“Night.”
I ended the call and dropped the phone next to me. A date. A date! One that I was actually excited about—when was the last time that had happened?
I frowned, thinking about the last few dates I’d been on. I hadn’t even shaved my legs for those, but for Levi…
Scooping up my phone again, I made a note to call the salon on Tuesday and schedule a bikini wax. A full Brazilian.
I didn’t do anything halfway.
Of course, I was fucking late. I’d been looking forward to seeing her all week long, we hardly had enough time to begin with, and I was fucking late.
But a client meeting had run long, which meant I was late getting to the bus stop to meet Scotty, which made him late for swim therapy and threw his whole sense of equilibrium off for the day, and even Sarah had a hard time getting him settled. He clung to my waist as I left, and I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for thinking, Let go, champ, Daddy wants to go get laid.
Not that I was positive I’d get laid. In fact, as I sped toward Low Bar, my dick perking up at the mere thought of getting inside her, I told myself to calm the fuck down. Maybe she wants to get to know each other a little better before getting naked, which is perfectly normal, and probably a good idea, so don’t go charging at her like a bull at a red cape. Be a goddamn gentleman. Can you do that?
I could do that. I could be a gentleman. A gentleman with a raging hard-on, but a gentleman.
I parked on a side street and grabbed my jacket from the passenger seat, adjusting myself in my jeans before shutting the door and locking the car. Shrugging into my jacket as I hurried down the block, I hoped she hadn’t been sitting there for too long, although she seemed like the kind of person who liked to be punctual.
In front of the door, I was tempted to stop, take a breath, run a hand through my hair, fix my cuffs, and stroll in all cool and casual, like a badass.
But that just wasn’t me.
I threw open the door and rushed down into the dark, intimate bar, stopping for just a moment to give my eyes time to adjust to the candlelight. As soon as I saw her, standing behind a stool at the bar, hanging a jacket over the back, I strode toward her.
“Jillian.”
She looked up and smiled. God, she was so fucking pretty. Was she really here waiting for me? “Hey you.”
“Hey. I’m so sorry I’m late. An afternoon meeting ran long, which threw off the entire rest of the day for Scotty, and…” I shook my head. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. You’re here. I just got here too.”
I slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her close, pressing my lips to her cheek. “I’m here. And you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She slid onto her chair, and I eyed her legs as she crossed them. She had on a tight gray dress with short sleeves and a knee-length hem, black heels, and pearls at her throat. Jillian’s curves were subtle, but the dress hugged every last one of them, and those legs were begging to be slung over my shoulders.
Easy there, caveman. Sit down. Order a drink. Say words. Make nice.
I took the seat next to her, and she slid the cocktail menu toward me. “I haven’t ordered yet, but I’ve looked at this already.”
“You’re much nicer than I am,” I said, dropping my keys and phone into my pocket. “I probably would’ve slammed two drinks by now and bitched to the bartender about how inconsiderate people can be.”
She laughed. “Really. No big deal.”
I called the bartender over and gestured for Jillian to go first.
“I’d like Blue Coat gin, please. Up with a twist, and I like it extra dry. In and out with the vermouth.”
I ordered a Sazerac and turned to face her. “I’ve never heard a woman so particular about her martini.”
She shrugged guilelessly. “I know what I want.”
“I like that about you. You’re discerning.”
“Some might even call it picky.”
I grinned. “Then I’ll take it as a compliment you’re even here. Tell me about your week.”
She sat up taller, clasping her hands around her knee. “It was good. I’d have liked to get a little more exercise, but it’s hard to make myself get up at five and go to the gym, and by the time I leave work around seven or eight, I’m usually too tired. And already craving a glass of wine.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not very disciplined.”
“You’re a doctor working long hours. I’d say that takes discipline.”
“Thanks. How was your week?”
“Pretty good. Busy. I’m working on a vacation house in Harbor Springs, so I had to make a trip up there and back in one day, which was a little hectic.”
“I love that area. We used to ski there all the time when I was younger.”
I nodded. “We did too. Every year I say I’m going to go again, and I never do.”
She put her hand on my arm. “I do the exact same.”
“Oh yeah? We should promise each other we’ll go together. And hold the other accountable.”
“Deal.” She held out her pinkie, and I stared at it. “Come on, give me your pinkie.”
Laughing, I hooked mine through hers. “What’s this, a pinkie swear?”
“Yes,” she said, her face grave. “It’s how the Nixon sisters seal deals, and we take it very, very seriously.”
“You have my word. We will go skiing.” I squeezed her tiny finger with mine—not too hard, since I probably could have snapped the delicate bones—and allowed myself the brief fantasy of making out with her in an outdoor hot tub while it snowed.