Ask Me Why(36)

Without looking away from his taillights, I wipe the sweat from my hands. We’re traveling far below the speed limit. I’m not sure if Brance is always a terribly cautious driver or if this is for my benefit. Either way, I appreciate the snail pace. My days of joyriding are long gone.

A whoosh of toxic air blasts from my lungs when we pull into a mostly empty lot. Arriving at our destination is a soothing balm over my blistering skin. The trip was under ten minutes, effectively slamming a lid on further threat. That suits me just fine.

I park in front of the understated building and glance around. I figured Brance was more of the swanky restaurant type. This place looks like an industrial factory. But there’s a lake out back. Must be one of the perks. Finding beauty in concrete blocks is more challenging.

This will be fun.

After turning off the ignition, I leave the comfort of my air conditioning and wait for Brance to approach me. The temperature is balmy, even as the sun slips further down on the horizon. I shake out my hands, chasing off the last fringes of fear. It’s a small miracle I didn’t have a full-blown episode.

“Did you handle the journey all right?” There’s a hint of a grin lifting Brance’s lips.

I dust myself off. “Still in one piece. Thanks for your concern.”

“As your interim attorney, I take a sliver of responsibility. Wouldn’t want any guilt on my conscience.”

“Heaven forbid,” I mutter.

Brance dips his chin. “That’s the idea.”

I make the mistake of looking at him and get a bit tongue-tied. The spotlights give him a celestial glow. He ditched the suit jacket and tie. The collar of his shirt is unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. My focus drifts to his exposed forearms. Tan and dusted with dark hair, they’re sculpted with lean muscle to fend off opponents. Even with nightfall fast approaching, I notice two prominent veins snaking down his left one. My fingers twitch to trace those viral lines. Gah, he’s too sexy.

The sound of a throat clearing yanks me from my erotic reflection.

“Still in a state of shock?”

I snap my gaze away from his arm-porn. “Uh, no. I’m good. Yeah, really great.”

Brance chuckles, and the sound makes my belly do a stupid flippy-dip. “Seems that way. Shall we go in or continue loitering?”

I gesture to the entrance. “Lead the way.”

“Ladies first.”

His palm settles on the small of my back. The simple touch settles me more than I appreciate. After one small taste, my body is turning against me. Freaking harlot.

When we step inside, I do a double-take. The interior is stunning and unexpected to the extreme. Warm shades of red and orange blend seamlessly with light wood accents. Cozy booths frame the perimeter. The center consists of tables with comfy chairs. There’s an oval shaped bar along the far wall. I let my mouth hang open while taking it all in.

“Pretty sneaky, huh? Keeps the riff-raff off their case. Only those willing to take a chance get to appreciate this hidden gem.” Brance’s voice is missing the harsh edge, exposing a smooth timbre. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was teasing with me.

I peer up at him. “And how’d you find this treasure chest?”

“A client recommended it for a meeting.”

“Thanks for paying it forward.”

He scratches the fresh stubble on his jaw. “I like to be decent every now and then. Makes me more mysterious.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “I’ll get back to you on that one.”

A hostess shows us to a booth in a shadowed corner. If Brance wasn’t the man beside me, I’d assume we had an intimate evening ahead. In our case, there’s nothing other than bumps and bruises waiting.

He motions for me to choose a side, then sits down on the other. A server drops off glasses of water, and I eagerly take one. The cool liquid eases my throat. I shift along the leather seat and grab the drink menu. I’m going to need wine. A single glass will do. Any more than that, and I’ll have to stick around until the alcohol wears off. That would defeat the purpose.

I’m busy looking at everything that isn’t Brance. His foot taps mine, drawing my purposely wandering attention.

“Nervous?”

I tuck some hair behind my ear. “No. Should I be?”

“That depends.” His blue eyes twinkle under the pendant lamp.

“Do I dare ask on what?”

Brance rests his folded hands on the table. “How much you’re willing to share with me.”

My stomach seizes at the impact of his words. I shove past the knot, inhaling the longest breath possible. “Can we order first?”

“I recommend anything on tap. They brew their own.”

I shake my head. “I prefer grapes, especially of the white variety.”

“Whatever gets you talking faster,” he mutters.

When the server returns, I throw caution to the wind and get a stout.

“Nice choice.”

The pause that follows is nine months pregnant. I drum my nails on the glossy wood edging. Brance watches my fingers with rapt focus. When our drinks arrive, we share a sigh that borders on comical.

I take a very unladylike gulp of my beer. The dark color is appealing, but the taste is better. “This is delicious. It’s so rich and thick.”