Landlord Wars(46)

I caught the sincere look on his face. “So this is a date?”

He pulled down plates from a cupboard next to the oven and looked over. “That’s typically what it means when a man asks a woman to dinner.”

I sat in one of the barstools he set a plate in front of. “True, but you and I haven’t always had the smoothest relationship. And you’re my landlord. Don’t you think it’s taboo to date a tenant?”

He reached for one of the two wineglasses on the island and paused, catching my eye. “Only if you feel pressured to be here. Did you come because you felt you must, or because you wanted to?”

“I’m here because I’m hungry.”

His lips twisted as though he were holding back a smile. “That’s fair. I’ve given you a hard time in the past.”

“And now?”

He slid the wineglass toward me and held up two bottles, one red and one white.

I pointed to the red.

“Now,” he continued, “things are different.”

They weren’t really. I was still living paycheck to paycheck and had some interesting family issues, while Max was still the wealthy son of a San Francisco first family. The only thing that had changed was one sizzling kiss. Other than that, we were totally different.

“Nothing about us has changed,” I said. “Not really. So why would you want to go out?” I hadn’t expected Max to seriously want to date. I figured it was an impulse or a convenient booty call, but not a real first step to dating. Men like him didn’t date women like me for the long haul.

“You have good taste in chocolate,” he said without missing a beat.

Okay, he was funny now that he wasn’t scowling. And kind of charming. But I was still on my guard. “This is true. But chocolate doesn’t a relationship make. And your mother hates me.”

He poured the red wine into my wineglass and then his own. “Chocolate is important. And regardless of how my mother may come across at times, I doubt very much that she hates you. She’s kinder than she appears.”

I tapped the side of my wineglass, studying him. “In that case, why should I date you?” A bank account didn’t impress me—good character did. Though it seemed he might have that too.

He took a sip of wine and patted his stomach. “My rock-hard abs?”

I laughed. Abs were something my female brain couldn’t ignore. “I do enjoy a nice landscape. What else?”

“I can promise mediocre meals from the comfort of my kitchen.”

“No fine restaurants?” I teased. I really didn’t care about expensive meals, but it was curious that he didn’t try to woo me with it.

“If you wish, though we might run into my mother and her friends.” His brow quirked. “I believe I ran into you at one of those before too.”

My jaw dropped. Nom Tea Parlor, the dim sum restaurant. “You knew that was me?”

“Of course I knew.” He swirled his wineglass and took a whiff of the vintage. His gaze flicked up to me. “Why do you think I gave up my reservation?”

My eyes widened, and he laughed at my expression. “But you didn’t like me back then.”

“Didn’t I?” He walked around the island to a drawer and pulled out cutlery, setting a fork and knife next to our plates. “I might not have admitted my attraction, but I’d noticed you.”

I shook my head. “Men are so weird. Why not just say you like me? Would have saved us a lot of back and forth.”

He smiled. “The back and forth is the fun part. But I admit, men aren’t the most direct where feelings are involved.”

I tapped my finger on the table. So he’d known it was me all along at the restaurant. Something to dissect later. “No fancy restaurants, then, or we’ll risk running into your mother and her friends. How about mediocre ones?”

“Always on the table.”

I ticked off my fingers. “We’ve got rock-hard abs and mediocre food. Have I missed any other perks to dating Max Burrows?”

He walked around the island and stood in front of me, looking down in a way that shot lightning bolts through my belly. “I like you, Sophia. Will you give us a chance to get to know each other better?” He leaned down and kissed me. Nothing fancy, just a lingering peck, and son of a bitch, it was just like last time. My body vibrated with the pleasure of that touch, and a light dose of pleasant man scent engulfed me.

What was it with his kisses?

He tilted my head, one hand on my waist, the other lightly touching my jaw. He leaned down and explored my mouth with another soft yet firm kiss, and a little tongue that had me leaning into him.

He eased back, his eyes still on my mouth. “Are we dating?”

“Kissing. Kissing is another one of your strong suits,” I said.

“I’m glad you think so, because I plan to kiss you a lot.”





Chapter Twenty-Two





Sophia





Max kissed me once more and said, “We should probably eat. Unless you’d rather do other things?” His tone was pure suggestion.

My stomach fluttered. I was more tempted than I cared to admit, now that I’d gotten used to the idea I was actually dating this man.

Holy crap, dating. I wasn’t just dating anyone, I was dating Max—the man I’d loathed for weeks.