“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here,” he says. “I mean—what’s your deal? You email me about paperwork. That I can understand. But then you ask me to go out to dinner. I agree, and you show up almost an hour late. Without even bothering to let me know.”

“I don’t have your phone number.”

“The restaurant has a phone.”

“And I told you I had an unexpected visitor. I was all ready to go. I would’ve been here on time if he hadn’t dropped by. He didn’t want to leave. It took some serious negotiating on my part to get him to go.”

“Are you trying to be cute?”

“No, not particularly. Why? Is the idea of me having an uninvited male guest over cute to you?”

For a second, I think that I’ve pushed it too far. That he’s going to get up and walk out of the place and never look back. Inwardly, I reprimand myself. I’m going to have to take it down a notch. I’m going to have to tread a little more carefully here. His expression is certainly hard to read, but it’s easy to tell that he’s annoyed right now, and me talking about my uninvited male visitor is not making things any better.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “We’ve kind of gotten off to a rough start. That wasn’t my intention. I really do want to have a nice dinner. I swear I didn’t mean to be late. Thank you for waiting. I appreciate it, really, I do.”

Aidan holds my gaze for another few seconds, but then something close to a smile starts to form on his lips.

“You are something else,” he says. I can’t tell if he means that as a compliment or an accusation. Eventually, our waitress comes to take our order. He gets swordfish. I get veal medallions, even though I’ve never actually had veal before. When the waitress leaves, we both sit there in silence. I’m not sure what I want to say. He’s taking a sip of his drink and not looking at me, but as I watch his face, I realize he’s feeling uncomfortable. Ha! Well, isn’t that a turn up for the books. The great Aidan Callahan’s not quite as perfect or confident as Chicago’s elite has made him out to be.

When he glances up at me over the rim of his glass, I feel like my throat is swelling shut, though. It feels like a punch straight to the gut. There’s pain in his eyes. Just the faintest shadow of it. Most people would likely miss it, but not me. I recognize it, because I see the same shadow lurking in my own eyes every morning when I look at myself in the mirror.

Aidan clears his throat, then puts down his glass. “You know veal’s baby cow, right?” he asks.

“What?”

“Veal is made from baby cows. I know plenty of women who’ll eat a steak but most of them seem to have a problem eating a five month old doe-eyed creature that lived in a barn and never saw the light of day.”

I puff out my cheeks, slowly letting the air out. “No, I didn’t know that. And now I feel like an asshole. Maybe you could have told me when the waiter was taking our order.”

“Maybe you could have turned up to our date on time.”

I give him half a smile, staring him down. He’s ballsy, but he waited for me. He’s not afraid to give me shit, but he’s patient enough to have stuck around when I told him I had a guy in my apartment less than twenty minutes ago. “I think I need wine,” I tell him.

“Absolutely. Order whatever you like.”

I flag the waitress down, already knowing I’m not ordering wine. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed supermodel that comes over to the table fumbles her pen when she sees who I’m sitting with.

“Oh…Mr. Callahan. I didn’t know you were dining with us this evening. I’m sorry,” she stammers, stooping to collect her pen at his feet. I’m sure Aidan gets an awesome view of her considerable cleavage. I get a rather less exciting view of her back, even though I was the one who called her over. “Is there anything I can get for you?” the waitress asks Aidan.

“My friend would like to order a drink,” he says flatly, gesturing to me. The girl spins around, her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. Her lips are all pouty and bee stung. Ugh. “I’ll have a martini, please,” I inform her. “Just a dash of Vermouth.”

Aidan nods his head as though he approves. “You know what? Give me one, too, please. But make mine dirty.”

I arch an eyebrow at him, allowing my amusement to show on my face. “A dirty martini drinker, huh? Well, well.”

Aidan mirrors my entertained expression. God, he’s good looking. I hate that I notice. His dark hair is swept back out of his face, but it’s obvious he hasn’t used any product in it. It’s just naturally wild. His eyes are ice blue, startlingly vivid. “Ms. Floyd, you’ll find I generally like most things in life to be a little dirty.”

Beside us, the waitress wheezes; it sounds like she’s choking on her own tongue. Aidan looks up at her and smiles blandly. “I think that’s everything for now.”

The waitress gets the hint and leaves.

“That was cruel,” I tell him.

“What was?”

“Teasing her like that. You saw how stunned she was by you.”

“I wasn’t teasing her, Essie.” Aidan laughs, and the sound reverberates around the small alcove we’re sitting in, sinking into my bones. It’s a wonderful laugh. The kind actors probably work on for years.

Our martinis arrive moments later, thank god. While I wouldn’t go so far to say as the drink clears my head, it does help me remember what my purpose is here tonight, and that I need to focus. I need to focus on being charming. I need to focus on being sexy, and I need to focus on making sure Aidan is interested in me. We didn’t get off to the smoothest start. I’ve got to make sure I’m on my A-game for the rest of the night.

“Do you enjoy working at the law firm?” Aidan asks as I take a sip of my drink.

I shrug. “Sure, it’s all right.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Only all right? That’s not exactly high praise.”

I should keep my mouth shut but that’s never really been my strong suit. “Yeah, well. Mendel, Goldstein & Hofstadter are the best there are in this city. I like working for people who are excellent at their trade. Unfortunately, because they’re the best, that’s also made them the most expensive lawyers in the city, too. Only someone like you would be able to afford a decent attorney. The system panders to the wealthy. If you’re not wealthy, the deck is immediately stacked against you.”

“Interesting that you’re still working there, then. Don’t you want to be a lawyer?”

“No.” I take another sip of my drink, realizing that there’s nothing left in the bottom of the glass. So much for taking it slow. “I have no desire to go to law school, wrack up the debt that comes with it, and then feel that I have to turn around and charge my clients three hundred dollars an hour just so I can pay off that debt.”

“Why don’t you do something that you’re really interested in, then? Why spend all this time working somewhere that you resent?”

Good question. I can’t tell you that if I work somewhere else, I can’t spy on you, now, can I? “I don’t know; it’s a job. It pays the bills. It might be my own personal history that makes me a little more sensitive to the money issues—I’d have a hell of a hard time paying for a lawyer now if I needed one, but I’d be able to do it. Five, six years ago there’d be no way I’d be able to.”

From out of nowhere another martini appears, the empty glass vanished, and all evidence of my nervous drinking is gone. How did I not notice the waitress come over and put a fresh drink?

“We probably shouldn’t spend the whole night talking about work,” I say. “I mean, do you love what you do?”

He gives me a wry smile. “I certainly wouldn’t call it love. Running a global logistics company isn’t really something I think anyone could love.”

“I’m sure being a billionaire is.”

“It has certain benefits. But plenty of drawbacks, too.”

“How so? Never worrying about money again…doesn’t seem there could possibly be a downside.”