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shutting it.
    “I’m not stalking you,” he said, peering through the gap.
    I pulled the door open a fraction. “I know.”
    “But I’m not leaving.” There was a stubborn set to his jaw and fire in his eyes.
    “You’re not?” I glanced down at his foot, halfway over the threshold.
    “No, not until you agree to go out on a date, damn it. Not sex, not marriage, just one lousy date. Come on, Dana, just say yes already.” His voice dropped, low and persuasive, and his gaze locked on mine. “You know you want to.”
    I stared at him, he stared back. For a few moments we were like two combatants preparing for battle.
    “Why is it so important?” I asked eventually.
    “I dunno, I just…” He shrugged, smiled and produced those damn cute dimples. “I guess I just want to get to know what makes ‘Dana Wilcox, event organizer’ tick. And I know you gotta eat sometime, even if you are tiny.”
    It was the dimples that did it, that and the testosterone, neat, pouring into my house through the crack in the doorway. “Okay,” I said, unable to hold back a frown. “I can do tomorrow night, but no funny business. Dinner and then home, my home, me, alone.”
    A tidal wave of satisfaction washed over his face. “You got it, wild thing,” he said with a wink. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
    * * * * *
     
    Cutting it fine as always, I was ready at one minute to eight, just as my doorbell chimed. Brushing an invisible crumb from my black pants, I slipped into silver heels and reached for my purse, a sequined creation that matched the metallic silver vest top I was wearing.
    “Hi, wild thing,” Rick said with a grin when I opened the door.
    “Don’t call me that.”
    He made a contrite face though there was no remorse in his eyes. “Okay.”
    I locked up and stepped down from the porch, slotting my keys into my purse. He pressed his large hand into the small of my back and we walked swiftly to a huge white Lexus with blacked-out rear windows.
    “You hungry?” he asked.
    “Yes, I skipped lunch.”
    “That’s not healthy.” He pulled keys from his jeans pocket.
    I shrugged. “I was busy.”
    “You should still take care of yourself.” He opened the car door and I climbed in.
    “Where are we going?” I asked as he settled his bulk behind the steering wheel and moved into the traffic. The scent of his aftershave filled my lungs. It was divine, addictive, like a drug I was craving after just one hit.
    “My place.”
    “You own a restaurant?”
    He laughed, a deep rumble of a sound. “No, to my house. I’m going to cook for you.”
    “But I said dinner and then home, remember? That was the deal.”
    “Yeah, I remember how I had to twist your arm to get one measly date and that’s what you’ll get, dinner and home.”
    “I kind of meant out, like in a public place.”
    He glanced across at me, the tendons of his wide neck stretching at the neckline of his pale blue T-shirt. “I’m not having much luck on the, er…privacy front at the moment.”
    “You mean like photographers and that?”
    “Yeah, and that.” He turned back to the road. “It’s not a fun part of the job and I don’t want you to have to worry about it. I did promise not to sully your reputation.”
    I tensed my fingers around my purse. My reputation in my own mind had been sullied when I’d grabbed him and ordered him to kiss me. The second I’d wrapped my legs around his hips and told him to fuck me, it had been shot to hell.
    “You like sea bass?” he asked suddenly.
    “Yes, sure.”
    “Good, I’m using you as a guinea pig. I’ve got a new recipe to try out.”
     
    Rick’s house was even more lavish than Brick and Carly’s, the outside walls higher and the gates heavier and topped with spikes. He opened them with a remote control then paused and watched in the rearview mirror as they shut behind us.
    “You lived here long?” I asked as he started toward a stately house complete with pillars and giant bay