It took Rylann a moment. “You’re taking me to Champaign?”

“Yep. I rented out the second floor of the Clybourne.” Kyle reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I promised you a date when I left your apartment that night, Rylann.” His eyes held hers meaningfully. “I might be almost a decade late in delivering on that, but here we are. Finally.”

Tiny sentimental tears sprung to Rylann’s eyes.

And here he’d been worried that she’d be disappointed.

She smiled softly, then leaned forward to brush her lips over his. “It’s perfect.”

A LITTLE OVER two and a half hours later, the limo pulled to a stop in the alley behind the Clybourne. Kyle took out his cell phone and dialed. “We’re here,” he said when the voice on the other end answered.

He hung up and saw Rylann watching him with amusement.

“More with the cloak-and-dagger routine?”

“You wanted to stay off the radar.” Kyle pointed to the bar. “So here’s how this will work. Dex used to be the manager here, and knows the guy who’s now in charge. That guy is going to take us up the back employee staircase, and then we’ll have the whole second floor to ourselves.”

“It’s the last week of school—the upstairs bar would normally be packed. Do I even want to know what you had to do to arrange this?” she asked.

“Let’s just say that the manager and I came to an understanding.” Actually, he’d told the manager that he’d give him half the bar’s expected food and beverage sales for the night plus 20 percent, plus an extra five thousand bucks for setting up the place per his exact instructions. But she didn’t need to know that.

He saw the back door to the bar open, and a guy in his early twenties waved at the limo. Kyle looked at Rylann. “Ready to go back in time?”

She laced her fingers through his. “In case I forget to tell you later, this was the best first date I ever had.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can be really sweet when you want to be?”

“I try not to let too many people know about that. It cuts against the bad-ass prosecutor reputation.”

He tugged her hand and pulled her closer. “I’ve already seen the Bozo the Clown hair, counselor. We have no more secrets.” With a quick kiss, he pushed open the door of the limo and stepped out. After checking to confirm that the alley was empty, he helped Rylann out and led her to the bar’s back door.

The manager grinned as he shuffled them through, then extended his hand to Kyle once they were inside. “Joe Kohler. I’ve been stoked about this all week. Frankly, I thought the whole Twitter thing was hysterical.” He shook Rylann’s hand next. “And the mystery lady.” He pointed to Kyle. “Whoever you are, you better treat this guy better than the last girl did.” He gestured toward the stairs behind them. “Follow me.”

Kyle shrugged when he saw Rylann’s bemused expression. “One of the high-fivers.” With his hand in hers, they followed Joe up the narrow staircase to the second floor.

“I brought in one of the waitresses to help me set up the place according to your instructions,” Joe told him. “Figured we could use a woman’s touch with this sort of thing.”

Rylann raised an eyebrow at Kyle as they got to the top of the stairs. “Instructions?”

Joe led them around a short corridor, into the main bar area. “Hope you like it.”

Kyle rounded the corner with Rylann, pleased when he saw they’d gotten it just right. White pillar candles—over a hundred of them—covered the tabletops and bar, casting the entire space in a warm, romantic glow. In the far back corner of the bar was a table covered with a white linen tablecloth, two crystal glasses, and an ice bucket that chilled a bottle of Perrier-Jouet Fleur de Champagne Rose—a recommendation from his sister, the wine expert.

With a stunned expression, Rylann took it all in. “This is…incredible.” She walked over to the table with the champagne, then looked over her shoulder at Kyle. “This is the table I was sitting at that night.”

Nodding, Kyle headed over. “I’d watched you for a while before making my move. There was a guy with red hair sitting across the table from you, and I was trying to decide if he was your boyfriend.”

Rylann smiled. “That was Shane. God, I haven’t spoken to him in years.” Her eyes swept over the place, the flickering candles having transformed the normally semi-seedy college bar into a romantic setting. She stepped closer and curled her fingers into his shirt. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Kyle brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Anytime, counselor.”

“I CHOSE POORLY,” Rylann said, eying Kyle’s plate from across the table. “I should’ve gone with the curly fries instead of the regular.”

“Yep, you should’ve.” Kyle picked up one curly fry and generously set it on her plate.

She looked offended. “One fry? That’s all I get?”

“You’ve got to live with the consequences of your decisions. How else are you going to learn?” He smiled and popped another curly fry into his mouth.

The Perrier-Jouet had begun to take effect, bringing a pretty flush to Rylann’s cheeks. While normally not a huge champagne drinker, even Kyle had to admit this one wasn’t half-bad. True, one probably didn’t often pair a three-hundred-dollar bottle of bubbly with cheeseburgers and French fries, but that was about as fine as the dining got at the Clybourne.