It’s Hayden, right on time and looking absolutely mouthwatering in a tailored gray suit. He gives me a slow, burning glance from head to toe that tells me he likes what he sees. “On second thought, we don’t have to go out tonight. Want to just stay home?”

“You mean stay in bed,” I retort, matching his crooked grin.

“What? I didn’t say that.” He puts on a faux innocent look, but he can’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching. “You have a dirty mind, Miss Winters.”

I swat his arm gently. “You forgetting something? I’ve passed the bar and been sworn in. Now I’m Miss Emery Winters, Esquire . And nothing can stop me from going out to celebrate.”

“All right, all right . . . your wish is my command. I’ll wait.” He leans in to kiss me on the neck, knowing to avoid my fresh makeup without being told. It’s barely a brush of lips, so soft, almost chaste, but it still gives me a little shiver. His husky murmur catches me off guard. “But I’ll be counting the seconds until I can peel you out of that dress.”

Patience suddenly doesn’t seem like much of a virtue. But I know from experience that anticipation makes things so much sweeter. “Don’t get too excited, horn-dog,” I say, trying to sound stern instead of turned on. “We wouldn’t want to get thrown out of the restaurant.”

“If I’m a dog, then isn’t it my master’s fault if I don’t behave?” Hayden offers his elbow before I can come up with a snappy retort. “Come on, let’s go. Our reservation is in forty-five minutes, and rush hour isn’t over yet.”

“Are you serious?” I glance at the clock. “It’s after eight.”

“It’s also Friday night in downtown LA.” He escorts me downstairs like I’m a princess and opens the door of his BMW for me.

We make good time and arrive ten minutes early. The restaurant is gorgeous with dark wood paneling, crystal chandeliers, white-draped tables with lilies almost as bright as the candles they’re arranged under. After the hostess seats us at a small table for two, I twist around to admire the view until I notice Hayden smiling at me.

“What?” I ask defensively. “It’s a nice place.”

I expect him to tease me—to say something like I thought your head was going to fall off or Were you looking for the tofu? But he simply replies, “You’re beautiful.”

My cheeks heat up with sudden shyness. Love shines from his eyes, so naked and tender that I swallow hard, fighting back happy tears. Before I can figure out how to reply, the waiter chooses that moment to deliver the menus. Hayden orders his customary Scotch, I order an appletini, and the waiter flits away to let us decide on our entrees.

“You know . . . I actually have something else to celebrate,” I say between sips. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you before.”

“More good news? Jeez, leave some for the rest of us.” His grin is bursting with pride. “So? What is it?”

“I’ve been promoted. Well, technically hired , but same diff. Walker, Price, and Pratt made me a junior associate yesterday.”

Hayden blinks at me. Then he stands up, pushes aside the table’s centerpiece, and leans over the table to press a fiery kiss to my mouth, lipstick be damned. My hands flutter at his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer, but too aware of how many people can see us. I finally muster the willpower to push him away when an old couple at a nearby table start clapping.

“Oh my God, sit down.” I bury my burning face in my hands. “They probably think you just proposed or something.”

“Screw them. Let them think whatever they want . . . this is great news, baby.” But he does sit back down when the waiter reappears.

After we’ve given our orders, Hayden picks up where he left off. “So now that you’re a card-carrying lawyer, is that asshole finally going to give you some respect?”

“You mean Mr. Pratt? I doubt it . . . creepers gonna creep,” I say with a shrug. “But I’ve got things under control. Whenever I need to cool his jets, I just casually mention my boyfriend. That works pretty well.”

“Ah, yes. Your overprotective boyfriend who might just punch him so hard, his bad hair plugs fall out.” Hayden rubs his chin. “I wonder if he lives in a building I own . . .”

I giggle despite myself. “Easy there, Rambo. I handled him just fine before we started dating. And if I perform well enough to get a good letter of recommendation, Trina might be able to hook me up at her new job next year. So I don’t need you stirring shit. Okay?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. Shit will be shaken, not stirred.”

“Ew, gross.” I make a face. “I’m trying to eat here.”

“No, you’re not. You’re drinking that . . . neon-green thing. Christ, just looking at it makes me feel like less of a man.”

Sticking my tongue out at him, I toe off one high heel under the table. He sucks in his breath when I slide my foot up his thigh. “Does this help? I think I feel your masculinity coming back . . .”

“Oh, you are going to get it later,” he growls with a wicked smirk.

Heat boils in my belly as I flash my own faux-sweet smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Our veal marsala and eggplant parmesan land in front of us, and we dig in eagerly. I don’t know about Hayden, but I’m starved. I worked through my usual dinner break so I could come home early and primp for our date. For a few minutes, we just enjoy the gourmet Italian cuisine in blissful silence.