What the hell, indeed? I resisted the urge to skim my fingers across the buttery-soft leather and cup a handful of ass, and instead gestured for her to sit.

“I wish you’d let me pick you up next time,” I said, sitting back down across from her.

“After the close calls we’ve had with Cullen lately?” she said with a snort. “Our luck, he’d be pulling in for a surprise visit right as we walked out. Uber is fine. If you want to take me home tonight, though . . .”

She trailed off, her eyes blazing, and my pulse raced to warp speed.

“Ma’am, may I off-air you a beverahge?” the waiter who had magically appeared asked in the thickest, most put-on French accent I’d ever heard.

Evie blinked up at him, her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

He smiled, but there was an edge of annoyance as he replied. “I said, what may I get you to drink?” His accent was no less obnoxious, but this time, she understood him because he added a pantomime of a person drinking from a glass, his pinkie extended.

“Uh, sure. I’ll have . . .” She shot me a glance and I shrugged, motioning to my Scotch. I’d been spared this fake-accent routine because I’d ordered mine at the bar before sitting, so she was on her own. “A glass of chardonnay, please.”

He bent in half in a deep bow, nearly beaning his head on the corner of the table, and Evie winced.

“I weel return momentarily weez your libation,” he said before turning on his heel and sauntering away.

Evie stared after him and then turned to me. “Holy crap,” she murmured, and burst out laughing.

I’d always loved that laugh. It rocked her whole body and rang through the room. Apparently, though, not everyone was as impressed. A pair of diners a few seats away sent disapproving glances our way. I kept the grin on my face and raised my glass to them before taking a deep swallow.

Fuck them. If Evie’s contagious laugh didn’t charm the pants off them, they were clearly raised by wolves.

When she finally stopped giggling, Evie held a hand to her heaving chest and shook her head. “I’ve been to some nice places in my life, but this one takes the cake. There are five forks, Smith. Five. Even I don’t know what to do with that many,” she whispered, jabbing a finger toward the gleaming utensils. “I’m feeling a little out of my element.”

I was about to argue with her, to tell her she would fit in no matter where she went. But the truth was, when I’d planned the date, I just wanted to impress her. This place was a Michelin three-star restaurant and made all the magazines. After our first date at my apartment where we’d eaten a humble roasted chicken, I’d wanted to knock her socks off.

But that wasn’t Evie, was it?

This was a generic fancy date for a generic woman. Evie was right. The only reason she was out of her element was because this place wasn’t good enough for her.

I dug into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and dropped a fifty on the table. Then I stood and held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

She let out a puzzled laugh and eyed me suspiciously. “And go where?”

“You’ll see,” I replied, a plan already unfolding in my mind.

Tonight would be a night Evie would never forget, and it wouldn’t be because of any stars or fancy food. It would be because the date was for us and only us.

• • •

“I thought this place closed down last year,” she said, shooting me a shocked look as we pulled up to Rap Scallion’s Bar and Grill less than an hour later.

“Nope. Granted, nobody we know comes here anymore because it’s still a college bar, but they’re open and it’s Friday Five-Cent Wing night, and they have a trivia contest going on.”

When her eyes went suspiciously glassy, I knew I’d done good. This was the same bar we’d gone to on her twenty-first birthday. Up until the point that she’d lost her cookies, she’d had a great night. We all did. Sometimes I wondered if I’d known then that things had changed between us and had refused to admit it to myself.

“Thank you for bringing me here. Lots of great memories,” she said, reaching out a hand and laying it gently on my chest. She shifted on the seat of my car and then gasped. “Oh my God, but look at what I’m wearing. I think I’m just a little overdressed, no?”

“Except that one time you were naked in my hotel-room bed, you always seem overdressed to me, so I’m not the guy to ask,” I said with a wink. “But I can help if you’re worried about it.” I shrugged off my suit jacket and tossed my tie aside before facing her again. “Let’s get this hair down first.”

I reached for the twist like I’d been dying to do since she first walked into the restaurant, and with a few gentle tugs, sent the whole mass tumbling down in a cascade of honey waves. I ran my fingers through it until it looked sexy and mussed, like she’d just left my bed.

“Perfect,” I murmured, my voice gritty.

Her throat worked as she swallowed and nodded. “Good start. What else?”

I trailed my hands down her neck to the buttons of her blouse, flipping open one and then another until a sexy hint of cleavage showed. It took a Herculean effort not to bury my face between her breasts and stay there until morning. I worked up one more surge of self-discipline and untucked the hem of her blouse, unfastening two buttons at the bottom as well and knotting it at her waist. It was only then that, in the moonlight, I realized I’d uncovered a swath of fabric.