healthy swallow of hers. “Gin, white cacao, and some other stuff. You’ve never had a Savannah?”
“I take it tonight is a little trip down memory lane?”
“Just reconnecting you with your roots. You seem to be lacking them.” She reached across the table and rested her hand on his, the touch burning him. “So, where do we go from here?”
Maybe it was the gin, or the kiss, or something else, but she had been throwing him off balance all night. He had started it with the kiss, assuming control, but she had quickly turned the tables and wrested the evening away from him. Instead of worrying about control, as he often did, he was enjoying himself.
“You have a lot of convincing to do at the stadium. Your coaching staff, scouting staff…” he began.
She finished her drink and eyed him over the rim. “I don’t mean work. I mean, where do we go from here?”
Comprehension dawned. “The kiss? I won’t lie. There’s something between us, always has been. We’re both adults. No reason why we can’t explore it.”
“Really?” She looked doubtful, eyebrows furrowing, but there was a glint something else in her eyes, a hint of desire.
Annabelle and a couple of waiters served family-style plates heaped with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens, and coleslaw.
“Let’s eat while it’s hot.”
Lucas watched as Miranda served herself and ate without any apologies for diet or delicate feminine sensibilities like so many other women he’d dated in the past. Remembering her schedule, she probably hadn’t taken a break all day to eat. A rumble from his own stomach reminded him he’d only had a bagel for breakfast, over ten hours ago, so he dug in. The flavors exploded on his tongue, reminding him of summers at the beach, family dinners, and home. Miranda was right. It had been a long time and he had pushed the past out of his mind, choosing instead to bury it with his father and pretend it never happened.
But food and Miranda had forced it all to the surface, making him unsteady and off his game. Candlelight flickered across Miranda’s face. The alcove, quiet and secluded even from the crowded restaurant, made him feel as if they were the only two people in the world. All of the external world, the Knights, the people, faded away, leaving them with this one night. Business had no place here. The only question was, what did he want?
*
After dinner, Miranda left the restaurant and walked in the opposite direction of the car. After a long look down the street, he followed, catching up with a few long strides. As soon as he drew abreast of her, she slipped her hand into his and held it firmly, as if making sure he wasn’t going to escape.
“So the evening isn’t over yet?” he asked.
She cast a sideways glance at him, with mischief in her eyes. “Eager to be rid of me? It’s a beautiful night. I thought we could enjoy a nice walk.”
“Why, Ms. Callahan, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe. Just so you know I don’t put out just for a dinner.”
“And a few drinks.” She reminded him with a laugh.
“God, we can’t forget those.” He looked around, seeing several couples following their lead, walking hand in hand down the road. “So, what’s the plan? Still connecting me to my roots?”
“I love walking in the historic district, especially at night. The houses are gorgeous and I imagine the lives of people in them, back when they were built. I imagine Sherman’s guns in the distance, the sounds of battle. What must they have been thinking?”
“I think they were scared shitless. I would be if an army was headed here, burning everything in its path. Although, Savannah wasn’t burned. It was too valuable of a sea port.”
She shoved him lightly. “Spoilsport. Now you’re a history expert. How does it compare to Chicago?”
They walked in silence for several moments, as he enjoyed the feel of her hand grasped securely in his own. They were like
“I take it tonight is a little trip down memory lane?”
“Just reconnecting you with your roots. You seem to be lacking them.” She reached across the table and rested her hand on his, the touch burning him. “So, where do we go from here?”
Maybe it was the gin, or the kiss, or something else, but she had been throwing him off balance all night. He had started it with the kiss, assuming control, but she had quickly turned the tables and wrested the evening away from him. Instead of worrying about control, as he often did, he was enjoying himself.
“You have a lot of convincing to do at the stadium. Your coaching staff, scouting staff…” he began.
She finished her drink and eyed him over the rim. “I don’t mean work. I mean, where do we go from here?”
Comprehension dawned. “The kiss? I won’t lie. There’s something between us, always has been. We’re both adults. No reason why we can’t explore it.”
“Really?” She looked doubtful, eyebrows furrowing, but there was a glint something else in her eyes, a hint of desire.
Annabelle and a couple of waiters served family-style plates heaped with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens, and coleslaw.
“Let’s eat while it’s hot.”
Lucas watched as Miranda served herself and ate without any apologies for diet or delicate feminine sensibilities like so many other women he’d dated in the past. Remembering her schedule, she probably hadn’t taken a break all day to eat. A rumble from his own stomach reminded him he’d only had a bagel for breakfast, over ten hours ago, so he dug in. The flavors exploded on his tongue, reminding him of summers at the beach, family dinners, and home. Miranda was right. It had been a long time and he had pushed the past out of his mind, choosing instead to bury it with his father and pretend it never happened.
But food and Miranda had forced it all to the surface, making him unsteady and off his game. Candlelight flickered across Miranda’s face. The alcove, quiet and secluded even from the crowded restaurant, made him feel as if they were the only two people in the world. All of the external world, the Knights, the people, faded away, leaving them with this one night. Business had no place here. The only question was, what did he want?
*
After dinner, Miranda left the restaurant and walked in the opposite direction of the car. After a long look down the street, he followed, catching up with a few long strides. As soon as he drew abreast of her, she slipped her hand into his and held it firmly, as if making sure he wasn’t going to escape.
“So the evening isn’t over yet?” he asked.
She cast a sideways glance at him, with mischief in her eyes. “Eager to be rid of me? It’s a beautiful night. I thought we could enjoy a nice walk.”
“Why, Ms. Callahan, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe. Just so you know I don’t put out just for a dinner.”
“And a few drinks.” She reminded him with a laugh.
“God, we can’t forget those.” He looked around, seeing several couples following their lead, walking hand in hand down the road. “So, what’s the plan? Still connecting me to my roots?”
“I love walking in the historic district, especially at night. The houses are gorgeous and I imagine the lives of people in them, back when they were built. I imagine Sherman’s guns in the distance, the sounds of battle. What must they have been thinking?”
“I think they were scared shitless. I would be if an army was headed here, burning everything in its path. Although, Savannah wasn’t burned. It was too valuable of a sea port.”
She shoved him lightly. “Spoilsport. Now you’re a history expert. How does it compare to Chicago?”
They walked in silence for several moments, as he enjoyed the feel of her hand grasped securely in his own. They were like
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