“Let’s get out of here,” he says, the sexy low timbre of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I say nothing. Instead, I give his hand a squeeze before I slip it from beneath his, reaching for my bag, which is sitting on the floor by my feet. He understands exactly what I’m doing and stands, waiting for me before we exit the restaurant together. The hostess calls out a cheerful goodbye, wishing us both a pleasant night, and I get the distinct feeling the night is going to be more than pleasant.

Dare I think it could be exciting? Explosive?

The moment we’re outside, the chilly night air washes over us, making my shoulders curl inward. The sweater I wore isn’t thick enough to ward off the cold temp and I’m eager to get to my car. Yet not eager whatsoever to leave Isaac.

He rests his hand low, at the base of my spine, and his touch warms me. “Want me to walk you to your car?”

I nod, turning toward him. “Where are you parked?”

“Just over there.” He inclines his head across the street.

“Maybe…” My voice drifts and I sink my teeth into my lower lip, cautious. No, I shouldn’t suggest that. What would he think? What if he says no?

“Maybe what?” He touches my cheek, his roughened fingertips gliding across my skin. He has a man’s hands. Tough and hardworking. Not afraid to do anything. I like that about him. How strong he is. Solid. I don’t know him that well, but I’d go so far as to call him dependable.

Who knew dependable could be so sexy?

“Maybe you could—come over? To my apartment?” I’m squeaking like a little girl and I clear my throat, annoyed with myself.

“You really want that?” His blue eyes are positively glowing right now, and he’s still touching me, his fingers in my hair now, stroking through the strands right behind my right ear. It feels so good, I’m leaning into him like a cat.

I nod, my voice leaving me, my gaze never straying from his.

“I can follow you,” he suggests, and I nod again, reaching out to rest my hand against the solid wall of his chest.

“I’d like that,” I whisper.

He removes his fingers from my hair and takes my hand. Without a word he leads me across the street to his truck and opens the passenger-side door for me like a gentleman. I climb inside, watching as he eagerly runs around the front of the truck and hops into the driver’s seat, his expression serious as he starts the engine. “I’ll drive you to your car. Tell me where you’re parked.”

I give him instructions, and within a minute, we’re at my car, parked not too far from the jewelry store. The Christmas tree gleams in the front window, the lights shut off since it’s a real tree and we don’t need to spark a fire, but Mother set a spotlight on it to shine all night long. It’s beautiful.