“Hey.” He put some snap in his voice and watched her eyes go wide. “I’ll get that. Don’t you move, all right?”

Her hand slid away from the door to join the other in her lap. “All right.”

He stepped out of the car, taking his time rounding the hood. He’d debated whether to take the ’Vette or the truck tonight, and was glad he’d taken the sports car. The truck had its advantages—like having to help her up into the high seat—but the smaller interior of the Stingray translated to a physical intimacy that the truck couldn’t provide. They’d sat nearly shoulder to shoulder, and every time he’d shifted gears, his knuckles had grazed her bare leg. She’d broken out in goosebumps every time he’d made contact.

He leaned down to open her door, pleased to see that her earlier sleepiness had faded, and she watched him now with wide and careful eyes. He held out a hand, waiting patiently for her to take it. When she finally did, her fingers trembled against his palm.

He pulled her to her feet gently, resisting with ease the urge to yank her against him. There would be time for that, for the roughness and violence they both craved. But tonight, they’d do it a different way.

He closed the car door behind her and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, shortening his stride to match hers as she picked her way up the sidewalk in those needle-thin heels. He appreciated what they did for her legs, and that they brought her closer to his own five foot ten inches, but he got the impression she didn’t wear them often.

She stumbled a little, and he tightened his grip to steady her. “All right?”

“Fine,” she said, a little breathless, and looked up at him with sheepish eyes. “I don’t wear heels very much, but I wanted to look nice tonight.”

He didn’t know if that was the truth or her playing the part, but it was perfect. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” They stepped up onto the front porch, and she let go of his arm to dig in the little bag she’d brought. She fished out her key and fitted it into the lock, turning to smile at him. “Thank you for seeing me to my door.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and pasted on his most charming smile. “I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too.” She nudged the door open a crack. “I almost wish it didn’t have to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he said smoothly. “How about a night cap?”

“I don’t keep liquor in the house,” she said apologetically.

“I’ll settle for a cup of coffee,” he told her.

“I have to be up early for work,” she hedged, and a hint of wariness appeared in her eyes.