She needed to snap out of it. A week ago, she didn’t even know this man, and now she felt inexorably drawn to him all the time. She kept seeking him out, wanting information and advice and—worst of all—reassurance, as though she couldn’t make decisions for herself. She needed to put some space between them. Since they’d met, she hadn’t gone a day without seeing him.

His knee touched hers beneath the table, and she felt the brief contact in every cell of her body. Still, she didn’t look at him. She focused on the band and their instruments and the captivating movements of their hands as the music surrounded her.

Leigh closed her eyes. She liked being here. She liked this moment. She liked the air and the lighting and the total absence of words. So much of her life was about arguing and strategizing and persuasion. It was a relief to turn her mind off and simply absorb.

Brandon murmured something, his breath warm against her temple.

“What?” she asked.

“Another round?”

She glanced back to see the server there again, her teeth a white flash in the dim blue light.

Leigh turned to Brandon. His dark eyes held hers, and it was a loaded look. No way would she drive home after three vodkas. And he wouldn’t let her try. But his place was only a few blocks away.

Nerves danced in her stomach as she gazed into those simmering brown eyes.

The server leaned in, breaking the spell. “Y’all want another drink?”

“No,” Leigh said. “Thank you.” She looked at Brandon.

He turned to the server and asked for the check.

The set seemed to be wrapping up as they got the bill. Leigh took out her wallet, but Brandon insisted on paying.

They relinquished their corner table, and Brandon reached back for her hand as they squeezed through the horde of people. This time they went through the front door, stepping from the warm blue haze into the brisk air. A light rain pitter-pattered on the sidewalk, and the line of people now huddled against the building, sheltering under the eaves. Brandon dropped her hand as they moved toward the lights and traffic of South Congress.

Cold, damp air filled her lungs. Back to reality.

And to logic, which told her it was time to go home. Time to get back to her case files and her fuzzy bathrobe and the solitary plans she’d had for tonight before she’d turned up at Brandon’s apartment like a stalker.