Deja’s entire body was warming again. Apparently, Alejandro just had that effect on her. “You look great too,” she whispered, too nervous to look him directly in the eyes.

He stepped forward, and his right hand settled on the small of her back. Deja sucked in a surprised breath. Alejandro leaned forward, and his mouth brushed her cheek and then moved to her ear. “Good. I dressed up for you.”

Deja didn’t know that a man telling her that could be erotic, but it absolutely was.

“Come on,” he said, his hand flexing at her back, the weight of it sure as he led her to his car.

The thing about being at a small university in a small Midwestern town like Centreville was that the closest good food, or museums or good stores, or bars or good music venues could be anywhere from thirty minutes to six hours’ drive away, and that was the case for Deja’s university.

In hindsight, she would have preferred a job in a slightly bigger city with more than cheap pizza joints within walking distance, but she’d only had one job offer, so she hadn’t even had the chance to be picky. But the fact that Centreville was so small and students were everywhere had only deepened her isolation, and even though she could drive to more interesting places, she almost never did; she always had too much work. Those were at least the excuses she used to keep herself from actually getting a life, so when Alejandro hopped on the freeway to head out of town, she grinned so hard, her cheeks hurt.

They didn’t talk much on the way to Port Wayne, the closest medium-sized city. Alejandro played some jazz, and Deja listened, sinking into the quiet and his soft leather seats. It should have been weird not to talk on a date, but she’d spent so much time not talking to Alejandro that it felt comfortable. The twenty-minute drive let her sink into the realization that she, Deja Evans, was on an actual date with Alejandro Mendoza.

By the time he pulled into a parking lot, just behind a stretch of bars and restaurants Deja always told herself she’d come to but didn’t, she was still nervous, but not so much that she was worried the butterflies in her stomach might riot if he touched her again. He walked around his car to open her door and offered his hand to her.

She bit her bottom lip as she took it. His palm was warm, and he helped her to stand with a comfortable strength. He closed the door with his free hand and then stood in front of her, so close she had to tip her head back to make eye contact.

“Do you think I need my coat?” she breathed.