“Don’t tell me we finally found someone who is immune to your charm?” she says, laughing, and I have to smile.

“Let’s just say that I think if she could, she would have already hightailed it out of here.”

“I’ll keep her here.” She winks at me and then goes to open the door. “Even if I have to throw myself down in front of her.” She walks into the room.

Walking past the hostesses, who smile at me, I run back to my apartment. I rush past the security and take the elevator up to my condo, hurrying to my room and snatching the first sweater I see. I make it back to the restaurant in a matter of two minutes. The hostess smiles at me again, and I see that her shirt is down just a touch. I shake my head and jog back to the room, and when I walk in, I see Lara sitting at the table talking to Caroline.

“Hey,” I say, my chest heaving as I walk in, and Lara now gets up and smiles at them.

“Dylan,” Lara says, “would you like to come and help make your pizza?” He looks at Caroline, his eyes big.

“Mom,” he says, pleading, “can I?”

“Sure,” she says. He gets up, and they walk out of the room and close the door.

“Here,” I say, handing her the blue sweater I ripped off my shelf. My hand stays outstretched, and she just looks at it. “It’s just a sweater,” I say, and I’m about to just put it on her when she reaches out and takes it from me.

“Did you run home?’ she asks softly as she puts on the sweater, and it’s so big on her the shoulder lines are in the middle of her arm. I sit next to her and nod, grabbing a glass of water. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You were cold,” I say, and I put my arm on the back of her chair while I lean back. “So.”

“You just solve everything,” she says, and she looks down and then up again.

“If I can do it, I do it,” I say, looking at her, and fuck, do I ever want to kiss her. If her son wasn’t out there and she wasn’t scared and nervous of this thing happening, I would lean over and devour her. “Why are you nervous?” She looks down and then up again and leans forward to grab her wine glass and takes a sip. “Is that called liquid courage?”

“I’ve never drank wine before,” she says. “I like it.”

“Have you ever been drunk before?” I ask, and she shakes her head and takes another sip.

“I think that’s enough wine for now,” I say. “I have experience with it.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she mumbles under her breath, and I smirk.