Chapter 14
“I can’t believe I just told you that.”
“I’m glad you did.”
He’s so damn easy to talk to. Something about his manly fascination is crazily alluring.
He’s smart and perceptive and so tuned in , he feels like a long lost friend.
A very masculine, hot best friend who also happens to be a good listener who’s on exactly the same wavelength as me, like we’re tuned into the same celestial frequency.
He’s so handsome it almost hurts to look at him directly. It’s like staring into the sun.
It’s a heady cocktail.
Not only that, but he’s holding my hand.
Like, really holding it. Weaving his fingers through mine. Playing with it lightly. Touching me with a kind of awe.
His hands are so big. So warm. Strong. Barely rough.
“My aspirations are very 50’s housewife,” I joke, feeling self-conscious that I’ve admitted to the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen that the thought of being barefoot and pregnant sounds downright dreamy to me.
I mean, not now, obviously. But I don’t want to wait forever, either.
My mother had me when she was twenty-three.
Because of that, the thought of starting young always appealed to me.
I’ve never even unveiled this little morsel of truth to Grace. And now this stranger knows more about me than my best friend.
In my defense, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever clicked with someone so instantly before.
He asked the question into a perfect donut hole of inhibitions loosened by champagne and a spark-heavy atmosphere that, with him in it, inexplicably feels like one where dreams actually could come true. Noah Steel makes unicorns seem possible. I can’t explain it, but there it is.
“I don’t think you’re the only one,” he says.
“Maybe it’s the start of a cultural shift.
An instinctual backlash to the way society has at least doubled the workload of women in the past few decades.
I read somewhere that women who work full-time still do ninety-percent of the household chores and eighty-seven percent of the child-rearing.
And they’re working hours that are at least equal to men’s and sometimes more. That sounds exhausting.”
“Yeah. It does.” I’m a little surprised by his comments.
He’s more evolved than the men I’m used to.
All the nerd dinosaurs at my father’s company hate that I’m a woman and their CEO.
I choose to ignore their outdated point of view, but I can read the vibes in the boardroom.
They’re still visualizing that glass ceiling, wishing like hell I hadn’t put so many cracks in it.
“Plus,” he continues, “women are still paid less than men, on average. Do you find that in your workplace?”
Damn, his eyes are blue. “No.” I’m the CEO. I make sure I’m getting the same salary my father got. Unfortunately, it’s still not enough to keep my boat from taking on some serious water.
When I don’t elaborate, he says, “Tell me about your job.”
I watch as his thumb glides along my palm, scratching lightly like a cat’s tongue. This small roughness feeds little tendrils of warmth to that fluttery sensation inside me. Yikes. “I’m not talking about work with you, Mr. Steel.”
His slow smile has a dark, playful edge. “All right. That would be giving me too much information and I haven’t earned your trust yet. I get it. You’ll be happy to know I have every intention of rising to your challenge.”
“Is that right?” God, my panties really are … wet .
“Yes, it is, Ms. Irish. And since you did already tell me you’re hoping to get knocked up at some point in the near future, I think my powers are working. My brothers always tell me I’ve got a knack for getting them to admit things that no one else can. We’re off to a good start.”
Heat rises to my face. And in the low pit of my belly, where warmth continues to pool. “I did not say I want to get ‘knocked up’.”
“Semantics, Irish.”
“Now I’m regretting telling you.”
“No, you’re not,” comes the smug drawl. “So, do you have a timeframe in mind? For the insemination?”
This makes me laugh. “Oh my god. I did not say it like that. I meant in the future— distant future, obviously.”
“It’s better not to wait too long if you want lots of them.”
“Sage advice from Mr. Steel.”
Noah blinks at me. There’s empathy swirled through his teasing, and the combination, along with dark eyelashes that are far too long for a man’s, makes me hate him a little.
Because I already know he’s going to be impossible to resist. “What does the whole scenario look like in your mind? Describe it to me.”
And here he goes again with the gently coaxing questions that are asked with such interest and such care, you can’t help but answer them.
“I don’t know. In my mind, it all just happens in a fairy tale of perfect timing, and then I’m surrounded by all these magical little beings who I get to take care of.
And this time I get the whole happily ever after and not just the first part, which is all my mother ever got. ”
Again, I’m amazed at what I’m admitting to Noah. With him, it just feels easy to let it out. Behind his over-the-top masculinity, he has this aura of kindness that makes my heart hurt.
Turns out kindness and hotness are one hell of a combination.
“Is there going to be a man involved in all of this baby-making?” Gently, but there’s a cockiness to it too, which I have no idea what to do with.
I don’t mention my earlier thoughts about the sperm bank or a spur-of-the-moment trip to Ireland. “Maybe.” Am I teasing him? “I mean, yes, of course, but I only need him for one tiny thing. There are options available these days.”
“Okay.” His low chuckle might almost offend me if it wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
What the hell are you even telling him all this for? You’re losing your mind! Or at least your inhibitions. No more champagne for you, girlfriend.
I’m almost grateful for the interruption when the waiter arrives to tell us about the specials. Noah orders a steak and I order mushroom pasta. He orders another bottle of champagne, which is brought to us almost immediately.
I keep waiting for the red flags. My instincts are usually pretty good. But with Noah Steel, so far it’s a sea of green. Which is borderline unnerving. Especially when he’s this freaking gorgeous.
What’s he hiding? What secrets will emerge to bite me in the ass? There has to be a catch. No one’s this perfect.
“If I’m not allowed to ask you about work,” he says, “tell me something else about yourself. Where do you live? Generally speaking, I mean. I’m not asking for an exact address.”
I guess that’s safe enough. “I’ve lived in the same apartment since I was four. I love it. It’s my haven.” I don’t tell him the second part of the story. Oh, and I’m about to lose it. Which feels like the absolute worst thing that could happen to me in the entire world.
Noah tilts his head, reading something in my tone. “What’s the problem? You have a high-powered finance job and live in an apartment you love. But there’s trouble in paradise.”
I take a drink from my water glass. I need to pace myself.
“No trouble.” Admitting all that would be way too much for a blind first date with a guy whose last name I don’t even know.
“Tell me about you.” What to ask? I remember Grace’s scolding.
Talk about your favorite book, your favorite movie, your favorite artist. Just let the conversation flow naturally.
“Seen any good movies lately? Who’s your favorite artist? ”
Noah laughs. “All right, Irish. We’ll keep the conversation neutral.
For now.” He considers my questions for a second.
“Let’s see, I haven’t seen a movie in several years.
I’ve been too busy with work. Favorite artist: that’s hard, but Picasso is definitely up there.
The genius is just so obvious. I guess I’m partial to the Impressionists.
I’ve always liked the drama of a good Delacroix and the unashamed romance of a Renoir.
How about you?” Like he’s playing a game.
“Matisse. And Hockney.”
He nods. “On our next date we can hit the Met. It’s not far from my apartment.”
“Careful,” I warn him. “That’s getting a little too close to an actual address.”
“Oops,” he grins. Wow, he’s sexy.
I watch as his fingers weave through mine. He’s holding my hand like people do in Central Park when they’re relaxed on a sunny day and happily in love. This man is downright dangerous . “You know, you’re not what I was expecting,” I tell him.
“No?” Light mischief plays in his eyes. “What were you expecting?”
Oh Jesus. His blue eyes are actually twinkling.
This is not good.
Either that, or it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Stop thinking what you’re thinking, L. Emerson, some logical inner voice scolds me sternly. Stop telling yourself you might not need that spur-of-the-moment trip to Ireland after all.
“I don’t know, but not…” I wave my hand across the whole… look of him. “… this .”
More twinkling. “Are you disappointed?”
“Of course I’m not. It’s just that now Grace is going to be unbearably smug.”
“So’s my brother. Because of…” he waves his hand over me, copying my gesture. “… this .”
I take another sip of water and, as I do, Noah’s phone buzzes on the table with an incoming text.
Cleo.
He clicks the lock button so the screen goes black. “Sorry about that.” But then it lights up again with another text.
Sloane.
He clicks the lock button again.
“You’re a popular guy, Mr. Steel,” I joke, trying to laugh it off.
“It’s just work. They’re checking up on me.”
I shrug a little. It’s none of my business who texts Noah Steel.
Yet another text pops up.
Amanda.
Noah takes his phone and shoves it into his pocket.
“I’m going to start this blind date or whatever we’re calling it by promising you that I’ll always be honest with you.
That last text wasn’t from work. It was from a girl who wants to go out on a date with me.
But I don’t want to go on a date with her. ”
“Why not?”
“She’s not what I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for?”
The question hits something in him and his gaze is almost too much. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Good answer,” I have to admit. “Better to let a random dating app select for you instead of taking your chances on a real live human.”
“I had to accept a date with Lucky Irish , now, didn’t I? My brother told me the algorithms troll through all your internet usage. All of it. From day one. And then it makes the matches based on everything it learns.”
“That almost sounds creepy.”
Noah gently tucks a stray curl behind my ear.
With his movement, his thigh is now flush against mine, ludicrously warm and hard.
My heart beats in my chest with a strange kind of longing.
I can’t be jealous of Cleo or Sloane or Amanda .
I hardly know him. But for some reason maybe I am. Because he’s so freaking beautiful.
No wonder he’s popular. It doesn’t make sense for him to be here at all.
His eyes meet mine with a hint of something that’s more than playful. Something deeper. “ You , Lucky Irish, have my undivided attention. Okay?” Like he’s trying to reassure me.
Which I don’t need, of course. “If you say so, Noah Steel.”
The air between us feels electric. A light throb plays between my legs. He smells like leather and uncut…comfort.
Help. I’m drowning in the cloud of alpha male pheromones Noah Steel is emitting.
The waiter arrives with our food. Setting our plates in front of us, he remains professional, making a point of not staring at how close we’re sitting to each other, or how Noah’s hand is still holding mine. “I hope you’re enjoying your evening so far, Mr. Steel. Ms. Irish.”
“We are,” Noah confirms. “When I googled your establishment before our dinner tonight, your website mentioned a penthouse suite. Is it available tonight? In fact, is it available for the entire weekend?”
What?
“Yes, Mr. Steel, it is available. Would you like me to reserve it for you?”
“Yes.” Noah hands the waiter a black credit card. “Make sure everything goes on this. We’d like to have dessert on the rooftop.”
“Of course, sir.”