Before responding, a server delivered a basket of chips, two bowls of salsa along with two colorful icy drinks with slices of fresh fruit wedged onto the side of the goblets. His eyes never left mine and it was also apparent patience wasn’t his virtue.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re good,” Chad replied curtly.
Once the waiter left, he placed his forearms on the table and leaned in. “I wasn’t the one responding to your messages. That had to be my sister-in-law Brooke. She sits on the committee of the gala and handled the paperwork for Mitchell Oil. It appears I owe you an apology on her behalf. Had I known, I wouldn’t have forced the issue and I damn sure wouldn’t have withheld the funding.”
Trust wasn’t something that came naturally, but somehow, I knew he was telling the truth. Part of me wanted to end this fiasco, thank him, and simply call it a night. But a magnetic pull, that I didn’t understand, kept me glued to my seat.
“Can I take your order?” A cute waitress, I knew as Betty held a pencil to her paper pad.
Chad cut his eyes over to me, waiting for me to make the call on how the rest of the dinner would go.
I drew in my bottom lip between my teeth and my foot bobbed up and down underneath the table. Unable to take my eyes off him, I couldn’t think let alone think straight.
“Do you need a few more minutes?” The girl looked at both of us like she watched a tennis match.
He grinned, keeping his eyes trained on mine. “I’ll have what she orders.”
“Beef and chicken fajitas for two, bean soup instead of refried and an order of guacamole made fresh at the table.”
“The guacamole cart will be at your table in a moment, and your food shouldn’t take too long.” She gathered our menus and darted off in a rush.
Over the rim of the icy cocktail, he kept his eyes on me causing my breath to hitch. His gaze burned through and for the first time in what seemed like forever, a rush of desire in places that had been in hibernation woke up.
Chad Mitchell’s caramel colored eyes studied me intently and if I had thought he couldn’t get any more handsome—I was wrong. I wanted to avert my stare but couldn’t.
I needed the liquid courage from the top-shelf margarita. With a shaking hand, I brought the glass to my mouth and took in a few big gulps of the confidence boosting icy drink.
“How ‘bout we start over? I’m Chad Mitchell.” He extended his hand across the table with a glimmer of a grin on his face.
Get your shit together, Leah.
Barely able to contain my trembles, I slipped my small hand inside his large alluring hold. An electrical jolt passed through me, firing currents to every neuron in my body. Power and confidence radiated from the touch and I felt like I’d lost control, and nothing made sense. My body came alive like an out of control lioness that had no plan to be caged again.
“Leah Wright. Nice to meet you.” A smile teased my lips.
One of the servers rolled a cart full of avocados and a variety of fresh ingredients to our table. “What would you like in your guacamole?”
“Everything?” I asked.
“I want everything.” His eyes never left mine.
Oh. My. God.
I blinked hard and felt my face burn. I knew he meant the homemade dip, but the way he’d said he wanted everything made my heart pound. I took another sip of the refreshing drink to aid the sudden dryness in my parched throat, hoping like hell the alcohol would calm my nerves sooner rather than later.
Preston had fucked me up, and I was in uncharted waters because since that horrific night, I hadn’t wanted to be touched or to touch another man... until now.
I want everything.
My eyes trailed to his mouth. What would those lips feel like on mine?
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course. I apologize, I think I must have swallowed part of a jalapeno.” I brought the glass to my lips pretending to extinguish the flame—but who was I kidding? The Dallas Fire Department would have a hard time controlling the fire brewing inside me.
“I asked if you were single.” A hint of a smile curled his lips.
Shit! I hadn’t even heard him.
“Yes. Are… you?” I stammered because surely, he could hear the drum of my pulse.
“I don’t have time for relationships.”
“Neither do I.”
“Do you participate in the charity auction each year?”
“No. I was filling in for Carli, my best friend, who ended up with a broken arm. As it turns out, I’m glad I got to be a part of it, because in a few weeks I’ll be graduating from University with my teaching degree. Most likely some of the kids in my class will benefit from the proceeds.”
He nodded. “A teacher, huh? My sister-in-law, Avery is a teacher. What grade?”
“Kindergarten.”
“I can’t imagine a room filled with more than a dozen little kids. My niece Savannah can be a handful.” He paused before asking, “Is your friend doing better now?”
“She is, thank you. Do you... I mean the company, contribute to the yearly gala?”
“For the past eight years.”
“So, you’ve done this before... the auction and date thing?”
“No. We usually just cut a check for a donation. This… you and me… was all Brooke.”
I wanted to be perturbed with the woman he referred to as Brooke, but I wasn’t. Because of playing in dangerous territory, I needed to get my head on straight and my hormones in check. Soon we would be on our merry way and the hot guy who made my toes curl would be history.
But then his hand brushed mine as we reached for a chip at the same time and the warm sensation returned. Butterflies took flight in my stomach, fluttering around as if they danced in delight.
For the second time tonight, the thought of how my lips would feel with the brush of a kiss—his kiss.
Chapter 4
After we finished the delicious meal, he stretched back in the chair casually. “Earlier I apologized on behalf of my sister in law. I take it back. I’m glad you introduced me to the best Mexican food in the city… and the pleasure of meeting you.”
“Despite not wanting to come, I had a great time. I’m glad she duped us.”
“You must come here often. They all seem to know you.”
“Every Friday night.” My eyes still holding onto his.
“Most women would have chosen Carlisle and Vaughn’s.”
“What can I say? I prefer casual over fine dining... and I’m not most women.”
“I can see that.” He downed the last of his margarita. “Tell me more about yourself.”
“Not a lot to tell.”
“A beautiful woman like you has a lot to tell. You trying to keep it a mystery only makes me more determined to find out all that there is to know about you.”
Beautiful.
Preston had called me beautiful all the time. Even the night he’d damaged me. The spell or whatever had been between me and Chad had been broken. I’d treaded dangerous territory, and I knew to abort the situation and pretend the adrenaline coursing through my veins was nothing more than pent up anxiety.
“We should call it a night. Thanks for making such a generous donation. It will mean so much to so many children.” I reached for my purse sitting on the red cushion next to me, mental alarms ringing in my head.
A wide smile spread across his face as he leaned more toward me over the table. “Don’t leave.”
I shook my head, “It’s getting late and I have somewhere to be early in the morning.”
“I make you nervous.”
I blinked hard.
Who does he think he is, cocky bastard?
He made me more than nervous. He made me feel as though I were about to parachute out of a plane with no idea how to work the release. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t make my legs move.
“Why would you make
me nervous?”
“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me? The way your foot has been bouncing underneath the table? Or the several times your face is flushed, and you swallow hard.”
On their own accord, my eyes drifted to his incredible mouth and my heart raced. Cocky and arrogant. Fitting combination.
And I liked the strong presence he eluded. As much as I didn’t want to. I did.
Preston Morrison may have done the unthinkable by leaving his mark—a scar I’d carry as a reminder for life. But Chad Mitchell left me only wanting more of whatever this was going on between us.
Chad let out a low chuckle, barely audible over the crowded restaurant but enough to break the spell of my staring.
“You’re very arrogant, Mr. Mitchell.”
“And you’re very beautiful.” His low and husky voice sent another rippled rush down my spine.
The whiplash effect of the magnetic charge and pull between us was unlike anything I’d ever felt. No matter how hard I tried to push it away, I failed. There was hunger in his eyes as he watched me.
Did he want to kiss me?
Did he want... more?
An awkward silence stretched between us like a dense fog as I let out a frustrated sigh mixed with a groan.
Rosalinda approached the table with an oval plate covered in sopapillas and a serving basket filled with honey and powdered sugar. “On the house for you and your new friend, Bebe.”
She didn’t wait for an exchange of conversation, instead she began talking to the table next to us before making her way to another.
“Tell me more about yourself, Leah.” He drizzled honey over the dough covered in sugar and cinnamon.
“I’m very boring. School consumes all of my time and I graduate in a few weeks. What about you? What do you do for Mitchell Oil? I mean I know it’s family owned, but what exactly do you do beside probably play golf most of the day?”
He grinned a sexy as hell half smile. “I’m the CEO, and hate golf. My father holds the position as President of the Board and controls the majority of stocks, but I handle all operations… when I’m not preoccupied with other things.”
Other.
Shit! Since when did words like other sound so dirty?
The way the word rolled off his tongue and the way the flecks of whiskey color danced around his pupils, I knew he meant it as sexual. And he wanted me to read between the lines. He wanted to bait me… the smug grin he wore proved it.
“I’m sure you’re a very busy man.” I took the bait and challenged him right back.
“What do you do for fun, Leah?”
Read.
Watch movies with Carli—or alone.
Jog.
I shrugged. “I already told you.”
“Somehow I think there’s more to you than studying. What made you want to go into education?”
“I’ve never not wanted to teach. When I was a little girl, I lined all my dolls and stuffed animals up and pretended they were my students. Dad even made sure I had a large chalkboard wall in my room and every color chalk on the market.”
“My Gammy has a chalkboard wall in her kitchen. My two brothers and I used to draw boobs. You’d have to know my Gammy to understand the wrath of the situation.”
“It must have been nice to have… a big family.”
“The Mitchells are close. Do you have siblings?”
“Nope. It was just me, a traveling dad, a nanny, and a gardener growing up. I moved out a couple of years ago and pretty much spend most of my time at home or at Carli’s. Dad’s hardly ever home but I do drop by to see Anita… my nanny AKA, mom.”
“What happened to your biological mom?”
I froze and he caught my reaction.
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No. It’s fine. She left when I was a baby.” I paused before shoving the last bite of sopapilla into my mouth. “How old are you?”
He frowned and studied me for a moment keeping silent before asking, “How old are you?”
“I asked you first.”
“Thirty-two.”
“Twenty-one.”
Chad drew his eyebrows together and a stiff smile replaced his relaxed demeanor.
“Twenty-one.” He repeated my age as if making a clarification.
“Relax, I’m legal to drink if that’s what has you concerned.” I offered a flirty grin, something I hadn’t dished out since high school.
“It’s getting late. We should call it a night.” He tossed his linen napkin onto the table and stood before I answered. Jaw flexed, he fished out some cash from his wallet and placed the generous tip in the center of the table. It looked like he wanted to say something else but didn’t.
He waited for me to walk past him and he followed, escorting me outside. My mind raced in a million directions. Everything changed as soon as we discussed our age and he obviously had a problem with the gap of eleven years. Why did I feel annoyed? I should have been relieved we were about to go our separate ways, but I wasn’t.
Outside, the spring Texas night had already become humid and hot. Several blocks away, rows of glowing red taillights flashed on the busy freeway while this side of the feeder street was quiet, and stars twinkled brightly in the midnight sky above.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he muttered quietly.
Stopping at the edge of the curb, I turned to look at him. “I’m using Uber.”
He towered over me and his closeness drilled fear and curiosity through me. I wanted what? For him to kiss me? For his fingers to slide through my hair? I trembled slightly because I knew I did want all of those things.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“No. It’s fine.” My eyes fell to his mouth like a moth drawn to the flame.
“Leah,” he whispered so low I thought I imagined him calling my name.
“Thank you for the nice dinner, and again, the more than generous donation you made to help the kids.” I strolled over to the bright orange bench snuggled between tropical plants against the Cantina stucco wall.
“Come on. My car is across the street.”
He didn’t reach for my hand but held me in place with his deep penetrating eye contact. There was a hint of dominance mixed with gentleness and I knew he wasn’t used to being told no.
I wasn’t used to saying yes, but the way he made my insides tumble in somersaults it was as if no didn’t exist in the English vocabulary—and most certainly not in mine.
“Come on.”
We crossed the street and he led me to a dark grey shiny and sleek Aston Martin with exquisite detailing. I eased onto leather seats that felt like the finest cashmere. The seductive scent of Chad Mitchell’s cologne lingered inside, teasing my senses.
He slid in the driver’s seat and turned the engine, which sounded like a beast—like the man who controlled the power.
Even under the revved engine I heard him sigh as we sped away from the curb. What was it? What happened in the restaurant to make him change? Was it the age difference? Under the glow of the streetlights, I caught the scowl he wore, and it was as sexy as the devilish smile he’d flashed at me earlier.
Fucking hell, I wanted to kiss him.
The air left my body and I swallowed to try and relieve my parched throat. The way my body responded to open my mind, body, and soul.
What if I did the unthinkable and had a one-night stand?
Who cares if he saw my ugly scar?
Maybe we could keep the lights off and he’d never notice.
Our paths would never cross again.
I’d never see him again.
Chad Mitchell was the only one who’s ever made me have second thoughts about living a celibate life. And he’s the only one who’s made me feel alive and ignited a fire I’d thought died out a long time ago.
“Where to?”
“Colony Hills. It’s a few—”
�
��I know where it is.”
“4429 Bishop Street.”
He weaved in and out of the traffic, driving like a mad man down the freeway.
“I think I might have been safer in the Uber.”
He let out a soft laugh breaking the awkward silence. “You’re safe with me.”
Once he turned into the gated street, I pointed to the upcoming turn on the left and in a matter of minutes we pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment. His hand rested on the leather console and shifted his body to face me. Blatant desire radiated off him, but he kept his distance making a loud statement this was as far as he wanted to take it.
“You want to come inside?”
“Leah.” He exhaled with a low groan and my name on his lips sounded like it had warning all over it. “You know that’s a bad idea.”
“Is it?”
What had happened to me?
How did the long-gone audacious girl find her way back?
“You know it is.”
He averted his gaze looking through the front windshield, but I saw the tension still popping in his jaw.
“Does our age difference bother you?”
“The truth? Maybe.”
I turned my focus to my hands folded in my lap.
My truth? It hadn’t bothered me at all, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I felt wrung out, still trying to dissect how in the hell he’d affected me with scorching attraction. Never in a million years had I expected to ever feel the way he made me feel.
“That’s too bad. The night could have ended differently.” I opened the car door and stepped onto the pebbled sidewalk. Before I closed it, our eyes met, and I noticed lines creasing his forehead. I had to get out of here and fast. I was a hot mess and a hint of humiliation wafted through me.
I’d been ruined by a psychopath, left damaged without the hope of ever being normal—or so I’d thought. Tonight proved hope did exist, except the one guy to open pandora’s box wasn’t interested.
“Wait. I’ll walk you to the door.”
“It’s okay. I’ve never gotten lost.” I tried to laugh at my own stupid joke, slamming the car door behind me.
The sound of the car engine died, and footsteps followed close behind me.
“Leah, wait.”
Keeping Wicked (The Mitchell Brothers Book 3) Page 3