I hadn't gone on a legit date in three years, and this reality hit me as I stood in front of my closet. Since moving to New York, I had adopted three personas; consummate professional, club slut, and bum around the house. I knew it was possible to pull off a decent look for date night with the items I wore for work. Vincent probably wouldn't notice the difference. But I wanted him to notice, and I rifled through my collection determined to make an impression on Mr. Pragmatic. 

When I had exhausted myself and my wardrobe, I decided the situation required something more. I needed to go shopping. So, with my parent's splurge Visa in hand, I took the subway to one of my favorite boutiques and began the hunt. Despite growing up in a two-income household, Mom and Dad taught me the value of a clearance sale, and when I tried on a luscious salmon-colored silk dress marked down to seventy dollars, I did a fist pump as I made a model turn in the dressing room mirror. The color complimented my pale skin and the scoop neck covered most of my cleavage. I wanted to approach this date differently than I approached my fuck buddies, and that meant not distracting Vincent with my boobs.

When I arrived home with my oversized, environmentally unfriendly boutique bag, I texted Sylvie to fill her in.

Going on my first real date in three years. Wish me luck.

Less than thirty seconds later, I received Sylvie's enthusiastic response.

Call the president! Reese has a legit date. Who is it? I'm dying over here.

Vincent Valentino. His persistence broke me down. Not sure if I can thaw his cold heart though. He's an enigma.

I spent the next few minutes scouring my shoe collection, finally locating the leather espadrilles from last season, and Sylvie's text arrived as I posed in front of the mirror.

OMG! I looked him up. He's a fine MF. If you don't defile that, I'm coming up there to smack some sense into you.

Defiling is not on my agenda tonight. I'm trying to be a good girl. We'll see how far this new tactic gets me. I'll keep you posted.

You better.

At six fifty-five, I locked the door to my apartment and headed downstairs. I had initially hedged about wearing perfume, given Colin's reaction to my white musk, but I never catered to anyone but myself, so a dabbed a bit behind each ear and left it at that. As I waited in the foyer for Vincent's Bentley to arrive, Lilly from 1A stuck her head out her door.

"Hey, Reese. You look nice." She walked out to join me wearing a see-through tank with no bra and hip-hugging sweats. "You're dressed like you're going on a date."

I knew she was fishing for something. She let Vincent into the building last night, which meant she had seen exactly which apartment he ended up at.

"I am."

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Vincent Valentino." I tried not to look smug. I really wasn't into inciting envy, but Lilly was someone I had already pegged as a boyfriend stealer. And, sure enough, her penciled eyebrows rose as she grinned knowingly. 

"I had a feeling that's who it was. How did you manage to snag that sexy ass bachelor?"

How did I manage to...? Was she insinuating I couldn't attract a man like Vincent? "We met on a photo shoot last weekend."

And that's all you're getting out of me, bitch.

Through the foyer window, I noticed Vincent's car pull up, and I made a hasty exit. "Well, my date is here. I'll see you around, Lilly."

As I stepped onto the sidewalk, Vincent was already at the passenger door holding it open. He waved to Lilly, who was standing in the doorway with her mouth agape. Eat my shorts I said to myself as I slid across the smooth leather seat. Maybe I was into inciting envy.

Vincent greeted me with a cordial, "Good evening, Reese", and I caught him wrinkling his nose as I pulled my safety belt over my chest. Maybe white musk wasn't a favorite of the Valentinos. 

Freaks.

PT's Pad Thai had a reputation for being the place to go if you wanted to glimpse a local celebrity. So, of course, Vincent chose the high profile locale for our first date. To say I felt self-conscious as I walked in with Mr. Playboy was the understatement of the year, and I couldn't help thinking I was just another nameless female in his long string of conquests as every person turned to stare. Talk about ruining the mood.

We were seated, and Vincent ordered two bottled waters with a plate of lemons straight off, after which he seemed intent on studying the menu. I did the same, trying to ignore the hushed whispers of the patrons seated around us. We engaged in small talk about PT's amazing yellow curry and Vincent's recent visit to Thailand. Then the waiter took our orders. 

Left alone with nothing to distract us, we proceeded to sip our drinks like a couple of awkward teenagers. Although I didn't expect anything different based on my limited exposure to the man of few words, but he was supposed to be intelligent and worldly. And, more importantly, this was a date. Being the stubborn person that I was, I waited for him to initiate conversation.

"Those are pretty earrings," he said, gesturing to the dainty dreamcatchers Sylvie bought me for my birthday.

"Thanks. They were a gift from my best friend in Baltimore."

"Do you subscribe to the belief that dreamcatchers capture our nightmares?"

"Not really. I'm an incurable skeptic. But Sylvie believed they would help me sleep better. She's the one who saved me from jumping to my death when I thought I could fly."

Vincent bobbed his head automatically and conversation dipped again until our food arrived. As we focused on eating, I started to doubt my decision to say yes to Vincent rather than his brother. At least Colin knew how to hold a conversation. But I refused to throw in the towel without putting forth my best effort. He was too damned hot not to.

"Is everything alright, Vincent?"

"Of course."

He continued to eat his food as if my open-ended question hadn't come across. Was he that socially clueless, or was he just trying to get through dinner so he could take me home and bang me? While the idea had merit, I was determined to peel away some of Vincent's formal exterior to see if there was anything of value lying beneath his stiff collar. I set my chopsticks down and stared at him, point blank.

"What do you expect to get out of this date?" I asked.

Vincent abandoned his food and graced me with a full-on view of his perfectly chiseled face. "A delicious meal with a beautiful woman."

Okay, flattery was a step in the right direction, but I couldn't help feeling like the subject of a focus group. "How many dates have you been on?"

He shrugged. "A lot."

"And do you always charm your dates with your amazing conversational skills?"

He reacted to my obvious sarcasm with a confused head tilt. "I've been told I have a talent for captivating an audience, but in situations like this I usually let the women do the talking. Most of them have already read the numerous interviews I've given. There's a Wikipedia entry about me, if you're interested."

"Why would I want to look you up on the internet when I have you sitting right in front of me?"

Vincent still seemed confused, which triggered my anger.

"I think I get it now," I said. "What's the use in sharing information with a woman you're going to feed, fuck, then never see again?"

This time, Vincent lowered his chopsticks and gave me his complete attention. "I have no intention of fucking you, Reese. This is our first date."

Ouch. That one hurt.

"So, you're planning to take me out again?"

"Of course. I foresee a lot of dates in our future. I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're articulate, self-confident, and you're turning every head in this restaurant."

It was impossible not to glance around the room to confirm his statement, but I didn't feel any better when I caught several people hunched over their cellphones. They were probably tweeting about Vincent's newest bimbo. Still, Vincent seemed appeased, and he returned to his meal like he'd spoken the final word on the matter.

Honestly, what the hell was his game? Was this date designed as a test? Did he want to see if I could handle his indifferent manner long enough to make it to the sex part? Maintaining a relationship with a wealthy mogul who was constantly on the go probably took a special kind of woman. A woman who could find ways to entertain herself, apparently. Despite his attempts to keep me emotionally at bay, my attraction continued the longer I stared at him across the table. Whether he intended to or not, Vincent Valentino had offered me a challenge, something I hadn't indulged in for some time. Maybe that was the difference between him and Colin.

During the painfully quiet drive back to my building, I deliberated on whether to ask Vincent up to my apartment. Like any curious, horny woman, I had spent most of the evening imagining what he looked like beneath his button-down shirt and pleated pants. I had no doubt the sex would be amazing, at least that's what the tabloids reported. Of course, he had no intention of fucking me. Not tonight, anyway. But this might be my only shot at it. Vincent was turning out to be extremely high maintenance. 

As he pulled up to my building, I went for it. "Do you want to come upstairs?"

He didn't even look at me as he provided his answer. "It would probably be better if I didn't."

Again. Ouch.

Despite what he'd said earlier, I had not expected him to turn me down, especially after he'd been so casual about inviting himself in before. I stared at the side of his head, willing him to let me inside that complex brain of his, and he turned to meet my stupefied gaze.

"Please, don't misunderstand me, Reese. I would never intentionally insult you. You're a very desirable woman. No man in his right mind would turn down an offer like the one you've extended me, but I want us to get better acquainted before we give in to our base urges."

Base urges?

Was I really a forgone conclusion? I couldn't decide whether to feel insulted or flattered, and while there were several responses I considered giving him at the end of his speech, all I managed was an open-mouthed stare.

"Can I make a suggestion?" he said, taking advantage of my mute state.

"Go ahead." I crossed my arms in a defensive pose, preparing for his next unintended insult.

"I've noticed you like to wear bright colors, which look nice on you. But for practical purposes, I think you should dress more subdued. Do you own anything in black or navy?"

I didn't even try to suppress my snort, or the flare of anger that blossomed in my chest. This guy was a real piece of work. "I may have given you the date you wanted, but you have no jurisdiction over my body and what I cover it with."

"You're right, I don't. I was merely thinking of your safety."

"I don't see how the color of my clothes is going to keep me safe."

"Think about it, Reese. Shadows are dark, usually a mixture of gray and black. If you blend in with the shadows, you're less likely to be seen and preyed upon."

"Who's going to prey on me? New York is no different than Baltimore or DC. They're big cities with plenty of bad and plenty of good. You just have to keep a positive outlook and act like you know where you're going."

His brows furrowed, no doubt a reaction to some grizzly image his paranoid brain conjured up. It was more emotion than I'd seen him show in all the time we'd spent together. "I'm glad you have a positive outlook, but I have seen a lot of the bad, and I'm afraid I have developed a cynical outlook, or at least an over-cautious one."

"Well, ever since I ditched my asshole boyfriend my life has taken a turn for the better, and I won't let you or anyone else drag me back to that unhealthy, paranoid place. Keep that in mind when you ask me for a second date."

Having had enough of Vincent's shenanigans, I climbed out of the car and made for my building. Before I had a chance to unlock the door, Vincent was standing next to me.

"Please, don't end the night angry with me," he said. "Somehow, I keep managing to piss you off. The suggestion in the car... I only did that because I want to see you safe. I admit, this type of relationship is unfamiliar to me. I'm asking for a little patience."

"A relationship based on communication and trust is unfamiliar to you? That's just sad." I unlocked the door, still angry with him, and he caught my arm as I tried to scoot inside.

"Reese, please."

"What do you want from me, Vincent? If you want to control me, then I'm out. I will never be controlled by a man again."

"I don't want to control you, I want to..."

"Let me guess, you want to protect me? From what, exactly? Beggars, muggers, murderers? Do you see me as some clueless, fragile female who can't protect herself? I'm happy to give you a demonstration of how well I can aim my knee."

My temples began to pound, which was the first sign of doom for Vincent, and he responded by doing the worst possible thing. He grabbed my shoulders and backed me into the foyer. A second later, he had me pinned to the wall.

"What are you doing, Vincent? You need to back off."

"I just want to talk to you."

"Really? Now, you want to talk? Why didn't you think of that back at the restaurant?"

"I was distracted." He leaned in closer, his mouth lingering at my forehead forcing me to look up. Despite my strong desire to offer up my lips, I pushed against his chest, letting him know I was not okay with his forceful approach, no matter how hot it made me. 

"Distracted by what?"

"You."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense. I've been trying to keep my distance from you all night."

"Why?"

"I told you why in the car."

I released a frustrated sigh, and my breath blew against his face, which hovered barely two inches from mine. "Oh, you mean your base urges? That didn't seem to stop you with the hundreds of women you've dated."

"There haven't been hundreds."

"Whatever. Will you please back up?"

"What are you afraid of?" His voice slipped out in a throaty whisper, as if he was taunting me.

"I'm afraid of nothing." This was a lie, of course, but he didn't need to know that. I had to keep the upper hand and focus on my breathing, but my chest was filling with virtual cement, making me want to gasp. Shay would be so disappointed.

"I have no doubt you could put me in my place if I pushed too far," he said.

"It would take less pushing than you think."

"Reese, I'm not going to hurt you. Try to calm down."

"Calm down! And I suppose backing me into the wall is your brilliant solution for that."

"I can't help it. I want to be close to you. Extremely close." Vincent's chest came to rest on mine, making me feel claustrophobic, but also incredibly turned on. His lips were near enough to touch, and I ached to have them on me, but I also wanted to slap them. What the hell was happening?

"Vincent." I spoke his name like a plea. My lips were actually trembling. 

"I think I know what you need," he said.

"So do I. I need you to back the fuck off."

"No, Reese. You need to be kissed." He released my shoulders and brought both hands to my face, holding my head between them, but he didn't move in. He just stared at me, his breathing controlled, wearing an unreadable expression. He was deliberating, like he wasn't sure he wanted to do it. Damn him.

"You put your lips on me and you'll end up with a knee to the...."

Vincent's lips slammed into mine, silencing me with their searing heat, and the swirling hurricane that had been my brain skidded into slow motion. Suddenly, white hot need replaced the rage, and I dove head first into his kiss, jamming my tongue past his lips, devouring his taste and inhaling his scent like life-giving oxygen. 

Two years. I had not felt the passion of another man's kiss for two years, after Heath turned into a villain and ruined everything. I swept my fingers through Vincent's hair, savoring its silkiness and absorbing the warmth of his nape, while his hands continued to hold my face firmly as if I might slip away. His kiss was beastial and lusty, and his tongue lapped at my mouth while his teeth teased my lips, threatening to bite down. At my thigh, I felt his stiff erection, which made my sex throb. It was almost too much. Zero to one hundred in under a second. I was ravenous, like a desperate animal.

Then Vincent pulled away, and it felt like a slap in the face. The loss was palpable, unbearable, and I was left with a piercing ache where his body had been. I scrabbled for a handhold on the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over me. Shit. Was I going to pass out? Was this what they called swooning?

"Vincent... I..."

Vincent eyes shimmered like mercury as he gulped in air, clearly affected by our scorching exchange, but his mood swiftly changed to something that looked like anger as he watched me struggle to stay upright. "Dammit!"

With no warning, he scooped me into his arms and bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The fact that he was able to carry all one hundred and forty pounds of me and do it without breaking his stride was an amazing feat, and my preoccupation with his dexterity took the focus off my deteriorating condition.

"Key," he commanded when we reached my apartment, and I jammed the key into the lock while he held me. Once inside, he closed the door with his foot, and I tossed my purse on the kitchen counter as he made for the bathroom. The next thing he did was completely unexpected. He climbed into the shower and turned it on, drenching us both with frigid water.

"Are you insane?" I sputtered under the shocking spray.

"Just give it a minute."

As the cold water poured over our bodies, Vincent set me down and pulled me into him, stroking my hair as I pressed my cheek to his chest. Gradually, I stopped thinking about the water soaking me and my new silk dress. The painful ache subsided, and my pulse slowed to a regular rhythm. Never had I been the recipient of such a powerful kiss; the seeing stars, feet leaving the ground, creaming my panties kind of powerful. But it didn't explain why I'd nearly passed out. That was not normal.

Finally, I lifted my head, forcing Vincent to look at me. His smoky gaze searched my face, and I saw something in his eyes, something that wasn't there before. Emotions, lots of them. He was letting me in, or maybe I was giving myself permission to go in. The unveiling of Vincent. I wanted to kiss him again, but I was afraid of what might happen. An aneurysm seemed possible.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked.

"Wet, but calmer."

He reached past me to turn off the water, and with one arm wrapped around my waist, he leaned out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. Before I could take it from him, he started dabbing the moisture off my face. For a moment, I just stared at him. His tender gesture was a little jarring after the intensity of the last few minutes. It also seemed completely out of character for him, but I closed my eyes and let him dry me, accepting his offering before he detached again. 

With unexpected care, he smoothed the towel over my hair, squeezing the water from the ends, and I let my head loll back as he moved to my neck and shoulders. When he reached my breasts, I heard him moan, and I opened my eyes as he handed me the towel.

"I'm sorry if I ruined your dress. Is it silk? I'll replace it."

"I think the dress will survive. It's me I'm worried about. Don't let this go to your head, but that was one helluva kiss. For future reference, will I need to wear a raincoat whenever you kiss me?"

And just like that, Vincent's demeanor hardened, and he appeared to curse inwardly as he grabbed another towel to drag through his hair. I felt him retreat as he let the silence grow, and when he pulled the shower curtain back to step out, he was hiding behind his wall again.

"I should not have kissed you. Not so soon. I let my emotions get the better of me." His tone was filled with remorse, like emotions were something to be ashamed of.

I crossed my arms over my breasts, which had made a prominent appearance through the wet silk. "So, you regret kissing me?"

"I didn't say I regretted the kiss. I said I should not have kissed you so soon. I want us to get to know each other before we get physical."

He tossed his towel in the hamper and left the room, forcing me to follow him. I couldn't help admiring the ripples of his muscular back through his clingy cotton shirt. It made me want to wring him out. Why did this beautiful man have to be so disengaged?

"You said I needed to be kissed."

Vincent stopped to lean against the kitchen counter, capturing me with a penetrating look that had me slowing my pursuit. "You did. How long had it been since you kissed a man?"

I tightened my lips, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "About two years."

"I guessed at least that. But you haven't been celibate."

"What difference does that make?"

"In a romantic relationship, sex is the natural progression from kissing. While it is easier to emotionally detach yourself from your sexual partner if there is no kissing component, or very little."

I couldn't help smirking. He sounded like a sex education instructor. "You talk about it like you've learned from experience."

"I have learned from experience."

I noticed Vincent tended not to mince words. I liked that in a man, but I also liked guys who didn't turn their emotions on and off like a faucet.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

Geez. Give a girl time to catch her breath.

"Um... When? Mr. Pearlman has an appointment with the cardiologist at four and we planned to grab dinner near there."

"Who is his cardiologist?"

"Dr. Travejo. He's at the VA."

"I know Dr. Travejo. I'm involved in the adaptive sports program. There's a diner that caters to the vets not far from the clinic."

"Shuster's Diner. That's Mr. Pearlman's favorite. He loves the meatloaf."

"I could meet you two there. If you're okay with that."

"Sure, if you don't mind listening to old war stories. Mr. Pearlman has a million of them."

"As long as you're there, I would listen to every one of them."

His compliment had my doubts fading like a bad dye job, and I grinned stupidly, hoping it would spark something similar in him. He managed a close-mouthed smile, probably feeling the pressure to return mine, but it was enough to make my heart flutter. Damn, I wanted those lips on me again, whatever the side effects might be.

"I really am sorry about your dress," he said. "Although it looks good wet."

I glanced down at my chest, not surprised to find my nipples standing at attention. Vincent pulled open the door and my body tensed. Was it responding to his imminent departure?

"Goodnight, Reese. Sweet dreams."

"Same to you, Vincent."

"That's pretty much a guarantee." His smile widened a fraction as he locked my door and pulled it closed. I slouched against the counter as I replayed the last ten minutes of our date in vivid technicolor. There was a real possibility this man would be the best and the worst thing to happen to me.

PLAYLIST SONG: Closer by Kings of Leon