Then there had been the day he’d gotten the call about his wife . . . when they wheeled her in the surgery. Those unending moments when the doctor came out and told him the news.

His first look at his son, hooked up to a vent as he struggled to live.

Trey knew all about how it felt to have the air knocked out of him, but he generally associated it with pretty shitty things.

He didn’t think it had once felt like this.

Ressa opened the door, standing there in the doorway with light spilling out around her while she wore a dress of red that cupped her breasts and skimmed in over a waist that dipped in and all but begged for him to curve his hands around it, before flaring out over those lush, round hips.

She’d twisted her hair up and back in a way that made him think of a time gone by—drive-ins and diners and girls in poodle skirts and muscle cars. Her mouth was once more painted red and made him think of sin and sex while his mind went blurry and hot. Her eyes were smoky, smudged, and as he tried not to gape at her, she lifted one brow, an almost-amused expression on her face.

“Hello.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then he tried again and had to clear his throat before he managed anything more than “. . . Uh . . .”

Now a smile curved her lips and she leaned against the doorway. “What’s the matter, Trey? Cat got your tongue?”

It was the smile that did it.

He should have a little more class than that, more subtlety, better moves or something.

Considering what was going on with him, he should’ve had a little more fear. But as she continued to stand there, grinning at him like that, his mind just clicked off and instinct clicked on and he moved, caught her around the back of the neck.

A startled noise escaped Ressa—she might have been trying to say something but by the time his mouth slanted across hers, it became a moan and her hands curled into the lapels of his shirt as she rose up onto her toes to meet him.

It was like the past few weeks had fallen away. Nothing else mattered in that moment as he fell into a spell of lust, heat, and need. He licked at the seam of her lips and then pushed inside, craving more.

She opened for him and he banded an arm around her waist, hauling her close. The taste of her—sweet, sweet woman and coffee—flooded him and he thought he just might go crazy if he ever had to wait so long to kiss her again.

It was the sound of a car blasting by that had him jolting to his senses. Common sense told him to put some distance between them.

His cock pulsed against the warmth of her belly and her open door beckoned them. He could have her inside there in just a few seconds . . . naked in just a few seconds more, although really, naked wasn’t necessary, just tug up her skirt and . . .

Stop. Now. Before you turn into a drooling maniac.

Instead, he eased back and rubbed his lips across hers. “I’ve only thought about doing that a thousand times in the past six weeks.”

Her lashes fluttered up. “I’ve only thought about you doing that a thousand times,” she said, her hands still curled into the front of his shirt.

Pressing his brow to hers, he forced himself to let go. It took more willpower than he thought he had, but he was able to manage it, uncurling his arm from her waist, releasing the grip he’d had on her neck.

She was slower to let go of his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles away. Finally, he put a few feet between them and looked around. “So. This is where you live. Nice place.” Then, he added wryly, “Not a bad neighborhood.”

“Well, seeing as how I live about a half-mile away from you, I’d hope you like the general area.” A bubble of laughter escaped her. “I kind of like it myself. You want to come inside, see the place?”

*   *   *

His eyes came to hers and the heat inside them almost turned her bones to mush. Ressa thought her legs would dissolve, she truly did.

Sucking in a slow breath, she casually braced her weight against the wall at her back.

If he said yes . . .

If he said yes, then she’d damn well take him inside and screw the date.

“I want to.” Then Trey’s lashes swept down over his eyes and he stepped back another step. “Which means I’m going to stay right here while you lock up. We’re having a date. Dinner. Conversation . . .”

“Any reason why we can’t do that if you come inside?”

“If I come inside, we aren’t going to leave for a while.” His gaze traveled down to her mouth. “We both know that.” Then, her heart clenched inside her chest as he reached up and cupped her face. “I want to spend time with you . . . get to know you. That means I can’t go inside.”

*   *   *

She’d been prepared for a lot of things.

Ressa had gone on more than her share of dates. First dates weren’t anything new to her. She’d had more than a few where she’d called a friend from the bathroom to help her bail out gracefully because she didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, a couple where she just hadn’t cared because the guy was such a roach—and a couple of times she’d had to call a friend when one of those roaches had up and decided You think you can brush me off like that, bitch?

And then there were the dates that had been on the verge of flipping a coin—Should I let him pay or am I going Dutch . . .

She had everything from hot dogs and canned sodas to gourmet meals and candlelight, but she hadn’t known what to expect from Trey Barnes.

It hadn’t been this.

Now she’d heard about this place, but she had absolutely no thoughts about getting inside—it wasn’t even open . . . yet.

Eying the unlit sign as he held open her door, she held out her hand. “I don’t know if now is a good time to point out that I am kind of hungry.”

“Well, since I did tell you I wanted to take you out to dinner, I was kind of hoping you would be hungry.” He grinned at her and shut the door as she shifted her attention back to the not-yet-opened business in front of her.

It was set in one of the older buildings and although she knew they had been working to renovate it, if she hadn’t been aware of it, she’d think she was looking at the place as it had been built maybe two hundred years ago. Towering, imposing . . . and maybe slightly spooky.

Perfect for the themed restaurant that would open in the next couple of weeks.

As of now, though, the place wasn’t open.

“So. . . .” She drew out. “If this place isn’t open, how are we supposed to eat?”

Trey’s grin widened a little farther. “That’s easy.” He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out a key ring. “I’ve got an open invitation . . . and they are still doing the finishing touches on the final menu. I called earlier and asked if maybe I could come by . . . bring a date.”

Ressa’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the keys.

Then she swung her head around and stared up at Chillers.

Local media had been talking about this place for months now and with the opening getting closer, the place was being talked about more and more. She definitely had plans to come—once the madness stopped, but she’d expected that would take a while. It wasn’t every day that a couple of best-selling writers got together and decided to open up a joint like this. Chillers wasn’t being billed as a typical restaurant. It was an entertainment venue, complete with private areas for large parties; they were going to have live music, and she thought she’d seen a mention that they were already booked, as far as musical acts went, for the next six months straight.

Chillers had a bookstore as well—one that would carry mostly genre books, with a heavy focus on thrillers, suspense, and horror—but they weren’t skimping on any of the others, either, and they were also going to be doing author events. The last she’d seen, they already had seven lined up over the next few months, including a local writer who was fairly popular, a big-name romance writer, and a couple of fairly well-known urban fantasy and science fiction writers.