“Well, that won't do. Not that those cookies weren’t amazing. They were. But, I'm a big believer in the power of nutrition, Lilah. We can't afford to negle
ct our bodies as we obsess over work—and yes, doing exactly that is something that I'm guilty of myself, so I know how you feel. Listen, how about we get dinner? I was just about to head out to grab a bite to eat myself. How do you feel about Greek food?”
I smiled. “I love it,” I exclaimed, feeling an immediate flush of embarrassment at my bubbly enthusiasm.
He chuckled. “Excellent. That makes two of us. I just have a few things to finish up in my office. I'll call my driver and arrange for him to pick us up in half an hour downstairs. Sound good?”
“Sure, sounds like a plan,” I responded.
***
“That was some of the best hummus I've ever had,” I said. “I can't believe I've never been to this place before.”
“It's great, isn't it? Hey, how about another glass of wine?” Asher asked as he poured himself a bit more of the dry red he pulled from the ice bucket next to our table.
I was definitely feeling the effects of the wine we'd already had. He was pouring from the second bottle of the night and it was almost empty. My head was starting to swim, and I sensed that it was affecting Asher, as well. His speech was sounding a bit slurred and his eyes were looking a tad glossy. He'd told me before we started dinner that he rarely drank alcohol, for health reasons, although I suspected it had more to do with the fact that he didn't like losing control and letting his defenses down. Aside from the occasional beer with Eddie, or going out with my friends every now and then, I wasn't much of a drinker myself—yet there we were, almost two bottles in.
The wine had just flowed quickly and easily. We'd been chatting non-stop since we'd arrived at the restaurant, and the conversation had flowed as smoothly as the wine had. It had been hard to decline every offer of a fresh glass, so when he offered me yet another refill, I took him up on it.
“Thank you,” I said politely. But I couldn't help letting out a giggle as he almost knocked the bottle over.
“Oops,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Nearly made a mess there!”
He filled my glass with the last of the second bottle. We raised our glasses and clinked them with a smile passing between us.
“To your future at Sinclair,” he said.
“To my future at Sinclair,” I repeated before taking a hefty swig of wine.
We continued to chat until our glasses were empty.
“Would you like—” he began, his eyes sparkling with a suggestive glint.
“I don’t think more wine is a good idea for me. I really need to get home,” I interrupted. I wasn’t sure wine was what he was about to suggest, but I wasn’t about to assume or open that door wider. “I'm exhausted.”
He nodded. “Yes. Less wine, more sleep. That's probably for the best.”
“We both have a lot of work to do tomorrow, and trying to get it done with a hangover will make for a pretty awful day. I think I've had about as much wine as I can handle.”
“Yes. I wouldn't want to miss my morning workouts, either.”
“Wait,” I slurred. “Did you say workouts? As in plural? You do more than one?”
“I'm up at 5:00 every morning. I’m in the gym for an hour, and then later in the morning, I train with a Muay Thai master.”
“Muay Thai?”
“Thai kickboxing. That's where this little souvenir came from,” he said, pointing at the bruise and mostly-healed cut on his cheekbone.
I'd been wondering how he'd got it, but hadn't mustered the courage to ask. “Oh. That sounds pretty intense.”
“It is. But that's the way I like it. I'm a man who likes to push himself, Lilah—in all fields of activity,” he informed me, his eye locked on mine.
“I see.” Heat flushed through me at the insinuation and the intensity of the connection between us.
“All right,” he said abruptly, “let me take care of the bill, and then I'll get my driver to pick us up. We'll drop you off at your place.”
“That sounds great, thanks.”