Ruthless (The Calvettis of New York 2) - Page 4

I glance across the table at him. He’s shifted in his seat. He’s leaning forward now, his index finger circling the rim of his glass.

“Very much so.” I nod. “Are you going to try your drink?”

“In time.” A smile ghosts his mouth.

I have no problem drinking alone, so I take another taste of my cosmopolitan. Lowering the glass to the table, I tilt my head. “What’s Philadelphia like? I’ve never been there.”

That perks one of his dark brows. “Are you considering visiting Philadelphia?”

“Are you offering to show me around?” I volley back.

It’s bold, but if I don’t take the bull by the horns, I’ll need to get a new vibrator because mine is wearing out fast.

Dale finally takes a long sip of his whiskey.

I watch his Adam’s apple bob on a swallow. Everything about him is so masculine, right down to the size of his hands and the scent of his cologne.

“I haven’t gone on many blind dates,” I confess, not bothering to add this week to the end of that sentence.

My sister, Gina, set me up with the brother of one of her friends four nights ago. That date lasted ten minutes because he misunderstood and thought he was meeting Gina for dinner, not me.

“Is that so?” Dale studies my face.

“I usually meet men at the regular places.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Dating apps, clubs, the library.”

“The library?” He laughs, and oh my God, what was that?

How can a man’s laugh be that sexy?

I snap back to the conversation at hand. “I like men who read.”

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He drinks again, and I stare like it’s the first time I’ve ever witnessed a human being quench their thirst.

I tear my eyes away from his face. “Maybe I should say I like men who can read.”

I wait for the laugh that never comes from him.

Dammit. I want to hear it again.

I go on, “I’m not that picky. To be honest, I’ve dated all types of men.”

“And that means what?” His eyes search mine. “Tell me about the men you’ve dated, Isabella.”

Chapter 3

Bella

“Where, oh where, do I start?” I bark out a laugh.

“The beginning generally works.” Dale takes a sip of water.

I should follow his lead, but I need something stronger, so I go for the cosmo. I swallow a large enough gulp to fuel my courage.

“Does the beginning matter when the end looks like you?” I whisper under my breath.

Dale leans closer. “I missed that. What did you say?”

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance
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