Tanner laughs. “It’s New York City—no one else gives a shit what we do in public.”
“But they will when they see the pictures, right?”
He stops to inspect me from head to toe, and I squirm under his gaze.
“If the pictures look half as good as you do right now, with your rumpled clothes and your lipstick smeared all over your sexy mouth, they are going to lose their minds.”
“So, we can go then?” I’m not smiling. I’m not.
“Sure. If you’ll let me walk you home.”
And no, my heart doesn’t leap when he squeezes my hand. That’s just a street musician playing the steel drums.
As soon as we turn the corner, I try to slip my hand from his grip, but he holds tight.
“Pretend you like me. It’s only a few more blocks.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
He stops me at the crosswalk. As the cars stream by, he lets go of my hand and slips his arm around my shoulder, drawing me in. I don’t hug him back, but I don’t pull away.
“Well, for starters, when I hold you, you should lean in.”
“Like Sheryl Sandberg?”
He chuckles. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”
People are bumping into us and cursing as they fight their way to the crosswalk. But Tanner just stands there, looking down at me as if we’re the only two people on the sidewalk. He seems to enjoy being an inconvenience to me and everyone around us, his gray eyes sparkling as he gives me a half smile.
Finally, I lean in and rest my head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his hard chest against my cheek and the scent of his cologne. His arm is so strong, but he holds me gently, sliding his hand from my shoulder to the curve between my waist and my hip.
My mind flashes back to my teenage years when the only way to have any sort of privacy was to leave the house. I’d take whatever affection I could get away with, wherever I could get away with it—inside a dark movie theater, in the back seat of a car, behind the claw machine at the arcade—and be home before curfew.
Except now, I’m a grown woman and I can stay out all night if I want to. And I definitely want to.
“Green light,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
“What?”
“The street just cleared. We should cross now.”
Damn him. I knock his arm off my shoulder and charge ahead. Behind me, a yellow taxi cuts him off and leaves him waiting at the sidewalk.
“Elsa! Wait!” he yells, as I cross the street without him.
I cup my mouth with my hands and blast his words back in his face, “Pretend you like me. It’s only a few more blocks.”
“What does that mean?”
“Chase me!”
I break into a jog—best I can in heels—and put enough distance between us that he’ll have to sprint to catch up with me. I don’t dare look back. I know Tanner is following me because I can hear the pounding of his footsteps and the occasional “Watch it!” from some unfortunate pedestrian in his path.
My apartment is several blocks away, but the distance is short. I run past the doormen with fancy white gloves and the ladies with tiny, white dogs. No one seems to notice me streaking by with a gorgeous man behind me in hot pursuit.
Everyone around here is in too much of a hurry.
Finally, I stop in front of my building, panting and resting my hands on my knees.