I gulp in a breath and whisper, “I’m not scared.”
“Liar,” he whispers back, stepping closer, sheltering me from the cool January wind with his big body.
I roll my shoulders back and arch a challenging brow. “You always call your boss a liar on the first date?”
“I’ve never dated my boss, but I call ’em like I see ’em. And if this fucker who allegedly doesn’t scare you bothers you again, I’ll destroy him with my bare hands. How about that?”
I blink faster, my heart racing. “I don’t normally condone violence.”
“I don’t either,” he says, his arm going around my waist as he draws me against the long, powerful length of him. “But my gut says a beating is the least this guy deserves.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, fighting to swallow past the lump forming in my throat. “He’s a monster.” I curl my fingers around the lapel of Cam’s long wool coat, my next words escaping before I can stop them, “You aren’t a monster, right? Not even a little bit? You promise?”
Pain and empathy flash in his eyes. “No,” he says, cupping my cheek with his free hand. “I’d never hurt you, Nat. At least not on purpose.”
I roll my eyes as I joke, “Right. I mean, you can’t help it if I fall madly in love with you and you decide you just want to be friends.”
“I don’t want to be friends,” he says in a rough, husky rumble that makes my nipples pull tight inside my lace bra and an electrical storm sweep through my body.
Before I can do something embarrassing—like confess his “sexy voice” is nearly enough to make me come, right here on the sidewalk in front of the other pedestrians and Abdul who sells shawarma on the corner—his lips are on mine and any doubt that our first kiss was a fluke vanishes in a wave of hunger.
I cling to his coat and press closer, meeting each sweep of his tongue with mine, losing myself in his heat, his taste, until a cheery voice booms, “Get a room, you two,” startling us apart.
I look over to see a young homeless guy in a bright orange sock cap grinning at us from barely a foot away. He’s missing a few teeth and has the scraggliest blond beard I’ve ever seen, but for some reason he doesn’t scare me.
He makes me laugh.
He makes Cam laugh, too, as he pulls a five-dollar bill from his coat pocket and hands it over. “Sorry, man. Grab a sandwich on me. My way of saying sorry for the PDA.”
“Cool, thanks,” the guy says, taking the money. “You two have a great night. Just do it in your bedroom so the rest of us don’t get jealous. It’s a cold world out here without a special friend, you know?”
“Oh, I know, believe me,” I say, fishing a ten from my purse and holding it out. “Breakfast and lunch tomorrow are on me.”
He holds up a hand, waving it as he takes a step away. “Nah, I’m good. Five is enough. If you give me more, I’ll be tempted to buy something I shouldn’t, and I don’t want to do that. I’m eight days sober. Just got my one-week chip.”
“Amazing,” I say, with what I hope is an encouraging smile as I slip the money back into my purse. “Well, good luck. It’s so great you’re making that change for yourself.”
The man grins. “Yeah, it is.” He lifts a hand to us both and starts toward the shawarma stand. “Later, lovers.”
Cam and I stand in silence for a beat, watching him go. When I turn to look up at him, he’s smiling down at me with a fondness that makes me feel self-conscious. “What?”
He smiles. “I like the way you talk to homeless people. Like they’re people.”
“They are people.”
“Yeah, but a lot of folks forget that.” He leans closer, adding in a faux whisper, “I also really like the way you kiss.”
“Same,” I say in a matching whisper. “I would like to do more kissing very soon. If that’s all right with you.”
“That’s so all right with me,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead, sending a rush of heat and gratitude working through me that’s more than attraction.
I could fall for this man—fast and hard—I realize as we catch a cab and head uptown to the gala. But for the first time, the thought isn’t scary. Nothing about Cam is scary. He’s kind, patient, and sweet, but strong, confident, and sexy as hell at the same time.
Basically, he’s the kind of unicorn man I wasn’t sure existed in real life.
But Cam is real, and his hand feels so good in mine that I can’t bring myself to let it go when we reach the top of the steps leading into the museum.
So, I don’t. I hold on tight, keeping my fingers threaded through his as we step into the enormous lobby, now strung with thousands of lights crisscrossing the space, transforming it into a fairyland.