Really he was. Or at least he claimed to be. That was until he’d picked Darcy up and civilized flew right out the window. He’d been a perfect gentleman, he hadn’t even kissed her, but honestly that was only because if he’d kissed her he wouldn’t have been able to stop. One kiss and she’d have ended up on the foyer floor with her clothes shredded to pieces, probably while her mother watched. Because, Jesus Christ, that dress. He worried he might be salivating. It was black, slinky, and hugged every curve. It went perfectly with her shiny black hair, red lips, and exaggerated cat eyes. She looked gorgeous, exotic, and so sexy he thought he might pass out from lack of blood flow. For the first time since she’d been back in town she looked like she’d been living in New York for all these years. Sophisticated, seductive, and intoxicating. She was like crack. As promised, he’d picked her up exactly at eight, and they were now seated in the middle of the crowded restaurant, pretending to look at menus while what seemed like half the town watched.
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