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Mike drummed his fingers on the table, then stopped when he realized what he was doing. No need to be nervous. It was just Charlotte.
Like Charlotte could be “just” anything.
He’d gotten to the restaurant fifteen minutes early, and he’d been seated near the bar. It did have a nice atmosphere, as Mason had promised. Sometimes his friend had questionable taste, such as olive oil ice cream, but he’d done well here. There was lots of wood—exposed beams and such. A little candle flickered at the center of the table.
Mike would have to remember this place for when he was ready to move on to real dating. Although right now, it was hard to think of any woman but Charlotte.
Especially when she was walking across the restaurant, looking totally kick-ass. Like a woman on a mission. Like she was ready to rock this practice date.
He grinned.
He would have pulled out her chair if he thought that was the kind of thing she’d like, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t.
Instead, he stood up and gave her a hug.
Charlotte Tam. It was still hard to believe she was back in his life.
He’d missed her, but he didn’t say that.
“Did you find the restaurant okay?” he asked.
“Yep, no problem. Just a twenty-minute walk from where I live. Near High Park.”
There was a bow on the front of her shirt, just below her throat. It looked so freaking sweet. He wanted to undo it. Not that undoing the bow would expose more of her skin, but he had this intense desire to unwrap her.
As if reading his mind, she took off her blazer.
“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” she said.
Oh yeah, it sure was.
The pink shirt had short sleeves—why did he enjoy looking at her arms so much?—and her dark hair fell in soft waves, just to the top of her breasts.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded, but there was a tremor in her voice. “Is my outfit inappropriate? You’re supposed to teach me about dating, so if I’m not wearing the right thing, I want to know. My friend helped me with this—I usually wear old pajama pants all day—but maybe she—”
“You look beautiful, Charlotte. Truly.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, seeming slightly shy now. She took a sip of water then examined the smudge of pink lipstick on the glass, as if confused by where it had come from.
She probably didn’t wear lipstick much, and the fact that she’d done it for him...
Well, his heart beat a little faster.
“Shit,” she said. “I probably shouldn’t have talked about old pajama pants. Not really a turn-on, right?”
And now he was imagining her in pajama pants and nothing else.
He swallowed. “Don’t censor yourself too much. It’s fine.”
He was about to take a sip of water but then realized she’d taken his water glass. There had only been one glass of water on the table, as he’d been alone when he’d been seated, and the waitress hadn’t come around again.
Charlotte realized this a second later. “Shit, I took your water. Shit, I’m swearing a lot.”
She did seem rather anxious.
Fortunately, he had lots of experience with soothing Anxious Charlotte.
“How about you take a look at the drinks list?” he said, holding it out. “I’m going to order the Honey Blue.” He pointed at a cider on the list. A wild blueberry and honey cider from Trash Panda Cidery.
Charlotte made a face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s listed as semi-sweet. That’s too sweet.”
“Aw, come on. It’s probably not half as sweet as Dr. Pepper.” That had been her favorite beverage back in the day. Her parents rarely bought it, but whenever she got to have a soft drink, that was the one she chose.
So many details about Charlotte were coming back to him, and he was learning new ones, too. Like the fact that she hated sweet cider.
“What are you going to get?” he asked.
She scanned the menu, her expression serious. “Get out of my trash.”
What? Why was she saying that to him?
Then he looked at the menu and realized it was another cider from Trash Panda Cidery. An oak-aged cider, listed as “dry.”
“You sure you want that one and not Roadkill?” he teased. This was a cider aged in wine barrels with raspberries and cranberries.
Was it called “Roadkill” because it was red?
“Tempting, but no,” she said. “Maybe later.”
He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “What do you have against sweet cider?”
She shuddered.
Charlotte could be very expressive in her movements. Her face didn’t hide much, either.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just think it tastes better when it’s not too sweet. I never liked sweet alcoholic drinks. Coolers?” She made a face. “Ugh.”
“Hard lemonade?”
She shuddered again.
For some reason, he enjoyed getting her to do that, and she seemed more relaxed now that she was insulting his taste in cider.
Good. This was exactly what he wanted.
* * *
“Cheers, I guess,” Charlotte said, holding up her glass.
“You guess?” Mike asked.
His eyes fucking twinkled. Who had eyes that actually twinkled?
Mike Guo, apparently.
He grabbed his glass of cider—it was a weird purple color—and tipped it against hers.
“It’s been good to see you again,” she said honestly.
“Here’s to us figuring out dating.”
“Us figuring out dating? I thought you were supposed to help me.”
“Right, right. I almost forgot. I’m the lady-killer who’s teaching you all about dating.”
She snorted before she could try her cider.
And dammit, his eyes were twinkling again.
Yep, he was totally a lady-killer, even if she hated that term. He was wearing a polo shirt and jeans again today, but a different shirt from last time. He had a casual, effortlessly handsome look.
The boy next door.
Why was his smile so damn sexy? Again, it wasn’t a calculating sort of sexy. Just easygoing.
They’d always been very different.
“How’s your cider?” she asked after he’d tried a sip.
“Very good. Reminds me of blueberry pie.”
“A cider should not remind you of blueberry pie. That’s wrong.”
He passed over his glass and she had a taste.
“Not for me,” she said.
He laughed. “Your expression of disgust is priceless.”
Yeah, she’d probably been making faces. “Guess I shouldn’t do that on a date.”
He shrugged. “Can I try yours?”
She slid her glass over, and he tried it and scrunched up his face in an exaggerated fashion, which made her laugh. Then he mimed choking.
“That bad, eh?” she said.
“Not bad at all, but mine’s better.”
“You have such a sweet tooth.”
“What can I say? Guilty.”
It was just like talking about nothing in particular with a friend. When Charlotte had gotten to the restaurant, she’d been a little nervous and uncomfortable, but now, she didn’t feel too bad.
Though perhaps she should make this a little more date-like.
What had Nicole and Julie suggested she do to be seductive? Something about biting her lip. But was it her bottom or top lip?
This important information had flown out of Charlotte’s head. Inconveniently, she still remembered every first-date horror story she’d read this afternoon, although they were no longer at the forefront of her brain.
She was pretty sure it was her top lip, but that seemed rather awkward.
Well, no surprise that seduction came awkwardly to her.
She thrust out her bottom lip and tried to dig her teeth into her top lip. Hmm. That wasn’t working right. She tried again.
“What are you doing?” Mike asked. “You’re moving your mouth like one of the weird fish I saw at the aquarium on Monday.”
An image of Nicole biting her lip suddenly popped into Charlotte’s mind. That would have been really helpful ten seconds ago.
Because if Charlotte remembered correctly, Nicole had been biting her lower lip.
“I was, uh, trying to seduce you,” she mumbled.
“How was that supposed to seduce me?”
“I was doing it wrong. It was supposed to be like this.” Charlotte sank her teeth into her bottom lip, a bit too aggressively. She might be close to drawing blood.
“More like this?” Mike coquettishly bit his lower lip in a way that she hadn’t managed. She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if his lips and teeth were on her.
“Dammit, I’m hopeless.”
“No, you’re not.” He leaned forward. “You look very sexy in that outfit.”
“Which I didn’t pick out myself.”
“You drink your dry cider seductively.”
“You’re not shitting me, are you?”
“I would never. And when you rest your chin in your hand and look at me like I’m a movie star named Chris whose shirt you want to remove, it’s sexy, too.”
“I do what?”
He smiled. “You’ve done it a couple times. Eye contact is important, and you’re doing a good job at it. Don’t act so outraged at my compliments.”
She tried to speak but couldn’t manage to form words.
“Anyway,” he said, unbothered by her speechlessness, “I don’t think you need the lip-biting trick, but I can teach you, if you like?”
* * *
Half an hour later, Charlotte was an expert at biting her lower lip seductively.
Mike sure was good at it. He’d probably had lots of women use this technique on him, and that’s why he could do it easily.
She was now on her second cider. Roadkill, which she’d gotten mainly for Mike’s amusement, but it was sour and rather tasty. Not as good as Get Out of My Trash! but still pretty good.
Mike had gotten a clementine cider from Prince Edward Cidery, which was far too sweet.
Now, the waitress was setting their pizzas in front of them. Charlotte had ordered one with goat cheese and roasted vegetables; Mike’s had cantaloupe, ricotta, and prosciutto, and she did not approve.
Melon on pizza? No, thank you.
She didn’t say anything, though, because if she were on a date with a new guy, it probably would be best if she didn’t criticize his pizza choices. But if a guy ordered Hawaiian pizza, she might have to say something. She wouldn’t be able to help it.
Pineapple on pizza was gross.
And now she remembered that Mike, horror of horrors, had liked Hawaiian pizza when they were kids.
“Want to trade a slice?” Mike asked, after they’d each eaten one of their own.
“Um,” she said.
“What’s wrong with my pizza? Is it the cantaloupe? You sure have lots of opinions on food and drink.”
“Yeah, cantaloupe doesn’t belong on pizza.”
“Trust me, it’s good.”
Well, she was a tiny bit curious about how weird it would be, so she relented, and they passed each other a piece of their pizza. Mike took a bite, and her gaze was drawn to his lips.
She’d spent a lot of time looking at his lips tonight. Mostly because he’d been teaching her how to turn someone on by biting her lower lip, of course.
Wait. Had he been turned on by watching her bite her lower lip? Not at the beginning, but once she’d mastered it?
Rather than consider that, she tried Mike’s pizza. The prosciutto was delicious. The ricotta was delicious. The cantaloupe? Not so much.
“Yours is really good,” Mike said, “though not as good as mine.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Goat cheese is tasty on pizza,” he went on. “Unlike in ice cream.”
“You know Treatzz on Ossington? They make an amazing fig goat cheese ice cream. I had it last weekend.”
“Oh, is that what you ordered in your bubble waffle?”
How did he—
“I saw you when I was waiting in line.” He grinned. “Let me guess. You also ordered the olive oil ice cream?”
“Nope, tiramisu.”
“I got lemon meringue and chocolate ginger. Do those meet your approval, unlike my pizza?”
“They’re acceptable.” Lemon meringue was actually one of her favorites, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him that.
It was easy to be with Mike. She felt like she could relax. Say what she wanted.
They’d always bickered and ribbed each other, but he did it all with a smile on his face, and they’d never had big arguments. Teasing each other about liking Hawaiian pizza or ketchup chips or Dr. Pepper had just been the way they’d interacted. All in good fun.
She hoped she could find a boyfriend who’d talk to her like this.
“So, I was reading about geophysics yesterday,” he said. “Tell me a little about what you do, and I’ll dazzle you with my knowledge.”
“I’m a consultant. People give me data they’ve had collected, and I interpret it. Sometimes I help them design the surveys, too. I specialize in non-seismic geophysics, mostly magnetics and time-domain EM.”
“Damn. I only read about seismics. I’m gonna look stupid now.”
“A lot of geophysicists do seismics. But after university, I worked for an airborne company known for its helicopter EM system. It’s like...” She grabbed a pen from her purse and drew a helicopter, towing a transmitter and receiver behind it, on a napkin. She started drawing the waveform before realizing this was likely of no interest to Mike and wasn’t something she should do on a date. “Anyway.” She turned the napkin over. “Airborne surveys can cover a large area, and then I identify areas of further interest, depending on what they’re looking for. They might do ground surveys to follow up, then drilling. But mineral exploration can be very boom-bust. When it’s bad, there’s almost no work. I do some groundwater stuff, too.”
“How’d you get into geophysics?”
“There were a few options within geological engineering. I chose geophysics because I was doing well in my physics course.” She shrugged. “And I like the idea of using physics to tell you what’s underneath the surface. Different deposit types have different properties, so that affects which type of survey is most appropriate.”
“I always knew you’d do something cool.”
They ate their pizza in companionable silence, and then the waitress came around and asked if they’d like the dessert menu.
“Yes, please.” Charlotte could use a coffee, too.
It was a short menu, and it all looked good. She was particularly tempted by the chocolate and coffee mousse, as well as the warm apple ginger crumble with homemade vanilla ice cream. And the tiramisu...
“I’m a little full after the pizza,” Mike said. “You want to share something?”
Charlotte almost said, No, I want my own!
However, sharing dessert was a very date-like thing to do, right?
“Chocolate coffee mousse or the apple ginger crumble?” she asked.
“Let’s do the crumble,” he said, “and let’s try the ice cider, too.”
“It’s really, um, expensive. For only two ounces.”
“I always wanted to try ice cider. I’ll pay, don’t worry.”
“No. You’re doing me a favor by teaching me how to date, therefore I’m paying.”
He chuckled. “Alright.”
“And I insist you get the ice cider. I’ll order one, too.”
When the waitress returned, they ordered the apple crumble plus the ice cider, and Charlotte also asked for an espresso.
“I can’t believe you drink espresso at eight o’clock at night,” Mike said. “That doesn’t affect your sleep?”
“I used to drink coffee at all hours, but once I hit thirty, I had to stop drinking it after nine. But I’ve still got plenty of time before then.”
The ice cider from Quebec was indeed amazing. It reminded Charlotte of ice wine, and the process to make it was probably similar. Although it was sweet, that didn’t bother her. The rich taste exploded in her mouth. Like dessert in a glass.
They started on their actual dessert, the ice cream melting on the warm spiced crumble. Oh, God. That was incredible. When she moaned in appreciation, she swore Mike’s eyes flashed with heat.
She was probably imagining that.
But when she leaned forward to help herself to more crumble, her hand accidentally brushed his, and it did indeed feel like a real date.
* * *
When Mike offered to walk her home, Charlotte accepted. It would be better not to walk on the dark streets alone, and this was the sort of thing a date would do, right?
They arrived at her building, and she stopped on the sidewalk.
“You know,” she said, “before I left, I spent hours reading first-date horror stories, and that’s why I was rather worked up when I arrived.”
He laughed softly, and for some reason, this seemed particularly intimate.
“I hope none of them came true,” he said.
“No, I had a good time tonight. Thank you. Perhaps this dating business won’t be so bad after all.” Something suddenly occurred to her. “What am I supposed to do at the end of the night? Are we supposed to kiss?”
“Either of us could make a move, but you shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to do. If I wanted to kiss a woman, first I’d step closer to her.” He did this, and she couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath. “Then I’d lean in slightly. If she nodded or leaned forward, I’d kiss her. If it wasn’t clear what she wanted, I’d ask. If she stepped back, I definitely wouldn’t push it. But some guys are awful, so kick them if they do something you don’t like. And if you’re ever in a bad situation, call me. I’ll come get you no matter what, okay?”
“Thank you.” Why did her voice sound so weird and breathy?
“Don’t think about what you should do, but what feels right. You don’t owe a guy anything, but if you want...” He leaned forward. “Charlotte, would it be okay if I kissed you—”
Oh, God! Yes!
Why did the thought of kissing Mike make her so excited?
“—on the cheek,” he finished.
Right. She might ask for actual kissing lessons later, but this was only their first practice date.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He cupped her cheek and tilted his head. The press of his mouth on her skin made her want more, but she restrained herself from turning her head so their lips would meet.
Damn, he was good at this. She’d definitely picked the right guy to teach her.
“You want to go out again?” he asked, still standing close to her.
“Yeah. I could use more practice.”
“I have something in mind. Would next Saturday afternoon work for you?”
She nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you.”
Once more he pressed his lips to her cheek, and afterward, instead of walking away, he stood on the sidewalk, as though waiting for something. But what?
Perhaps he wanted to make sure she got in the building safely, but her mind was a little mushy after that chaste kiss.
She opened the door, and he waved at her when she was in the lobby. She waved back before going up the elevator, and once inside her unit, she looked at herself in the mirror and attempted to sexily bite her bottom lip.
Not bad.
She wondered what Mike would teach her next time and where they would go.
Who would have thought she’d actually be excited about putting on pants next Saturday and leaving her apartment?