He smiled, took a step closer. “When we were kids, every once in a while my mom would have some kind of bridge night, or girls’ night . . . I don’t know what it was. But we loved it, Trent, Jason, and I. Our dad always brought out the pie, cake, even ice cream sundaes before we’d have dinner.”

“Did you finish your dinner?”

“Not always. But we enjoyed it more because we’d done it backwards.”

“That’s sweet. If we’re not having cake first . . . then what made you think of that story?”

Glen took another step closer and reached over to push one of the curls from her shoulder. Heat rose in his eyes, and the response of her body was chemical. “Because of this.”

His hand slid behind her neck and encouraged her into his arms as he lowered his lips to hers.

She was stunned. From head to toe her body short-circuited. He was warm and smelled delicious . . . and utterly confident as he pressed her body next to his. The span of his hand wrapped around her waist but didn’t move beyond that spot. She slowly woke up, closed her eyes, and kissed him back. It felt good to be kissed. She barely tasted his tongue before he backed away.

With her eyes closed she felt his stare.

“I wanted to do that for a very long time,” he confessed.

She slowly opened her eyes and kept looking at his chest. “You caught me off guard.”

He placed his finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “We’re even then. Now we can have a nice evening without either of us wondering what that was going to taste like.”

“You had your dessert first.”

Glen shrugged. “What can I say? I have a sweet tooth.”

She grabbed her clutch on the counter. “Shall we?”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her outside.

Glen had been told by one of his very first girlfriends that women obsess over the good night kiss on the first date. Through all the years of dating, all the women he’d played tonsil hockey with while in college, he’d never kissed one when she opened the door.

Damn, he was happy he’d done it with Mary. She tasted like cinnamon, which was probably gum, or maybe toothpaste, but she smelled like an ocean breeze. He glanced over at her, sitting in the seat beside him in the back of the Lincoln Town Car. She had long legs and wore sexy heels that should be impossible to walk in. Damn, the dress. He envied the fabric that hugged her skin. Mary was a beautiful woman, a fact he’d known since they met . . . but tonight she was sexy. Something in the way she smiled . . . or maybe it was the lack of challenging him with every word? He didn’t want to question it.

“So where are you taking me?”

This was where Glen had all his cards. “Have you ever had a progressive dinner?”

“Like hopping from one place to another?”

“Yeah, I have a great place for drinks before dinner. The view is spectacular. A short ride from there we have dinner reservations.”

He liked when she smiled at him. “And dessert?”

“You want more dessert?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed.

“You mean something with sugar?”

She lost her frown and giggled.

“You need to do that more,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

“I laugh all the time.”

“Not around me.”

She sighed. “When you’re not infuriating me, you’re quite witty.”

“I’m witty when I’m infuriating you.”

She giggled again.

The driver pulled through the gates and onto the tarmac.

“I should have guessed,” she said under her breath.

“Yes, you should have.”

A Hawker 800 stood ready. Mary presented her ID to airport security as a precaution, and he helped her up the small staircase and into the plane. It wasn’t a huge aircraft, but it wasn’t without its bragging points either. “Sit wherever you like,” Glen encouraged her as he took the three-step detour to the cockpit. “Ready when you are, gentlemen.”

The copilot followed him back and secured the door. “If there is anything you need, Mr. Fairchild, let us know.”

“We will.”

The plane started moving nearly as quickly as the copilot closed the cockpit door.

“I thought you’d be the one flying.”

He took the seat across from her and fastened his belt. “I like being in control, but I don’t always have to be the pilot. Besides, I’d need a bigger plane for there to be enough room for you to join me up there.”

She smiled again.

He was on a roll.

“Do you take all your first dates on planes?”

“You might assume that, but no. Never.”

“Really? Why?”

So many reasons, he thought but didn’t say. “I guess it comes down to expectations.”

“Expectation of taking a private flight for a date every time?”

“There is that.”

“There is more you’re not saying.”

Glen took in her expression. She had this shine behind her eyes when she was reading you. Something that made you hope the closet you wanted closed was firmly shut because if it wasn’t, she was going to bust that shit open and find all the laundry you shoved in the corner. He wasn’t ready to reveal all his reasons, but he had a few he could disclose. “I’m a pilot, and one of three brothers who own and operate one of the largest personal jet charter companies out there. I know my mode of transportation is set aside for a very few of us in the world. I’m also aware that plenty of people would use any one of us to tap into that ride. When you take that away from the start when you’re dating, it lets you know if you’re being used.”