Cook the Books

are not deceiving.
    Kyle rested his fork on his plate and shut his eyes, laughing softly. “Okay, this restaurant has officially been cut from the list of possibilities for the cookbook.”
    “You think?” I asked with a grin.
    “Let’s get out of here.” Kyle didn’t bother getting a check for our pathetic meal. He stood up and threw some cash on the table. “This meal isn’t worth deducting as a business expense,” he joked.
    Kyle held the door open for me as we exited into the busy scene in Kenmore Square. The college kids were out in full force, and groups of laughing students brushed past us on their way to the bars. Kyle offered to walk me to my car, but I’d taken the T. Public transportation was easy for me because the C Line ran right into Cleveland Circle, which was only a few blocks from my place.
    “I’m not letting you ride home with all these drunken idiots,” Kyle said as he waved his arm around us. “A pretty girl like you would be fending off ogling frat boys the whole way home. Come on. I’ll give you a ride.” He flashed me a sexy smile and held his arm out for me. “Madame? Or should I say, signora ?”
    “Ugh,” I groaned. “No Italian right now, please!” I looped my arm through his and let him escort me to his car.
    I stared at Kyle as he drove us down Beacon Street toward Boston College and listened to him ramble about other restaurants we could try. He really was good looking and genuine and... well, normal. Plus, he drove a badass Audi with leather seats and a kickin’ sound system. I let my focus drift over his body and admired his solid chest and narrow waist. When I worked my gaze back up to his arms, I wondered what sort of defined muscles might be lurking under that suit of his. His lips were full and sort of...
    “Chloe?”
    “Yes?” I whispered a bit too breathlessly.
    “This is your turn, right?”
    “My turn?”
    “To your house.” Kyle pointed to a street sign.
    “Oh. Yes, that’s it.” As we drove up the side street, I fidgeted nervously and flipped my hair over my shoulder twice.
    Kyle pulled up to the curb and set the car in park. “Sorry dinner didn’t go as planned, but I’ll make it up to you. You pick the next restaurant, okay?” He touched his hand to my arm and smiled.
    I held his look. We were having a moment! I could feel it! “I had a great time,” I said in a voice that I hoped was steamy and seductive. “I really did.” With no forethought, I leaned awkwardly across the gearshift and flung my arms around Kyle’s neck. I touched the back of his head with my fingers as I pressed myself against him. I inhaled. He smelled like the icky Italian restaurant, but I couldn’t fault him for that, especially because I must’ve smelled the same way. I was making my first move since Josh. And it felt wonderful! I was moving on, charming new men, and leading an exciting single life! I buried my head in his neck and then kissed him softly there, letting my tongue tease him. Kyle patted my back, slowly at first, and then suddenly with great urgency. Well, I thought, this is an odd way to show affection, but rapid back-patting was apparently Kyle’s way of encouraging me, of letting me know that he was responding to my sexy neck-kissing move.
    “Oh! Plowee!” Kyle’s voice sounded weirdly muffled and frantic.
    I yanked myself away. My winter jacket had puffed up around my shoulders and was pressing against his face. I was suffocating the man!
    “Sorry! Sorry about that!” I stammered as I fumbled with my seatbelt. “So, so sorry!” I yanked repeatedly on the door handle, willing the stupid thing to open and free me from further embarrassment. “What’s wrong with the door? It won’t open!” I pounded my shoulder against it just as Kyle hit the unlock button, and as the door flew open, I lurched violently to the right. Amazingly, I caught myself, dangled precariously over the curb, and held still, possibly in hope of finding a graceful way to make a recovery. But there was none. I waved my left hand in Kyle’s direction, and he grabbed hold and pulled me upright. I did my best to compose myself and appear relaxed. “Well, thank you for dinner. I’ll call you in the next few days with an update on the cookbook progress. Good night.” I beamed idiotically and stepped out of the car.
    “Chloe, it’s okay,” Kyle called after me. He rolled down his window and continued talking. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. Please,