Seduce Me. Jo Leigh

left in life. It was the age of spoilers—everything from movies to novels to credit scores were searchable. He liked to receive first impressions in person whenever possible. With a clean slate. Just hearing her voice had been enough to conjure images that were bound to be way off.

      Lviv was down a flight of stairs. On the patio was a small grouping of outdoor tables, all occupied. It wasn’t a jeans-and-T-shirts crowd, even though the weather was great, but not suits, either. Inside at the small bar, there was a big age range and a relaxed atmosphere. He assumed she’d chosen a place that was both familiar and comfortable, because she sure hadn’t chosen it for a high-ticket meal.

      He’d timed his entrance perfectly, but when a couple of minutes ticked by and no one approached, he turned back to the patio.

      As he moved aside for a departing couple, he realized a lot of the people behind him at the bar weren’t speaking English. It sounded Russian, but was probably, in this part of town, Ukrainian, which he understood was close.

      The voices receded as his gaze caught on a great pair of legs coming down the stairs. The heels were black and high, almost stilettos, and one step later he got a glimpse of a red dress swinging against shapely knees. He waited in anticipation as the rest of her came into his line of sight.

      She was curvier than a lot of women he knew, and he liked that. He didn’t mind a thin body in his arms, although he preferred a softer experience. The red dress was tight around the middle, and the neckline showed off what appeared to be a hell of a nice rack. Dark hair bounced on her shoulders, soft curls that moved with her, and he only got a side view, but so far, he really hoped it was Natalie.

      Dammit, now he’d done it. She’d probably walk into another man’s arms and Natalie herself would disappoint him. Aw, hell. What was he thinking? There were a lot of beautiful women in the world, in this city, on this block. All different kinds. For all he knew, she could already be here, scoping him out.

      Turning back to the bar, he didn’t notice anyone craning to see the door. Behind him, a soft throat clearing made him smile.

      It was the woman in red, and head-on she was...attractive. Not as stunning as some, but he wouldn’t mind looking at her during dinner or across a mattress. “Natalie, I hope?”

      She nodded. Held out her hand.

      He shook it, glad for the few seconds’ grace to adjust to the real woman. “Nice to meet you in person. I can’t wait to learn more about you.”

      “I do have the advantage,” she said, gripping her purse once she had her hand back.

      “Not for long.”

      “Uh-oh. I guess fair is fair.” She led the way to the hostess, who smiled brightly at Natalie and gave her a hug.

      “I have a table ready. The best one,” the hostess said, her accent strong. The woman pulled out a couple of menus, but before they moved, Natalie introduced them. The hostess was Mrs. Hanna Evanko—she owned the restaurant, along with her husband.

      They were seated in a quiet corner where they wouldn’t be bothered much. A simple round table with white linens. He held Natalie’s chair, which earned him an approving nod from Mrs. Evanko before she slipped away.

      He’d been given one of their large menus, but he put it aside for the moment. “Would you like wine with dinner?”

      “I would,” she said.

      “Anything you recommend?”

      “It’s not a big selection, but everything is decent. My preference is red, although I’m flexible.”

      His brows rose, but only for a second. Certainly the double entendre was unintentional.

      Natalie blushed like a nice rosé, confirming his supposition.

      A younger woman wearing the simple black-and-white attire of the staff came to the table with a couple of candles. She looked as if she might be related to the owners. After she lit the candles, she looked at Max and said, “More romantic,” in that same accent.

      He caught the end of a sigh coming from Natalie. “Don’t worry,” she said. “They think being single is a disease. But they mean well.”

      “I have an aunt Ellen who’s like that, although she’s pretty much given up on me.”

      Natalie’s eyes widened, but just for a second. Then she was looking at the menu. “Have you had much eastern European food?”

      “No. I don’t know why. What I have had, I’ve liked.”

      “If you have any questions, ask away.”

      “Am I the first trading-card guy you’ve gone out with?”

      Startled, Natalie opened her mouth, but didn’t speak right away. “Yes,” she said, finally, but he got the feeling she wanted to say more.

      He leaned forward, as if to tell her a secret, but he was actually checking out the dilation of her pupils, the way her breath caught on an inhale. “I’ll make sure this evening lives up to your expectations.” Then he sat back, picked up the menu he’d set aside and said, “Studenetz?”

      Natalie blinked twice as she moved her gaze. She touched her lower lip with her index finger and looked at him again with a smile that might have been wicked if it hadn’t vanished so quickly. “Fish in aspic.”

      “Ah. Sounds like that might be an acquired taste.”

      “You’re right,” she said, her voice reserved, almost formal. But that blush of hers hadn’t disappeared yet. “I usually recommend the verenyky. Dumplings seem to be popular in every culture.”

      “I’ll try those first.”

      She nodded. “Good. You can also try my borscht if you’re daring.”

      “Oh, I’m daring, all right.” This time he really was talking about food, but watching her swallow gave him a clue where her mind had gone. Then the tip of her tongue swiped that same spot on her lower lip and he wanted to sample that instead.

      “I see,” she said. “Brave and daring. That’s quite a combination, and we’ve just gotten started.”

      He shifted his gaze to his water glass, but a second later he was drawn back to her lips. He liked their shape. It was easy to imagine how they’d fit against his mouth. “Your turn,” he said, just before he cleared his throat.

      “To do what?”

      “Tell me about yourself.”

      She glanced at him, then away. “The first thing you should know is that this isn’t easy for me.”

      “What do you mean?”

      After taking a deep breath, she met his gaze again and didn’t waver. “The trading-card thing is an enormous stretch. I’m not what you’d call a social butterfly.”

      “What would you call yourself?” he asked, wishing the waitress had brought wine instead of a candle.

      “I’m something of an introvert.”

      “Really?”

      “It’s not that I’m too shy to socialize or go places, but big crowds can be intimidating and sometimes I need time to recharge on my own. The reason we’re at this restaurant is because I felt it would be easier to be around familiar people.”

      “That makes perfect sense. Including the part where this is a stretch for you...”

      “You have no idea,” she said, with a laugh. “So if it’s all right with you, I’ll start with the easiest question for me to answer. I’m passionate about film.”

      Max put his white napkin on his lap and watched her do the same. “Film? I would have guessed books, but film is more intriguing.”

      “I do love books, but film caught my attention when I was young and never let go. Old ones.