As I stepped into the lively restaurant, my heart raced at the thought of finally meeting Carter Dane. I had arrived an hour and a half late, and my anxiety grew with each step I took toward his table. The curious glances from other diners only heightened my nerves. When I finally spotted him, I noticed he was staring off into the distance, seemingly lost in thought.

I quickly slid into the chair across from him, breathless and embarrassed. "I’m so sorry for being late," I said, forcing a smile as I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ve only been here for about twenty minutes.” My guilt eased slightly as we settled into our seats.

The evening began with a palpable tension. I had a tendency to use tactics that often pushed men away—being inattentive, stepping away to take calls, burying myself in work. Yet, Carter seemed unfazed by my behavior. His attention remained on me, and he effortlessly guided the conversation into engaging territory.

As he spoke, I took in his striking features: blue eyes that seemed to hold galaxies within them, a broad-shouldered frame standing at an impressive six-foot-three, and jet-black hair that was impeccably styled. He wore a sharp three-piece pinstripe suit that highlighted his commanding presence.

I was lost in conversation, captivated by his insights and charm, when I suddenly realized how late it was. Just as we were getting comfortable, the restaurant began to empty around us. I wondered if he would ask to see me again, but as I tried to catch his eye for hints, I found his gaze unreadable—an unusual occurrence for someone like me, who could usually decipher the intentions of others.

As we walked out together, I felt a mix of hope and uncertainty. My mind raced with thoughts of him asking to meet again, but I was determined to stay focused on my work and not let this distraction derail my plans.