Reese sat across from Christian at the narrow table in the warm, dimly lit restaurant. The glow of soft candlelight flickered between them, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Their knees brushed under the table, a subtle, shy dance of their own as a soothing jazz melody filled the room. Reese's body swayed instinctively to the smooth sound, her eyes fluttering shut as she let the music wash over her. She raised her wine glass to her lips, savoring the taste, her movements in perfect rhythm with the gentle notes. Christian watched her intently, his gaze unwavering. She looked ethereal, lost to the music, her every movement fluid and mesmerizing. He felt a pull, a deep, magnetic draw toward her.

"Would you like to dance?" he whispered gently, his voice barely audible over the melody.

Reese's eyes opened slowly, meeting his gaze. For a moment, she seemed disoriented, pulled back from whatever world the music had taken her to. Christian's eyes held a softness, a gentleness that seemed almost out of place for a man with such a commanding presence. There was something else in his expression, a quiet desperation, a longing.

"I don't think we can dance in here," she replied, glancing around the intimate space. The other patrons seemed engrossed in their own worlds, engaged in quiet conversations or absorbed in the ambiance.

"You can dance anywhere," he replied without breaking his gaze. His hand extended toward her, an invitation. "Come on."

Reese hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. The contact sent a warm jolt through her, and she felt herself being gently pulled to her feet. Christian led her to a small, open space near the corner of the room. The slow, sultry jazz twirled around them like a soft, invisible thread, weaving them closer together. As he drew her near, Reese felt a familiar warmth spread through her chest. She let herself melt into him, the strong, comforting lines of his body against hers. It had been so long since she had felt this—a connection, a moment of intimacy. Not since Collin. She hadn't realized how much she missed it until now.

Christian moved with a grace that surprised her, guiding her effortlessly to the rhythm of the music. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Every now and then, she would lose her footing, her foot accidentally pressing down on his. Each time, he simply smiled, his grip on her waist tightening ever so slightly, steadying her. He didn't seem to mind at all.

"You're quite good at this," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper against his chest.

"I have my moments," he replied softly, a smile playing on his lips. He, too, was lost in the comfort of the dance, the feel of her body close to his. He had been lonely for so long—longer than he cared to admit. But in this perfect moment, it was just the two of them, and that loneliness seemed to slip away.

"Ms. Sutherlin," he whispered close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

"Yes?" she responded, her voice dreamy, her eyes still closed.

"The music stopped."

Reese's eyes fluttered open. She pulled back slightly, looking around, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Oh," she stammered, feeling flustered, "I must have—"

"It's okay," Christian interrupted with a gentle smile. "Shall we return to our table?"

She nodded, allowing him to lead her back to their seats. The spell of the moment was broken, but a lingering warmth remained. They sat down, and Christian leaned back in his chair, his expression playful.

"So," he began, his tone light, "it appears I do know what you like."

Reese raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Oh, do you now?"

"On the way here," he continued, "you mumbled that I didn't know what you liked."

"And you still don't," she countered with a smirk, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Christian chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "I knew you would like this place," he said, gesturing around, "but specifically, I knew you would like the jazz music."

"And how did you figure that?" Reese asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm observant," he replied simply, his eyes twinkling with a secret knowledge.

"Observant, huh? Meaning?" she pressed.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Meaning I noticed the small music note tattoo behind your left ear."

Reese's hand instinctively reached up to touch the delicate skin behind her ear. "That could just mean I'm a lover of music," she pointed out, her tone skeptical.

"It could," he conceded with a nod, "except for... no, never mind," he said, taking a sip of his drink, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

"What?" she asked, leaning in, intrigued.

"The first time you came to my house, when you broke in," he began with a smirk, "I watched you pull in from the second-floor balcony. You were listening to Chet Baker."

Reese's cheeks flushed a deep red. "You were watching me?" she asked softly, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I couldn't take my eyes off you," he admitted, his gaze intense, "and not just because you were uninvitingly coming into my home."

A silence settled between them, charged with unspoken words. Reese swallowed hard, her mind racing. "Why then?" she managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper.

"Oh, Ms. Sutherlin," Christian said with a grin, "the night is still young. I wouldn't want to scare you away too soon."

"Well," Reese replied, her voice regaining some of its strength, "I thought we were supposed to be getting to know each other... you know, for the sake of our business relationship." She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Don't hold back now."

Christian's expression grew serious. "Fine," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers. "Truth."

"Truth," she agreed, matching his intensity, before taking another sip of her wine.

"I was imagining ripping off those clothes you were wearing," he confessed, his voice low and steady, his jaw clenching.

Reese choked on her drink, a small spray of wine escaping her lips and splashing onto his shirt. She gasped, mortified. "I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, rushing over with a napkin, her hands fumbling as she tried to dab the fabric dry.

"It's okay," he said, laughing softly, "though I can't say I've ever gotten that reaction before."

Reese settled back into her seat, her face flushed. "Does that usually work on women?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" he responded, feigning innocence.

"Objectifying them," she clarified, her tone sharp but playful. "If you rip any clothes off me, you better be willing to pay for them."

Christian leaned forward, his eyes dark with intent. "I can assure you, Ms. Sutherlin, I can afford it," he replied smoothly. "And replacing your clothes would be the last thing you'd be thinking about."

"Oh, really?" Reese challenged, a smirk playing on her lips.

"If you were mine," he said, his voice a low growl, "you'd be more concerned about resting. I would have your body sore for weeks," his words were confident, dripping with promise, his jaw clenching again.

Reese's breath hitched at his words, but she quickly recovered. "But I'm not yours, Christian," she countered, her voice steady. "And besides," she added, her tone softening but still firm, "you still belong to someone else." She hesitated, her eyes searching his. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather keep things professional and not get entangled with a married man."

Christian's smile faltered slightly, a shadow passing over his features. He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Fair enough, Ms. Sutherlin," he said quietly. "Fair enough."