Chapter 61
**Sara**
I stepped out of my apartment, pulling the door shut behind me. The sky hung low and heavy, a blanket of clouds threatening rain. Perfect weather for ice cream, I thought wryly.
I'd agonized over what to wear, finally settling on a sleek black dress that hugged my curves. It was probably overkill for a late-night ice cream run, but hey, a girl's gotta look her best, right? I'd paired it with strappy heels that made my legs look a mile long and a denim jacket thrown over my shoulders for that casual "I'm not trying too hard" vibe. My hair cascaded down my back in soft waves, and I'd touched up my makeup, giving myself a smoky eye that I hoped screamed "effortlessly sexy" rather than "trying way too hard."
As I descended the steps, I spotted Tom leaning against his car, looking unfairly handsome in dark jeans and a fitted button-down. His eyes widened as they traveled up and down my body, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Well, well," he drawled as I approached. "I didn't realize ice cream was such a formal affair. Should I have worn a tux?"
I tried to ignore how my heart skipped a beat at his appreciative gaze. "Please, this old thing? I just threw it on."
"Uh-huh," he said, clearly not buying it. "And I suppose those heels just happened to be by the door?"
"They're my comfy shoes," I deadpanned. "Perfect for a night of rigorous ice cream consumption."
Tom laughed. "Of course. How silly of me to think otherwise." He pushed off the car and stepped closer. "You know, when you suggested ice cream, I pictured sweatpants and a messy bun. Not..." he gestured vaguely at my outfit, "all this."
I raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. "Disappointed?"
"Devastated," he said solemnly. "How am I supposed to focus on my rocky road when you look like that?"
"Maybe you should've worn a blindfold," I teased, trying to mask my jitters.
"And miss this view? Not a chance," Tom replied with a wink.
The drive to the ice cream parlor was filled with playful banter and stolen glances. I found myself relaxing, almost forgetting the complications of our situation. Almost.
"So, rocky road, huh?" I asked as we pulled into the parking lot. "I pegged you more as a vanilla guy."
"I'll have you know I'm full of surprises."
Inside the shop, we perused the flavors like kids in a candy store. I settled on a scoop of chocolate chip while Tom stuck to his beloved Rocky Road.
"Want a taste?" he offered, holding out his spoon.
I leaned in, my lips closing around the spoon. The rich chocolate melted on my tongue, and I let out a little moan of appreciation. When I looked up, Tom's eyes had darkened.
"My turn," he said, voice low. I offered him a spoonful of my ice cream, watching as he savored it slowly.
"Mmm, sweet," he murmured, "but not as sweet as you."
"That was terrible," I laughed.
"Made you smile, though, didn't it?"
"Alright, Casanova. Don't let it go to your head."
We finished our ice cream, savoring the last bites of our sweet treats. A cool evening breeze ruffled my hair as we stepped outside, sending a slight chill down my spine. I shivered involuntarily, pulling my jacket tighter around me and wishing I'd worn something a bit warmer.
"Cold?" Tom asked.
"A little," I admitted. "But it's nice out. Want to walk for a bit?"
He nodded, and we set off towards the nearby riverfront. The sky was still overcast, but the threat of rain had lessened. The clouds cast a dreamy, ethereal quality over everything.
As we strolled along the riverfront, I couldn't help but be hyper-aware of Tom's presence beside me. Our hands brushed occasionally, sending little sparks of electricity up my arm. Was he doing it on purpose? I snuck a glance at him, but his face betrayed nothing.
The memory of our night together flashed through my mind, and I felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the weather. I half-expected him to pull me into a secluded corner and ravish me like he had before. But Tom remained the perfect gentleman, keeping a respectable distance between us.
"So," I said, trying to distract myself from my less-than-pure thoughts, "what made you decide to become a professor? I mean, with your family's wealth, you could've done anything."
"Ah, the age-old question. Did I mention I get that a lot?"
"I can imagine," I replied, grinning. "Let me guess, you wanted to mold young minds and shape the future of finance?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said. "I wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and say, 'Today, I will inspire the next generation of corporate drones.'"
I laughed. "When you put it that way, how could anyone resist?"
"In all seriousness," Tom continued, his tone softening, "I love what I do. Sure, I could've gone into investment banking or taken over the family business, but there's something incredibly rewarding about teaching. Seeing that moment when a concept clicks for a student, knowing I've helped them understand something new... it's addictive."
"Wow," I said, genuinely impressed. "That's... actually really cool."
"Don't sound so surprised," he teased. "I'm not just a pretty face, you know."
"And so humble, too."
Our hands brushed again; this time, I was sure it wasn't an accident. Tom's fingers lingered against mine for a moment before he pulled away. I felt my heart rate quicken.
"What about you?" he asked. "Any big plans after you finish your MBA?"
"Oh, you know, the usual," I said airily. "Take over the world, become a billionaire, buy my own private island."
"Is that all?" Tom laughed. "Aiming a bit low, aren't we?"
I pretended to consider this. "You're right. Maybe I'll shoot for two islands."
"That's more like it," he nodded approvingly. "But seriously, what's your dream job?"
I bit my lip, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "I've always wanted to work in sustainable finance. You know, helping companies balance profitability with environmental and social responsibility."
"That's fantastic," Tom said, and I could hear the genuine enthusiasm in his voice. "The world needs more people with that mindset."
"Yeah, well, we'll see if I can actually make it happen," I said, shrugging. "It's a competitive field."
"I have no doubt you'll succeed," Tom said softly. He stopped walking and turned to face me. "You're brilliant, Sara. And passionate. Any company would be lucky to have you."
I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Thanks," I mumbled, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes.
We stood there for a moment, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. Part of me desperately wanted him to kiss me, to throw caution to the wind and give in to the attraction we both clearly felt. But Tom just smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
"We should probably head back," he said, slightly husky. "It's getting late."
I nodded, trying not to feel disappointed. As we turned to walk back to the car, I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if we'd been truly alone, away from prying eyes. Would Tom have kissed me then? Would we have recreated our passionate night together?
But as we walked, Tom kept the conversation light and professional, discussing recent developments in corporate finance and sharing funny stories from his teaching experiences. It was nice, in a way, to see this side of him – the passionate educator rather than just the incredibly sexy man I'd spent the night with.
Still, I couldn't shake the lingering desire that simmered beneath the surface. Every accidental touch, shared laugh, and time our eyes met felt charged with possibility.
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