Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) by A.O. Peart

pomegranate and black cherry with hints of orange peel. The velvet-like fluid gently coats my throat, making me want to try more.  
    “Glad you like it, Natalie.” The way he pronounces my name makes me shiver in anticipation. Crap, this is our fourth date.
    Suddenly, I feel almost like a teenage virgin, all flustered and unsure of herself. I think Colin notices. He proceeds to explain what went into the chicken dish and the sauce. This must be his way of trying to make me less tense. And it’s working. I listen with interest while he explains the process.  
    He takes me to the table, and I sit down. Colin lights the candles and dims the overhead lights. He goes back to the kitchen and soon brings two plates with food: honey-colored chunks of chicken with bits of cashews sprinkled over them. The chicken is arranged over small mounds of wild rice. A few pieces of grilled carrots, green and yellow zucchini, and I think sweet potatoes add color to the already mouth-watering display. Hell on wheels, the guy can cook!
    I’m famished. I should have had lunch today, but I got too busy in the office. If I planned better, I could have brought leftovers from home. The wine is already happily dancing in my head. I better slow down.  
    “Go ahead.” Colin sits close to me and points to my plate.  
    “This looks and smells like heaven.” I inhale, closing my eyes for a brief moment.  
    He refills my wine glass. “Let’s hope it tastes as good as it looks.”
    “I honestly have no doubt that it does. But I will let you know,” I say, loading my fork with rice and chicken.  
    The first bite confirms that this is one of the best dinners I’ve had in a while.  
    Colin lifts his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side, as if waiting for me to confess.  
    “Oh, man. This is really amazing,” I talk through a mouthful, covering my mouth with a linen napkin. Yes, he has linen napkins! I mentally scold myself for falling short in the culinary department.  
    “Good.” His lips twitch and he flashes a wicked smile.  
    I drink my wine. Our eyes meet and I can’t look away. His gaze is mesmerizing. Oh, no, I’m in trouble. I fiddle with my fork. My heart is beating way too fast. I notice how his chest muscles strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. His bicep bulges and jumps as he lifts his glass. I have a questionable urge to run my hands over that arm and chest.  
    “Do you like roses?” he asks quietly, nodding to the vase with bouquet of dark-red roses positioned in the middle of the table.  
    “Yes. These are gorgeous.” I stand up and smell them.  
    “I wasn’t sure what flowers you like, and so I thought red roses are usually safe.” He smiles.  
    “Colin, you didn’t need to worry about that. Although I appreciate the thought.”
    He shrugs a little and takes my hand in his. “I wanted to make this evening special.” His voice is low. Seductive?  
    Holy Mother of Sweet Jesus, I’m about to start hyperventilate. Heat stirs in my belly and lazily drenches all the way to my underwear. These bright-blue eyes half-hooded under his lids tell me exactly what’s on his mind. My own mind eagerly nods her approval. I look at his lips and immediately imagine them on mine, on my neck, along my collarbone. Oh, no, that doesn’t help me keep control.  
    He’s so close to me, and then he stands up, pulling me to my feet. “Come.”
    What’s going on? I obey, keeping my eyes on Colin. He smiles and blows out the candles. We walk to the living room, where upbeat salsa music comes out from the stereo.  
    “Do you dance salsa?” He stands in front of me, holding my hands in his.  
    “Some.” I laugh and follow his lead.  
    Colin’s movements are fluid and sensual. He has an excellent sense of rhythm. I can’t stop beaming, while my eyes keep darting to his swaying to the beat hips. Wow, he can cook and he can dance.
    He presses me to him and spins us around twice. I squeal and beseech my feet