Troy studied her as she moved with easy grace down the street, navigating through the crowds of people and traffic signals as if she could do it blind.

She cupped her hands and raised them to her mouth to blow warm air inside, then rubbed them together vigorously to ward off the cold. Acting on impulse, he reached over and took her hands. He brought them to his mouth and huffed warm air onto her fingers, then pressed them flat between his bigger hands to heat them. Ruby observed his actions warily. “It’s only one more block.”

He nodded. “So, tell me. What is it with New Yorkers and their smug superiority about pizza?”

“Hmm. Besides the fact that it’s totally justified?”

The light turned green, and she quickly pulled her hand away to cross the street. “Besides, aren’t you Chicago folk equally narcissistic about your deep-dish pizza?”

“We prefer the term outspokenly confident,” he quipped. “And what’s not to like about deep dish? It’s just more of the good stuff.”

“There’s no subtlety. You should always leave them wanting more.”

“I can’t relate to that,” he said drily, slanting a look in her direction.

She ducked her head and laughed. “I thought you said your mother is a chef. She looks like she can make a good sauce. Did she ever make you pizza?”

It took him a second to remember that she’d seen the picture of his parents while going through his wallet at O’Hanlon’s. “How does someone look like they make good sauce?”

“You know…” Ruby shrugged. “She’s bosomy.”

“Bosomy?”

She made a noise of agreement. “Women who make good sauce are almost always generous upstairs. It’s like a rule or something. Ask anyone.”

“You thought it was a good idea to bring up my mother’s bosoms before we ate?”

They reached the pizza shop, and she waited while he opened the door for her. “I’m right, aren’t I? How is her sauce?”

He answered without hesitation. “The best in Chicago.”

She slipped past him into the shop, not even bothering to hide her triumphant smile. Troy looked around at the small establishment boasting a glass counter displaying several types of pies. Behind it, a handful of workers slid pizzas in and out of an enormous stainless-steel oven. Farther down toward the back, a dozen orange, plastic booths were half occupied with a variety of people. Businessmen in suits, high school kids, even a priest. From an unseen speaker, mariachi music blared, blending all the noise together.

“Speaking of my bosomy mother, she would give me hell if she knew I’d brought a girl out for a slice of pizza on a first date.”

“Ah, but it’s our second date,” she corrected him.

He leaned in next to her ear to inhale her scent.

“No. Friday night was more like a fourth date. We sort of skipped the first three and got right to the best part, didn’t we?”

“You could say that.” She leaned in toward his mouth, and he barely resisted taking her earlobe between his teeth and tugging. “Does that mean we’re going to wait three dates before we get back to the best part?”

“No, baby. It doesn’t,” he murmured, satisfied when Ruby shivered in response.

When they reached the front of the line, Ruby placed her order for a cheese slice to the aproned man behind the counter, then looked at Troy expectantly for his order, a heightened awareness of him clear in her expression.

“You choose. When I tell you it tastes like plain old pizza, I’m not going to listen to you complain that I must have chosen the wrong slice.”

“He’s just touchy because we were talking about his mom’s bosoms,” she said with a conspiratorial wink at the man in the apron. “He’ll have a cheese slice, too, please. Followed by a slice of humble pie.”

“As long as it’s deep dish.”

“Quiet. You’re going to offend the pizza gods.”

Troy grinned. As he paid for their meal, it occurred to him that he was actually enjoying himself. And how long had it been since he could truly say that?

…

Ruby watched from across the table as Troy took his first bite of pizza. Somehow he managed to make the mundane look sensual, sinking his teeth in for a bite, ripping it off, and chewing slowly as the muscles in his throat and jaw worked. Her own slice sat forgotten on a greasy paper plate in front of her, getting colder by the second. She ran her damp palms up the thighs of her jeans and leaned forward for a sip of Sprite without taking her eyes off him.

“Well? What do you think?”

He leaned back in the creaking booth and considered her. “All right, you win. This is the Holy Grail of pizza. The sauce…”

Ruby tilted her head and smiled. “Is it better than your mother’s?”

Troy gestured at her with a napkin. “You will never get me to say that out loud.”

Eyebrows raised, she looked around the shop.

“How would she know?”

“I have no idea, but she would. Trust me. It would be like a pizza-shaped bat signal flashing over my parents’ house.”

“You better stay quiet then,” she said with mock-seriousness. “What kind of signal would flash if she knew you were out with a girl you met hustling in a bar?”

Shrugging, he took a sip out of her drink, and

Ruby’s stomach clenched at the intimacy of that.

“Honestly? She’d probably just want to know if you were Italian.”

She pinched her fingers together. “A little bit.

Enough to appreciate her sauce.” Outwardly, she cringed at her impulsive comment. “Oh, God. I didn’t mean that to sound weird. I’m not planning on trying your mother’s sauce or anything.” Sighing dramatically, she squeezed her eyes closed. “When I open my eyes, if you’re gone, I won’t hold it against you.”

When she peeked open one eyelid, he sat smirking at her from across the table. After a second, he leaned forward and picked up her hand. With his thumb, he massaged small circles into her palm, and Ruby could feel the tiny movement everywhere on her body. “If my mother were here, she would say you’re too skinny to leave that whole slice of pizza sitting in front of you on the table.”

She swallowed with difficulty. “Maybe I’m not hungry anymore.”

“You need to eat.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

“You might not get another chance for a while, so take advantage now.”

Ruby’s senses fired, her body practically liquefying in the hard, plastic seat. Underneath the table, she teased his pant leg with her foot. “Take advantage of the pizza now so you can take advantage of me later?”

His lips twitched. “Are you playing footsie with me?”

Next to them, the priest cleared his throat loudly before exiting his booth and tossing his garbage in the trash with a righteous sniff in their direction.

They both ducked their heads and laughed. Biting her lip, Ruby edged her foot slightly higher, rubbing the inside of his knee. “Is footsie not cool anymore? I didn’t get the memo.”

“Oh, it’s feeling pretty cool right about now.” His expression heated. “Any way I can convince you to take that pizza to go?”

Every pulse point in her body beat loud and fast.

“So impatient.”

“I did warn you.”