Nancy sat back in her chair after he left, staring at the empty doorway. The scent of his cologne still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the sterile tang of antiseptic. She tried to focus on her paperwork, but her mind betrayed her again and again. His smile. His words. That audacity in his eyes that shouldn’t have made her heart flutter, but did.

  “Just one dinner,” she whispered. “It doesn’t mean anything.” But deep down, she knew she was lying to herself. Something had begun, something unpredictable, perhaps even forbidden. And by the time she realized it, she was already too deep to turn back.

  Meanwhile, Nathan drove away from the hospital, the city lights reflecting on his windshield. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he replayed every second of their exchange. He’d studied countless criminals, interrogated, deceived, cornered them. But this woman? She was different. She was both mystery and melody. Every word she spoke was measured, yet sincere. Every glance hinted at a story untold.

  Nathan frowned slightly, forcing himself to remember the mission. She’s a suspect. A potential assassin. Nothing more. But as the night deepened, and the memory of her smile returned, even his hardened mind betrayed him. He chuckled under his breath. “Sunday, six p.m.”

  Then, almost involuntarily, he whispered to the empty car: “I’ll be there.”

  Sunday came in a rush, like a long-awaited storm finally breaking through the clouds. Nathan had spent the entire week preparing for this moment, obsessing over every detail. He told himself repeatedly that it was part of the mission, that this date was only a means to get closer and extract the truth from Doctor Nancy Oakham. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just about the job anymore. It was about her; the woman whose smile had begun haunting his thoughts and invading his sleep.

  Nathan stood before his mirror, adjusting the silk collar of his suit for the umpteenth time. The navy-blue jacket hugged his shoulders perfectly, and his tie gleamed like a quiet stream under sunlight. He combed his hair until every strand stood in disciplined order, then dabbed a fine blend of vanilla and blueberry cologne across his neck. The scent rose like a whisper of temptation. He smirked at his reflection. “Tonight,” he murmured, “Nancy Oakham won’t be able to resist me, even if she’s the coldest criminal alive.”

  He grabbed his car keys, slipped on his wristwatch, and left his apartment with the confidence of a man walking into destiny. The drive to Westlake Street was calm, the air alive with the scent of rain-kissed earth and night jasmine. The city lights shimmered against the car’s glass, mirroring Nathan’s growing anticipation. Every beat of his heart sounded like the ticking of a bomb about to go off, only this time, the explosion would be emotional, not physical.

  He parked in front of a modest but elegant house with a cream-colored gate and neat hedges. The porch light flickered softly, bathing the front door in golden hue. Nathan walked up, inhaled deeply, and knocked. From inside came a voice; gentle, curious. “Who’s there?”

  “Mister Coleman, my lady,” he replied, letting a smile curve across his lips. “I am here to serve you.” There was a brief silence. Then her voice, slightly amused, echoed again, “How did you even find my address? I never gave it to you.” Nathan chuckled, his voice smooth as honey. “Angels are beautified and said to be made out of light, and light cannot be hidden, can it?”

  The silence that followed was longer this time. Nathan could almost hear the sound of her heart deciding whether to be cautious or curious. Finally, after two long minutes, the door clicked open.

  Nancy stood there, framed by the soft glow of the porch light, and for a moment Nathan forgot how to breathe. She wore a pink gown that shimmered faintly, hugging her shape like it was made for her alone. A thin chain of silver rested across her collarbone, and small pearl earrings caught the light when she moved. Her hair fell in dark waves over her shoulders, and her lips; painted a delicate shade of rose, parted into a smile that hit Nathan like a bullet to the chest. His mind stuttered. What am I seeing? he thought, half-aloud.

  Nancy tilted her head, amusement curling on her lips. “What?”

  “Daffodils,” he said before he could stop himself. She frowned slightly. “Daffodils?”

  “You blossom like them,” he said softly, “beautiful and impossible to ignore.” Her cheeks colored faintly, but she hid it behind a knowing smile. “Are you just going to stand there, poet? Or are we leaving?”

  “Oh yes,” Nathan said quickly, stepping aside. He offered her his hand like a gentleman from an old movie, and she took it with a touch that sent electricity down his arm. He opened the car door for her, and she slid into the passenger seat gracefully. As he circled around and got in, he caught a faint whiff of her perfume; lilac and citrus, clean but intoxicating.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  They drove through the glowing city streets to a quiet restaurant tucked beside the lake. It was a place Nathan had chosen carefully; luxurious enough to impress, but private enough for conversation. Inside, the lighting was dim, with candles dancing in glass holders, and the faint hum of a jazz band playing near the bar. Nancy looked around, a small smile playing at her lips. “You have good taste, Mister Coleman.”

  “I try my best,” Nathan replied, guiding her to their table by the window. The view was perfect, the lake rippled gently under the moonlight, its reflection mirroring the stars. As they sat, their eyes met again. For a moment, the air between them thickened. Nathan felt that dangerous pull; the kind that draws a man into deep waters where logic can’t reach. Nancy broke the silence first. “Tell me,” she said, leaning slightly forward, “where did you learn to flirt with women this shamelessly?”

  Nathan chuckled. “I will tell you but first tell me, where did you learn to charm men and enslave their hearts?” Her eyebrows arched. “Are you enslaved already?”

  “Completely,” he said without hesitation. “From the very first day I set my eyes on you, I lost my freedom.” The words landed between them like a secret confession. Nancy looked away, her fingers brushing the edge of her wine glass. For a moment, the confident doctor seemed like a shy girl struggling to mask her smile. She cleared her throat. “You say such things so easily, Mister Coleman.”

  “Only when I mean them,” he replied smoothly. Nancy studied him, the way his eyes held hers, steady and unblinking; the quiet assurance in his tone. Part of her wanted to believe every word. But another part, the one that holds ambition and deepest burning, whispered he’s too smooth to be real.

  “What do you want from me, really?” she asked finally, her voice softer but edged with curiosity. Nathan’s answer came without pause. “You.” She blinked. “Me?” He nodded. “Everything about you. Your laugh, your silence, your mystery. I’d give anything to have this beautiful daffodil before me, planted forever in my home.”

  Nancy exhaled slowly, her pulse racing despite herself. He’s dangerous, she thought. Not just because he’s clever, but because he feels too genuine. She met his gaze squarely. “The price of having me,” she said, her tone dropping into something darker, “is not as simple as you think.”

  Nathan’s heart skipped. For a fleeting second, the warmth between them flickered into suspicion. Was that just flirtation, or a warning? He couldn’t tell. His instincts screamed that there was something beneath her calm, a layer she carefully hid. Maybe guilt. Maybe pain. Maybe both. But Nathan wasn’t the kind of man to back down. He leaned closer, the candlelight catching in his eyes. “Try me,” he whispered.

  For a long moment, Nancy said nothing. The silence stretched, filled only by the faint jazz tune and the rhythm of their breaths. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a half-smile, one that was equal parts challenge and invitation. “Be careful what you wish for, Mister Coleman,” she said softly, her eyes locking with his. “You might just get it.”

  Nathan smiled in return, though his pulse was racing. The air felt heavier now, charged with both danger and desire. Somewhere in his chest, duty clashed with longing. He could almost hear the voice of his captain warning him not to get personal with suspects, not to let emotions cloud judgment. But it was too late. Nancy Oakham wasn’t just another suspect anymore. She was a mystery he wanted to solve, not for justice, but for something far more personal. He raised his glass of wine. “To dangerous wishes,” he said.

  She clinked her glass against his, eyes never leaving his. “And the fools who make them.”

  The sound of crystal meeting crystal was soft, but the echo lingered like a promise neither of them could take back. And though Nathan smiled, somewhere deep within him, a voice whispered, You’re already in too deep.

  They ended the dinner, both smiling as Nathan drove her home. The car hummed softly beneath them, the city lights painting flashes of gold and blue across Nancy’s face. Nathan’s eyes kept wandering toward her, to her lips, to the quiet grace in the way she looked out the window. She noticed.

  “Concentrate on the steering,” she said, suppressing a smile. “Do not kill the both of us.” Nathan chuckled, glancing at her again before fixing his eyes on the road. “I’m sorry, Angel,” he said, his tone a careful blend of playfulness and sincerity. “I can’t just help it.” Nancy looked away, but a faint blush touched her cheeks. She hated how easily he could make her heart race. She had always been composed, the kind of woman who measured every move, who drew lines no one could cross. Yet, sitting beside Andrew Coleman, those lines blurred. She wanted more, she wanted his touch. She wanted to kiss him and lie on top of him. She chuckled, that desire was almost an abomination for her.

  Her lips curved into a teasing smile. “If I were food,” she said, almost whispering, “would you desire to eat me?”

  Nathan smirked, his eyes flicking briefly toward her. “If you were a dish,” he said smoothly, “I’d prepare and eat you at every meal.” Nancy laughed, soft and genuine, a sound Nathan knew he’d never forget. But she quickly quieted, pressing her fingers to her lips as if to hold back the next question.

  “Why did you ask?” Nathan asked, curious.

  “Never mind,” she said quickly. “I was just curious.”

  Nathan’s gaze lingered on her, trying to read the layers behind her calm expression, but the moment passed, and the car rolled to a stop in front of her house. Nancy unbuckled her seatbelt, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you, Mister Coleman,” she said, her voice polite but distant again. “I had a lovely evening.” Nathan frowned slightly. That’s it? “You won’t even invite me in?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes probing.

  “No,” she replied bluntly, her hand already on the car door. He tilted his head. “Why not?” She turned back, meeting his gaze evenly. “First, because you’re still a stranger,” she said. “Second, because you’re my patient.”

  Nathan leaned back, pretending to be hurt. “Come on, you cleared me of all symptoms. I’m no longer your patient.” Nancy smiled faintly, almost amused. “Goodnight, Mister Coleman.” Then she stepped out, closing the door gently behind her and walking toward her porch without looking back. Nathan exhaled sharply, gripping the steering wheel. “Damn.”

  He’d been hoping for an invitation inside, not only for the pleasure of it, but because he needed a reason to inspect her house, to confirm his growing suspicions. He had planned to observe, to gather clues quietly. But now, she had closed the door both literally and figuratively.

  “I’ll try again,” he muttered, tapping the wheel. His eyes followed her silhouette as she reached her front door, unlocked it, and disappeared inside. Inside her room, Nancy leaned against the wall, her heart racing. She pressed a hand to her chest and let out a shaky breath. His scent; that soft vanilla and blueberry, still lingered in her mind. “Come on, girl,” she whispered to herself. “You’re not in Vexmoor for love. You do not even know him.”

  But the more she told herself that, the less convincing it sounded. She moved to the window, parting the curtain slightly. Nathan was still there, parked on the curb, head bowed on the steering. She could almost feel his frustration, and for a fleeting second, she wanted to go back out. To tell him she’d changed her mind. To invite him in.

  Instead, she turned away, switched off the lights, and let the darkness swallow her confusion.