same black cocktail dress I’d worn to the chamber of commerce event. I hesitated to wear it again, but when I held it up and turned around, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Perfect!” he announced.
So I brushed my hair, fixed my makeup, and slipped on some heels. When we got out to the parking lot, and saw the pastry box sitting on the trunk of my car, we laughed and took bets on whether it would be there when we got back.
He slipped his arm around me as we entered the restaurant, and the warmth his touch lent me encouraged me to stand a little taller. To act like maybe I wasn’t such a misfit after all. Shockingly, not one person gave me a second glance. I started to feel like a regular lady.
Chef Hottie ordered from the menu in French, poured the wine liberally before, during, and after the meal, and didn’t even glance at the check before handing over his credit card. The whole time, he gazed at…me. He laughed with me. Joked with me. Snorted over stupid French names for things with me. And his hands rarely left my body. He ate with one hand on my thigh, sneaking its way under the hem of my dress. When I crossed my legs to avoid embarrassing myself, he nipped at my earlobe. Needless to say, I ate with gusto, and the food tasted fabulous.
When we got back to my apartment, I had a sudden moment of panic this would be the end. That I’d somehow failed a vital, secret girlfriend ability test and this was his final parting gift. That this was his good-bye. Again. See ya . I hovered outside his vehicle in an effort to delay the inevitable. The cake box was still on my car, which made me wonder what kind of neighborhood I lived in. Who’d leave free pastry untouched?
“Hey.” His fingers stroked from my shoulder, which was growing cold in the night air, down to my hand. “What’s the matter?”
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the meal or the sex or all the attention. But fear of making an ass of myself had me swallowing back the words threatening to spring from between my lips. So I shoved my needs to the back burner. “I…um….”
Max glanced at the box, frowned, stepped closer, tilted my chin up, and locked his gaze with my eyes. “Still hungry little one? Shall we go upstairs and take care of that for you?”
Damn . Tears sprang to my eyes and my lip trembled. So much for hiding my emotions.
He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “Shhh, my little cream puff. It’s all right. I’m here.”
His hands rubbed my back, attempting to lull me into a false sense of ease. That pastry box started to look real good. But I forced myself to be a big girl and get back to the matter at hand. “But….” I sniveled against his chest. “You left last time….” I choked on my own spit as soon as I said it. Yeah, that didn’t sound whiny. Uh-huh. Good one, Vi.
His arms pushed me back. That didn’t take long. Here’s the good-bye. Bye-bye, sexy chef. Bye-bye cream puffs. But he looked down at me with concern in his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. His expression filled with regret or maybe guilt. “I know I did. And I’m sorry.”
Say what ? I blinked.
“I got a last-minute call and had to go. My son was on leave and only in Ritzville for a few days.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t know if you were…ready to meet him.”
I blinked the tears out of my eyes. “You have a son?”
He nodded and caressed my arms. “Are you still mad at me for leaving?”
I shook my head, feeling foolish for thinking it was all my fault. “No, but why didn’t you tell me?”
A huge sigh left his mouth. His head tilted from side to side, as if considering his words carefully. “After that first time, you seemed so…skittish. I figured if I told you too much about me too soon, you’d run away.”
Gawd. Did I always act that insecure? I mentally banished my mother’s demons from my mind, and purged her words from my heart. Her opinions could go suck an egg. I’d nearly lost a
So I brushed my hair, fixed my makeup, and slipped on some heels. When we got out to the parking lot, and saw the pastry box sitting on the trunk of my car, we laughed and took bets on whether it would be there when we got back.
He slipped his arm around me as we entered the restaurant, and the warmth his touch lent me encouraged me to stand a little taller. To act like maybe I wasn’t such a misfit after all. Shockingly, not one person gave me a second glance. I started to feel like a regular lady.
Chef Hottie ordered from the menu in French, poured the wine liberally before, during, and after the meal, and didn’t even glance at the check before handing over his credit card. The whole time, he gazed at…me. He laughed with me. Joked with me. Snorted over stupid French names for things with me. And his hands rarely left my body. He ate with one hand on my thigh, sneaking its way under the hem of my dress. When I crossed my legs to avoid embarrassing myself, he nipped at my earlobe. Needless to say, I ate with gusto, and the food tasted fabulous.
When we got back to my apartment, I had a sudden moment of panic this would be the end. That I’d somehow failed a vital, secret girlfriend ability test and this was his final parting gift. That this was his good-bye. Again. See ya . I hovered outside his vehicle in an effort to delay the inevitable. The cake box was still on my car, which made me wonder what kind of neighborhood I lived in. Who’d leave free pastry untouched?
“Hey.” His fingers stroked from my shoulder, which was growing cold in the night air, down to my hand. “What’s the matter?”
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the meal or the sex or all the attention. But fear of making an ass of myself had me swallowing back the words threatening to spring from between my lips. So I shoved my needs to the back burner. “I…um….”
Max glanced at the box, frowned, stepped closer, tilted my chin up, and locked his gaze with my eyes. “Still hungry little one? Shall we go upstairs and take care of that for you?”
Damn . Tears sprang to my eyes and my lip trembled. So much for hiding my emotions.
He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “Shhh, my little cream puff. It’s all right. I’m here.”
His hands rubbed my back, attempting to lull me into a false sense of ease. That pastry box started to look real good. But I forced myself to be a big girl and get back to the matter at hand. “But….” I sniveled against his chest. “You left last time….” I choked on my own spit as soon as I said it. Yeah, that didn’t sound whiny. Uh-huh. Good one, Vi.
His arms pushed me back. That didn’t take long. Here’s the good-bye. Bye-bye, sexy chef. Bye-bye cream puffs. But he looked down at me with concern in his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. His expression filled with regret or maybe guilt. “I know I did. And I’m sorry.”
Say what ? I blinked.
“I got a last-minute call and had to go. My son was on leave and only in Ritzville for a few days.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t know if you were…ready to meet him.”
I blinked the tears out of my eyes. “You have a son?”
He nodded and caressed my arms. “Are you still mad at me for leaving?”
I shook my head, feeling foolish for thinking it was all my fault. “No, but why didn’t you tell me?”
A huge sigh left his mouth. His head tilted from side to side, as if considering his words carefully. “After that first time, you seemed so…skittish. I figured if I told you too much about me too soon, you’d run away.”
Gawd. Did I always act that insecure? I mentally banished my mother’s demons from my mind, and purged her words from my heart. Her opinions could go suck an egg. I’d nearly lost a
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