My daughters
My dog
Water in all forms
Liberty
Touch
Passion
Leah was surprised to see the last three; they were much more abstract than she would have predicted. Clearly the simple fisherman was much more complex than she had given him credit for. She decided to reply: “No, all of my shoes seem to be accounted for, thank goodness. So I'm sort of surprised to see you on this site... You seemed to have plenty of admirers at the party last month.”
Leah's day was in full swing and she had already forgotten about the response she sent Cap on the dating site. She was quite adept at separating her work and personal life, although lately there had not been much to separate. She was deeply engrossed in a spreadsheet that detailed hours for the housekeeping staff by shift when her office phone buzzed. She knew from the display that it was her assistant calling so she pressed the speaker to answer. “You have someone here to see you, a Chris Sheldon,” her high-pitched squeaky voice eked out.
Instantaneously, her cheeks begin to burn. Oh, why did I send him that message?! she lamented. It's really true that people will say all sorts of things on the internet that they'd never be brave enough to say to someone face-to-face, isn't it? Realizing that regret was unable to take back her semi-snarky words, she inhaled deeply. It was a feeble attempt to calm herself down, but only seemed to inflame her anxiousness. “Send him in,” she replied to her assistant, bolstering herself for a confrontation.
She saw the dimples before anything else. “Well, hello there, Miss Miller,” his smooth but tangy voice projected into her space. He spoke with an eastern shore accent like many locals, which was something like a cross between a British and a southern accent, if there could possibly be such a thing. It was usually subtle, only pronounced on a word or two, but through his exuberance was made somewhat more noticeable that day. He extended to her a small brown paper bag with a wide grin, his pearly whites visibly emerging between his lips.
“What's this?” she asked, her eyebrows elevated. She couldn't imagine what on earth he'd be giving to her and was nearly afraid to look.
“They're doggie treats!” he beamed. “For Glory. A local shop around the corner from me on the boardwalk makes them. She was testing a new recipe and wanted me to pass them out, get some feedback. And, well, you're one person I know with a dog!”
Leah was a little shocked that he'd come sixty-some blocks north just to give her a paper bag full of dog biscuits. “Wow, that's really kind of you, Cap. I'm sure Glory will appreciate them.” She wasn't sure what else to say. His thoughtfulness nearly stung after the sarcastic note she'd sent him earlier in the day.
He was still beaming and nodding. She felt like there must be something else, a further reason for his visit. His dimples were so deep and fixed it was as if they were permanent indents in his cheeks. “Did you get my message?” she finally asked, prepared to hear an earful of defensiveness.
His eyes did a little bug-out with surprise. She nearly giggled as it was the first time she'd seen him caught off guard. “Oh, on the site...”
Nope, now the dimples are gone, just as I feared. And so is the grin. “I hope I didn't offend you,” Leah apologized, recognizing that his lips had curled into a frown. “I was really just teasing.”
“I had forgotten all about the message to be honest. I only read it briefly on my way here. And, actually, Leah,” he said, his voice deep and creased with seriousness, “I would love an opportunity to sit down with you and explain all of that stuff.”
“All what stuff?” Leah played innocent. She wanted to know if he'd drop the S word again so freely, especially now that he was sober.
He cleared his throat and lowered his voice to about half-volume, “You know, the swinging stuff. I think we should talk about it.” His expression was hopeful but his tone betrayed his suspicion that she would not agree to his request.
She decided to hold him in suspense a little while longer. “That dating site is...wow!” she changed the subject. “I knew there was a dearth of eligible bachelors in the area, but I had no idea the pickings were really that slim!” She erupted with a crystalline laugh, the kind of melodic sound she'd wanted to make the last time she'd seen him. I'm not sure where this confidence is coming from, she suddenly thought, looking into his captivated eyes. Aimee said I didn't know how to talk to men but I'm pretty sure I'm proving her wrong!
“I see,” he replied neutrally. He ran his fingers through his blonde-streaked hair which appeared perpetually wind-tousled. He was wearing faded jeans, thick work boots and a flannel jacket with the sleeves rolled up to show his strong, well-defined forearms. She drank in the image of him and suddenly realized that his rugged good looks were more representative of the men back in Wahoo, Nebraska, than any she regularly encountered during her college years or time in her career.
She never thought she'd be the kind of girl who went for the über-masculine type but she undeniably felt something within her body tingling as she basked in his presence. At 5'9” she was a tall woman and although she had an average build, she was far from skinny. She'd always dated slim men around the same height as her. Looking up from her desk at Cap with his hulking, 6'2” frame, she began to imagine how soft and small and feminine she might feel in his arms.
She helplessly stared, unable to divert her gaze, all the while wondering what he thought when he looked at her. Is he seeing some innocent young thing he wants to bed out of curiosity, out of novelty? Or does he see me as a smart, attractive woman who is mature beyond her years, someone he's intrigued by and wants to get to know on multiple levels? I really have no interest in fulfilling his curiosity if his motive is the former. She felt her body stiffen with resolve. She sat up straight in her chair and leaned toward him with her elbows on her desk: “So, I guess I should take you up on that offer for coffee, then?”
His eyes had not wavered from hers; they still had missile lock on her thickly-lashed green orbs. “Coffee,” he said emphatically, one dimple peeping through his beard, “no.”
She shook her head, confused by what had just happened. Did he just say no to me? Is it retribution for me declining his invitation before? What the heck? She cycled through a hundred questions in the split second it took him to explain: “Not coffee. I'm thinking dinner. Come to dinner with me,” he implored.
Her lips spread into a smile, the breadth of which she could not seem to control. “Dinner? Sure, okay, I can do that.”
“Tonight?” Cap pressed.
He is so darn persuasive with those dimples and sincere-looking blue eyes, she thought. God help me. “Okay,” she agreed, against her better judgment.
“I'll pick you up. Seven o'clock.” It was a statement, not a question.
“You can pick me up at seven here, yes,” she confirmed.
His cool assertiveness forcibly gave way to a huge grin, the reaction beyond his control. His face was awash with victory as a single word passed through his parted lips: “Perfect.”
Leah could not remember spending such a vast amount of energy agonizing over her wardrobe options since she'd had her first interview at The Pearl five years prior. “I want something sexy but not sleazy,” she explained to Aimee on the phone as she ransacked her closet searching for the perfect outfit.
“Sleazy?!” Aimee laughed. “Girl, I'm quite sure you don't own one thing anyone would consider sleazy! Can't you just grab a nice black pencil skirt and a sweater that shows a little bit of cleavage and get on with the date?”
Leah was creating a huge pile of rejected clothes on her bedroom floor, the type of unnecessary mess she loathed making. Plus Glory was sniffing and rooting around in it, acting like she needed to go outside yet again. I just took her out fifteen minutes ago and she didn't go, Leah stressed. I don't have time for this tonight! She threw down the skirt and sweater that fulfilled Aimee's somewhat exasperated suggestion and went to grab Glory's leash from the hook beside the front door. “Com
e on, girl,” she seethed, “get on with it!”
“What's your deal?” Aimee chastised her. “Look, I'm sure you're nervous but you're not going to have a good time if you get yourself all worked up into a tizzy about what you wear and about your dog. He doesn't care about any of that. Just wear whatever, go out, have a drink or two, have a good time and BE YOURSELF!”
“Tizzy?” Leah laughed, “What are you, like a grandmother or something? I haven't heard that word since I was a little girl!”
“Oh good, you're laughing, that's a positive sign!” She breathed a fake sigh of relief. “Okay, text me a picture when you get dressed and then call me tomorrow cause I want to know EVERYTHING, got it?!”
“Yes, Grandma,” Leah teased and hung up the phone as she took Glory back down the stairs and into the grass in front of her apartment building to do her business. “Make it snappy!” she ordered the pup, then felt guilty for using such a scornful tone.
She only had twenty minutes from the time she returned upstairs with Glory to get dressed and apply the finishing touches before she went to meet Cap at The Pearl. She didn't ordinarily wear very much makeup, but under the circumstances she thought a little blush and eyeliner might lend her a bit more confidence. She did a once-over from the feet up and then back down again in the full length mirror in the hallway: deep red t-strap heels, a simple straight black skirt that fell just to her knee, and a jade-colored sweater that made her gold-flecked green eyes look more green than ever and revealed the very slightest shadow suggesting cleavage between her breasts. Her strawberry blonde hair was behaving nicely, falling in loose waves around her shoulders and a simple diamond pendant sparkled at her collarbone. You know, I don't look half bad! she thought as she snapped a picture to send to Aimee.
She texted back: “Go get 'em, Tiger!”
Leah stood at the front desk chatting with the night manager Eric while she waited for Cap to arrive. She was a little leery of her staff seeing her leave the building with a man, but...I'm an adult, right? I'm allowed to have friends, she justified the decision to herself.
At seven on the nose she saw Cap's broad-shouldered figure enter the glass doors of The Pearl. He had ditched the flannel and work boots, though, and now donned a pair of well-fitting dark-washed jeans and a simple black button-down shirt with thin blue and white pinstripes. He had trimmed his facial scruff down so that it looked like only a couple of days growth; it was just enough to give his face a silvery-textured sheen. He cordially introduced himself to Eric and was sensitive enough not to make any revealing or embarrassing comments until they were well out of the view of The Pearl's security cameras.
Once they pulled out of the parking lot in his huge, navy-blue extended-cab truck he finally sighed, “Now I can finally tell you how beautiful you look tonight and not get you in trouble at work!” He said it as if it had been killing him to keep it corked up inside his mind.
Leah reached deep into her throat for her voice. “Thank you,” she managed, though she felt her cheeks turning scarlet and was glad the lighting was dim in the cab of the truck. “And you look very handsome yourself” she assured him. I think that was alright to say? she second-guessed herself. Okay, maybe Aimee is right, I am woefully out of practice with this dating stuff. She breathed in and out, centering herself and urging her body to calm down, but she noticed her fingers were trembling slightly in the dark.
“So we're going to this great little place at the marina in West OC. Of course it's much better when it's summer and you can sit outside on the water, but it will still be pretty nice, I promise,” he said as they made their way toward the inlet and over the bridge. It had been awhile since Leah had been on the mainland. I clearly need to get out more, Leah thought, shaking her head. Her little world was her apartment, The Pearl, and church, and they were all within a ten block radius. Even her grocery store. And the gym, if I ever actually join one, she thought, placing a mental sticky-note inside her brain that said something like: if you're going to date, you should really start working out.
Cap parked the truck and Leah carefully climbed down, putting one heeled foot on the ground while she swung her other off the seat and desperately fought to maintain her balance as she scribbled down another mental sticky note. Note to self: do not get drunk. Otherwise he'll have to hoist me into the truck to get me back home! Fortunately Cap failed to notice her ungraceful movement, even though he had sped around the back of the truck to try to open the door for her before she disembarked.
“Oh, sorry,” she apologized with a little nervous giggle. “I didn't realize you were coming to help me!” At least I can laugh at myself! she thought. That's an attractive quality, right?
“I'm glad you have long legs!” he commented. “I've discovered that most ladies can't handle it.” He winked at her and she began to wonder if that was actually a veiled reference to something else.
She followed him inside the restaurant and it was like a scene straight out of Cheers, only instead of a collective roar of “Norm!” raised by the crowd, it was “Cap!” He gave the hostess a peck on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. Leah stood with all her weight on one foot, trying to project a demure confidence despite feeling like she was on display. I wonder just how often he brings dates here, she thought, even though she had promised herself she wasn't going to preoccupy her mind with those sorts of ideas.
She felt a dozen or so pairs of eyes boring into her as she followed Cap and the hostess down a hallway and then an aisle that led to a room with huge glass windows on three sides. As they sat down, Leah noticed that they had a perfect view of the water from their corner table and she could see the purple dusk hovering over the glassy ripples and the marina lights reflecting from their silver towers.
Cap pulled out the chair for her and she eased herself into it. Then she tightly gripped the menu as if it doing so would help keep her focused and under control. The waitress was polite but familiar with her date, and Leah couldn't help but wonder if that familiarity was a result of having been intimate with him. I think that's going to be my main problem with this swinger thing, she recognized. I'm going to think he's had every woman in town, and if he hasn't, then he probably wants to.
She tried to rid her mind of that negativity because she knew it was going to put a serious damper on her enjoyment of the evening, but she was feeling quite challenged. What would Aimee tell me to do? she wondered. That's right, she'd tell me to order a drink, relax and have fun. And I'm supposed to have a drink for her anyway.
“So, Miss Leah Miller,” Cap said, opening his menu and peering up at her over its pages with his engaging eyes. In the flickering candlelight, they appeared dark but inviting, like if she looked deeply enough she may unlock all of their secrets.
“Yes?” she said softly, her voice like silk.
“What's your poison, babe? You don't strike me as a beer drinker. Wine?” he guessed.
“Wine is fine,” Leah answered and then snickered at her unintentional rhyme. “I like fruity, girly drinks too.”
“I bet you do. Like a Crush probably...,” his voice trailed off as his eyes delved back into her, searching for the keys to unlock her own mysteries.
She stared at him blankly, unsure if “crush” was a reference to her tingly, blush-worthy feelings for him, the ones she knew she was incapable of hiding from him. Some men were completely oblivious to the interests of the fairer sex. Captain Chris Sheldon was not one of those men.
“Oh, it's a drink!” he explained, recognizing her bewilderment. “It's an OC Crush, an orange drink. You'll love it, I promise. Or I could get you a nice glass of wine instead.”
Oh, right, she remembered. It was a local favorite. See, I am a lousy bartender. Should have known that one. “Either is fine,” she assured him. “Or both.” She leaned forward just enough so that he had a clear view of the top of her pale, ivory breasts jutting out from her black push-up bra. “You know, I am probably a lot more suggestible when I have a little alcohol
in me.”
“Probably?” he laughed. “I'm willing to bet without hesitation that you are MUCH more suggestible when you're liquored up! And clearly you trust me not to take advantage of you if you want both.” He winked.
“Haven't you ever wanted your cake and eat it too?” she asked, the confidence she'd had earlier that day in her office suddenly washing over her again.
“All the time,” he replied in a soft, deep voice. “All the time.”
There was never a lull in the conversation. Leah felt like she would be hearing bits and pieces of it echo throughout her mind for days and possibly weeks following their evening together. Despite her preconceptions, Chris Sheldon was a gentleman: an intelligent, educated, sophisticated gentleman. He was certainly not what she was expecting from a born-and-bred Ocean City native who grew up the son of a charter fisherman. He'd gone away to college, his only time living away from the Eastern shore, earning a degree in business administration, so they truly had more in common than she could have ever imagined.
He was a savvy entrepreneur as well, always looking to diversify his business and for new commercial ventures to explore. He had a stake in a seasonal bar/restaurant on the boardwalk and told her that with Casey Fontaine's help, he was hunting for a warehouse to start a new enterprise. He shared that he had two grown daughters, Emma and Ashton, both of whom had grown up and moved to the “western” shore as it was sometimes called, one in college at the University of Maryland and one married and living in Frederick, Maryland. No grandchildren, yet.
For her turn, Leah revealed that she was the oldest of three children, the daughter of a minister and music teacher who still lived in her tiny hometown of Wahoo, Nebraska. She mentioned her time at Cornell, her best friend Aimee who was about to give birth, and even – briefly and without much detail – her wild year of torrid affairs.
Fisher of Men Page 7
