by C. M. Albert
IT WAS ONE when Zade stirred, sunlight a chipper asshole that he didn’t need waking him up. He stood up, groggy, and pulled his bedroom drapes closed before padding back to bed. Dr. Hill was doing rounds today, checking on the woman who’d survived the car accident from yesterday. There’d only been one person—one fucking lucky person from two cars.
Zade picked up his phone from the nightstand, scrolling through messages from his nurse and sister, both of whom were at the hospital this afternoon. Damn. He’d lost most of his day, and his mind was completely wasted after last night. He hadn’t had a chance to prepare for his first date with Rosalie, and he’d wanted to make it special, especially since Mitch told him she didn’t have a lot of experience dating. He’d also warned him a second time not to screw her over when he gave Zade her number.
Zade had no intention of ever doing that. He had a feeling he’d be wooing her for the long haul. But first they needed to spend some more alone time together. Without Brecken breathing down his neck or catching wind of it. Small towns had a way of talking.
He had the perfect idea, especially given his current mood—a romantic night in.
Zade: Hey. You busy?
Rosalie: Who is this?
Zade: A thief.
Rosalie: Why is a thief texting me?
Zade: Because I’m that determined to steal your heart.
Rosalie: Oh, hey, Zade!
He laughed. Guess she had his MO pegged already. The odd thing was he never did this with any other woman. Something about Rosalie brought out the hopeful romantic in him. Humor was his way of softening the blows he was taking to his heart as it sank a little deeper every time they spoke.
Rosalie: Everything go ok yesterday? LuLu rushed out right after you.
Zade: No. Worst night in a long time.
Rosalie: Sorry. Can I do anything to help?
Zade: You can call the cops.
Rosalie: What? Why?
Zade: Because the way you make me feel has to be illegal.
Rosalie: . . .
Zade: Come on . . . it was a little funny.
Rosalie: . . .
Zade: Tough crowd.
Zade: Still up for our date? Might not be great company, but I want to see you.
Rosalie: Sell it, doctor.
Zade: . . .
Rosalie: Wait! Did I finally leave you speechless?
Zade: You leave me speechless every time I see you, Rosalie.
Rosalie: That’s more like it.
Zade: Don’t want to let down my fan club.
Rosalie: Who said I joined your fan club?
Zade: Would you start one, at least?
Rosalie: We’ll see. Depends on how tonight goes.
Zade: Fair point.
Rosalie: Where do you want to meet?
Zade: I’ll come get you at 7. Not having you meet me somewhere. It’s a proper date.
Rosalie: . . .
Zade: Just text your address & I’ll be there at 7 with bells on.
Rosalie: I’m gonna hold you to it.
Zade: :)
Zade: Hey, do you happen to know if there’s an airport nearby?
Rosalie: Why?
Zade: I feel my heart taking off.
Rosalie: *rolls eyes*
Zade: Lol. See you at 7.
That had to be a record for Zade. He never texted that much with anyone. Ever. He couldn’t wait for their low-key night in. He would cook for her—maybe impress her with his skills in the kitchen. Then they could snuggle up on the couch and watch a movie or talk. It would be the perfect night with the perfect woman.
But first . . . coffee.
HE WAS RIGHT on time, Rosalie a little embarrassed by the modest, ranch-styled home she and Brecken lived in. They couldn’t afford bigger, and it held all their best childhood memories together. Rosalie suspected she’d only move out when one of them got serious with a significant other. So far, neither had been too successful in that arena. Brecken certainly entertained more often though. And the walls were way too thin for Rosalie’s liking. She’d often put on her headphones and crank up the music, painting the night away. Art was her outlet—the thing that kept her sane all these years. She had stacks and stacks of watercolors in the old detached garage, all wrapped with cardboard and bubble wrap to preserve them. Not that she planned on doing anything with them. But they were a part of her past—even if that past had been painful and somewhat isolating.
She grinned when Zade got out of his car—sexy by Arden’s Glen standards. She whistled low, causing him to laugh.
He whistled back at Rosalie, her cheeks flushing as she walked down the concrete front steps of her porch. She wasn’t sure where they were going, so she’d kept it casual. She knew her khaki-colored, wide-legged gauchos clung to her hips in all the right ways, the high black espadrille sandals making her legs look longer, leaner. Her fitted white T-shirt with white lace trim around the low neckline and tiny cap sleeves brought a flirty look to her outfit while highlighting her naturally tan skin. At least, that’s what Dez told her when she came over to help her pick out an outfit for her date with Zade. She was finally realizing the fun of having girlfriends.
He said nothing as he looked up at her, and it made Rosalie fidget, adjusting the wide sash on her pants with her busy fingers. Was this a stupid choice, after all? Maybe she shouldn’t have listened to Dez. “What? Say something!”
“Did it hurt?” he whispered, holding his hand out to her.
“Did what hurt?” she asked, tucking her clutch under her arm and taking his hand. He helped her down their steep embankment to where his royal blue convertible sat in the driveway, a stark contrast to the rusted handrails on her front porch.
“When you fell from heaven?”
She swatted his chest, her hand stilling when she felt the flat, hard planes beneath his black cotton T-shirt. Every muscle in her body froze. She couldn’t take a step and she couldn’t look up at him. Her skin tingled as she touched his shirt, the cotton doing nothing to prevent her imagination from envisioning what he looked like beneath the soft fabric. How his muscles would form their way down the ridge of his torso. Did he have a V where his hips met the muscles from his stomach? Dear God, she was practically panting.
She took a step back, but he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, lifting her chin to look up at him. “Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?” she asked, waiting for another silly comeback.
“Don’t pull away like that,” he said huskily. “I like the way you feel against me.”
He brushed his lips over her forehead, wrapping her in a hug so protective she wanted to curl up and hide there forever. She’d never really had a man hold her so gently—especially in the absence of sex. Sex she understood. Intimacy, she did not. It felt nice, but it also made her a little antsy.
He pulled back, brushing her hair from her forehead. “You look stunning,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. She wondered what he saw there, because what she saw in his eyes was something that confused Rosalie, considering how little they really knew each other.
“Why do you look at me like that?” she whispered.
“Like what?”
“Like you could devour me. Like you want to swallow me whole,” she said, unsure.
“Because I do. I can’t get enough of you, Rosalie. Which is why I’m so glad you agreed to a date tonight. I didn’t think you would.”
Rosalie laughed, shaking her head. “I probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t caught me so off guard.”
Zade’s lips curled into a sexy half-grin. “Glad something good came from it then. Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s get going.”
He opened the door of his car for her, though she almost couldn’t call it just a car with a straight face. His roadster convertible was a well-maintained work of art. She ran her hand along the tan leather interior, half expecting him to pull on a pair of driver’s gloves—though she’d never let him live it down i
f he did.
“This is gorgeous,” she said, finding the car even more handsome when he slid into the driver’s seat. It was a manual transmission, and she found it sexy when the car purred to life, causing her insides to purr along with it. “What year is it?”
“Sixty Six,” he said, looking over his shoulder as he backed down their long driveway. God what she wouldn’t do to slide over and straddle Zade, bringing her mouth to his. She’d had fantasies of kissing him since the first day they met, despite her conflicting desire to also keep him at arm’s length. She would be good tonight and not cross that line, especially since she didn’t know what her future looked like with the job offer hanging in the balance.
They hadn’t even made it to the street when Brecken roared into the driveway on his motorcycle, his tire burning a line on the faded concrete as he skidded to a halt. He pulled off his helmet as he idled next to Rosalie’s door, not looking at her but over her head at Zade.
“I thought I told you to stay away from her, doctor,” he snarled.
“I let Rosalie make that choice,” Zade answered coolly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us,” he said, revving the engine.
“A fucking vintage Ferrari Spider, Zade? This thing costs more than our house, Rosalie,” he warned, putting his hand on the passenger side of the car. “I don’t know what his game is, sis, but he’s too fucking old—even for you.”
Rosalie looked over at Zade, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he gripped the stick shift and glared at her brother. She could tell it took everything for him to be respectful in that moment. And she didn’t take too kindly to being told what to do. “Brecken—back off. I mean it. It’s just a date. I’m not marrying the guy.”
Brecken growled but conceded, taking his hand off the car. He looked at Zade, a dangerous look making his slate eyes even darker. “This isn’t over yet, Zampogna. We’ll be talking. Soon.” Brecken roared off down the driveway, leaving Zade and Rosalie sitting in silence.
She glanced out of the corner of her eyes at Zade, their gazes meeting. They burst out laughing, the kind that hurt Rosalie’s belly in a good way. “Oh my God,” she wheezed. “I’m so sorry my brother’s such a douchenozzle. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“A douchenozzle?” Zade said, sliding the car back into gear. “Remind me not to piss you off,” he teased. “Seriously though, he’s your older brother. He’s just being protective. I used to be the same way with Zada.”
“What changed?” she asked.
Zade paused, as if hesitant to answer.
“What?” Rosalie demanded.
“Nothing. It was just time. She grew up on me. She doesn’t appreciate my help as much in that arena anymore,” he admitted. “She’s only a year younger than I am—what they used to call ‘Irish twins.’ Though, we’re mostly Italian,” he joked.
“So, exactly how old are you, doctor?” she asked, mimicking Brecken’s tone. She knew he was older, and it didn’t bother her in the least—in fact, she preferred it. He looked around Mitch’s age, and she’d been pretty revved up over Mitch last winter.
“Thirty-four,” he said. “But it’s just a number, Rosalie. My parents were ten years apart, and my dad met my mother when she was sixteen. Her parents made her wait until she finished school, but he always said it was love at first sight. Sometimes we find something unexpected we were never looking for. When it comes, there are no barriers too great.”
Rosalie was quiet. This wasn’t love. And it felt as if there were at least a dozen barriers. But she wouldn’t focus on that tonight. She would focus on the handsome man sitting next to her—doing all kinds of things to her insides. It’s just a date, she reminded herself. But then her heart actually fluttered when he kicked the car into gear, taking the long way into town so they could drive for a bit and enjoy each other’s company.
She loved how confident he was behind the wheel; he handled the car with reverence and ease. It might intimidate some men, but not Zade. Rosalie clutched her knees together, growing warm with thoughts of what he could do to her body if he handled his car this way.
Dear Lord she was going to have a hard time keeping him at arm’s length tonight.
ROSALIE HAD NEVER been inside the Lofts on Main before, though she’d admired them from the street view many times. They were renovated from an old warehouse building that took up an entire city block—not that their city blocks were big by most standards. The bottom floor housed several small businesses—The Cannon Group, Doug’s Coffee (which really was the best in town), Mums N’ Roses, Del Vecchio’s, and Cherry on Top, a local landmark that made the most delicious homemade ice cream in all of western North Carolina.
Zade parked his car in the underground parking deck and took Rosalie’s hand as they made their way to the old cage-style elevator. Rosalie backed away, shaking her head. “Uh-uh, mister. I am not getting into that rickety old thing.”
Zade laughed. “You know the building passed inspection, right?”
Her face paled. She’d had a bad experience in a past life that left her afraid of enclosed spaces with no way out, but she wasn’t about to share that on a first date. Nothing made a man run faster than talking about past lives and dead people.
“Can we just take the stairs instead?”
“Sure,” he said, leading them up the six flights of stairs to the penthouse floor. “You know the service elevator was only going to take us to the ground floor, right? We have a real one inside that I use to get to my condo.”
She narrowed her eyes at Zade, her hands on her hips. “You could’ve told me that!”
“It was too fun not to,” he laughed. “Besides, then I got to watch you take the stairs from behind. Wasn’t such a bad deal from my end of things.”
She got into his personal space, coming toe-to-toe with him. She poked him on the chest, playfully. “Not funny,” she said, though her tone was light. “But, well played, doctor.”
Zade caught her hands, linking his fingers with hers as he spun her around. Before she knew what was happening, she was pressed against the door to his condo, their linked hands high above her head. If she thought she’d gotten into his personal space, she’d had nothing on him. She swallowed, her eyes trained on his lips, which were inches from hers, their chests rising and falling together.
Damn he was smooth.
“God, Rosalie, I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I met you. You make it so damn hard to take things slow.”
She could reach out so easily and kiss him, giving in to the desire that was washing over her. She tried to ease the tension, afraid if she kissed him, she might not want to stop with just one. “What, no cheesy line this time?” she breathed out.
“Well, kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?” he said, lowering his mouth even closer.
She laughed, though her pulse was lodged high in her throat as Zade pressed his thigh between her legs. The hell with it, she thought, tossing caution to the wind. She rose on her tiptoes, bridging the distance between them. The anticipation had her closing her eyes, eager for the warmth that would come when their lips finally met.
Ding!
The elevator door slid open and Rosalie ducked from under Zade faster than she’d ever moved before, but not quick enough. Zada stood there in the elevator, her finger on the open button.
Zade ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Not a good time, Zada.”
She laughed, deep and throaty. “I can see that. Rosalie,” she said, nodding.
Rosalie waved from behind Zade, peeking her head out. Her cheeks were on fire, but Zade simply wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her forward. “Rosalie, this is my sister, Zada, though I think you’ve met before.”
Rosalie nodded. She’d seen her at the hospital many times while volunteering over the last eight months on the children’s floor. “Hey,” she said, rooted to her spot.
“All righty then,” Zada said, drawing out each word. “I’ll talk with you later, Za
de. Have a good night, you two.”
Rosalie watched as the elevator doors closed, leaving them alone again. Zade took her hand and led her into his condo. “That was probably for the best. I didn’t really want our first kiss to be in a hallway,” Zade said.
“Who said you were getting a kiss?” Rosalie demanded, though she’d been millimeters away from tracing her tongue along his gorgeous lips and seconds away from embarrassing herself.
Zade chuckled. “If you were any closer, Rosalie, we would’ve been Siamese twins. Not that I’m complaining,” he added when he saw the indignation on her face. “What? It was hot as hell, trust me.”
Rosalie’s insides were at war. Her heart was screaming to just finish the kiss already, explore the heat that was racing between them. But her pesky mind butted in, reminding her that she was most likely leaving Arden’s Glen soon, so maybe it was for the best that they were interrupted. She walked farther into the condo, putting some space between them so she could breathe.
There, she thought. That ought to do it.
ZADE GAVE ROSALIE a little space when she first entered the loft. He let her look around, knowing it was probably not what she expected from the outside of the building. The inside had a completely open concept, with a second-floor walkway spanning the entire perimeter, the inside open to the living space below. Golden hardwoods brightened the entire first floor while plush area rugs made it feel warm and cozy. Reclaimed wood in the same warm tones covered the ceiling spaces, and most of the walls were either exposed brick, white, or the dark gray his designer picked out to delineate the living room from the rest of the loft.
Zade was proud of his home. It was a comfortable mix of upscale bachelor pad and high-end luxury. A brown, aged-leather sofa and two reclining club chairs made the living room cozy, while the black fabric chairs at his custom-made, wooden dining table elevated the design a bit. That, and the rectangular crystal chandelier his designer had talked him into. He had to admit—it actually looked good in the space and it was growing on Zade.
