****
The restaurant had actually been someone’s home in a past life. Dan led me up the stairs of what appeared to be a large Victorian and into the front door, his right hand resting on my lower back.
A boisterous man with a booming voice greeted us immediately. “Dan, it’s good to see you.” He slapped Dan on the back as he shook his hand vigorously. “How’s the leg?”
“Getting better everyday, Vince.”
“Glad to hear it. Where is our little Miss Alexis tonight?”
“At a friend’s house. I brought my friend Sabrina instead.”
Vince looked at me as though he hadn’t noticed my presence. “Well, hello Sabrina. I’m Vince Maroni. My wife, Rita, and I own this place.” He took my hand in his and raised it to his mouth, lightly brushing his lips across my knuckles. I silently thanked God, because I don’t think I could survive one of Vince’s handshakes.
“No train room for you tonight. Only the room of romance will do,” he declared, rolling his R’s dramatically.
Vince instructed us to follow him and we did, to a quiet table for two, set next to a lovely brick fireplace, which in consideration for the season, was not lit. He handed a menu to me, then to Dan and proceeded to list the specials of the evening. With a flick of his lighter, the small votive candle in the center of the table came to light. “Would you like some wine tonight?”
Dan’s eyes met mine over the candlelight. “Zinfandel? For old times’ sake?” he asked.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Dan had ordered White Zinfandel on our first date. He admitted later that a friend of his had suggested it, that he himself knew nothing about wine. And considering the fact that neither of us was old enough to drink at the time, why should we? That aside, I can’t believe he still remembers our first date.
“I’ll bring that right out for you,” Vince said, before turning on his heel and leaving us alone.
I looked around the room and was taken in by its old world charm. Since the restaurant used to be a house, it consisted of a few small rooms instead of one large one. The dimly lit room was very romantic, as Vince had promised.
Light butterscotch paint coated the aged plaster walls. Cozy tables were scattered throughout with enough distance between to give space and a sense of privacy. Red checked tablecloths added the finishing touch.
“Dan!” A female voice brought me out of my perusal of the room. I looked up and saw a petite woman with thick black hair and piercing blue eyes rushing toward our table. If it weren’t for the ice bucket clutched to her ample bosom, I would have assumed she was a patron. Her casual dress did not mark her as an employee.
“It’s been a long time,” she said, embracing Dan, who was now standing, welcoming her with open arms. “We haven’t seen you in so long.” Her voice was what I can only describe as smoky, sexy in an exotic way.
“I’ve been kind of tied up,” he answered.
The woman’s eyes shifted to me, and her pleasant expression put me at ease. “Vince warned me, but I didn’t believe him,” she teased. I followed her eyes to Dan, who was actually blushing.
“Rita, this is Sabrina Kelly. Sabrina, Rita Maroni, Vince’s wife and the main force behind the wonderful food that’s served here.”
“Hello Sabrina.” Rita extended her hand to shake mine. “It’s so nice to meet you.” That done, she turned back to Dan. “Sit.” He did as she ordered and she pulled a corkscrew out of her pocket and opened the wine. After going through the whole ceremony of allowing Dan to taste the wine and filling both of our glasses, she set the bottle in the ice bucket next to our table.
“Vince will be out shortly to take your order. I just had to see this for myself,” she said, tossing a smile my way.
Then we were alone. Well, as alone as two people can be in a public place. I took a sip of wine, more for something to do than anything else. I felt Dan watching me, and my stomach started to flutter. Whether it was from nervousness or anticipation, I’m not sure.
“I take it you come her often,” I said.
Dan nodded. “This is one of Lexi’s favorite restaurants.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure if she likes the food or the fuss they make over her.”
“Probably a little of both.”
Again, he nodded. He looked like he was going to say something, but Vince returned to take our orders.
Dan and I decided to share an order of stuffed mushrooms for an appetizer. Colossal salads, loaded with a variety of veggies topped with house dressing followed.
I ordered chicken marsala with a side of spaghetti with marinara. It had seemed like a harmless meal until Vince set it down in front of me. A plate the size of a satellite dish held the chicken, which was a full breast topped with marsala sauce and mushrooms. I thought he’d forgotten my spaghetti until he placed what I would consider a serving bowl down, filled with my “side” of pasta.
The bowl that held Dan’s fettuccine alfredo was so large I could barely see him over it. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but I swear there has to be two pounds of pasta in front of him.
“Is everything all right?” Vince asked a while later.
“Delicious,” I answered, around a mouthful of the best chicken marsala I’d ever tasted.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Dan and I both told him he couldn’t and Vince told us to yell if we needed him.
“I’ll never finish all this,” I said, looking at the mound of food on my plate.
“They do give healthy portions.”
“I don’t know if I would use the word healthy to describe this meal, but there sure is a lot.”
A loaf of crusty Italian bread sat in a basket between us. Dan picked up the basket and held it out to me. “Bread?”
“Not just yet, thanks.”
He set the basket down, took a piece of bread for himself, and proceeded to butter it. I stared, fascinated by his hands, his long, broad-tipped fingers as they held the knife. Images of those hands touching me flashed through my mind, heated my skin. No man’s hands had ever felt as good as Dan’s. No one else ever made me feel like he could with the slightest touch. I returned my attention to my food.
We ate in silence for some time before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about the fuss.”
“Fuss?”
“The fuss Vince and Rita are making.”
“That’s okay.”
“Lexi’s the only female I’ve ever brought here.” He thought for a moment then added, “No, scratch that. I brought my mother here once.”
The way he said the last word made me think the experience wasn’t a pleasant one.
“Once?”
“She and Rita hit it off instantly and kept trying to fix my life for me.”
“What’s wrong with your life?” I don’t know what possessed me to ask.
He shrugged. “They think I need a good woman.”
Okay, time to change the subject.
“So, Lexi really likes it here?” My voice sounded an octave or two higher than normal.
“Yeah, she does,” Dan answered. I thought I was home free until he added, “I told my mom that I had a good woman and let her go.”
I nearly choked on my pasta. He went back to his fettuccini. We finished eating in silence.
The ride back to the house was quiet. Dan seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and I didn’t feel the need to fill the air with needless chatter.
I used the time to evaluate the evening as a whole. The restaurant was charming, the food amazing, and Dan had been the perfect date. And yes, I readily admit that it was a date. I had truly enjoyed myself and planned to admit as much to Dan.
Resting my head against the window, I allowed my mind to wander to the past. How many nights had we shared like this very one? More than I can remember. With or without dinner, our time together had been…easy. We never ran out of things to talk about, yet we also weren’t afraid of quiet times. Like now, neither of us feels the need to speak and t
he silence seems neither oppressive nor uncomfortable.
The car stopped and I realized we were back at the house. Dan unbuckled his seat belt and I did the same. Suddenly, tension filled the air. It was so overwhelming I opened my door in order to drag some fresh air into my lungs.
“You okay?” Dan ran around to my side of the car…well, ran as well as any man with a leg injury using a cane can.
“Fine. I just needed some air.”
He studied my face for a moment and nodded. His hand reached out and held mine, helping me out of the car.
The house was quiet.
“Would you like a drink?” Dan asked.
I really didn’t want the evening to end, which immediately made me want to decline. I don’t want to want him. But I do.
“I’d like that,” I answered, shocking him as much as myself.
“Great.” He’d obviously expected me to head straight to bed, even though it was barely ten o’clock. “Have a seat. Would you like more wine?”
While that was tempting, I figured I’d had enough alcohol. “Soda is fine.”
I sat on the couch and watched Dan fill two cut crystal glasses with Diet Pepsi. I wondered how he was going to carry both and use his cane, and smiled when he placed both glasses in the palm of his right hand, before picking up the cane and heading toward me.
“Thank you.” I took a token sip and placed the glass on the coffee table in front of me. “I had a great time tonight. Thank you for asking me.”
From the look on his face, I managed to shock him again. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said once he composed himself. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”
I wanted to tell him no, tell him not to get the wrong idea, but instead I heard myself say, “I think I’d like that.”
Dan finished the soda in one long gulp and placed the glass on the table next to mine. He sat back against the cushion and traced the crease in his pants with his index finger. “Sabrina,” he started, then cleared his throat. “I want you to know how sorry I am about everything that happened between us.” He turned to fully face me. “You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you when you confronted me, either.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve explained to you why I did it, and you brought up a very valid point. The thought of someone else touching you, kissing you would have driven me insane…still drives me insane. So why should it be any different for me?”
The anguish in his eyes, on his face is genuine and I know now that he is truly sorry. The things that happened between us obviously affected him as much as they did me.
“I just don’t want you to think I’m a jerk anymore. I care about you and your opinion too much to let that be the case.”
His eyes searched mine, looking for answers to his questions, for reassurances about my thoughts, my feelings. I knew I had to speak and that I had to be honest. The problem is that while my honesty will thrill him, it’s going to scare the hell out of me.
“I don’t think you’re a jerk,” I said, my voice a mere whisper. His disbelieving look made me smile. “I really don’t, Dan. That’s not to say that I didn’t before. But I don’t anymore.”
“If I followed that correctly, I think I like what I’m hearing.” His voice raised slightly on the last word, turning it into a question.
“You heard me correctly,” I assured him. “For ten years, I allowed what happened to fester inside me. In my mind’s eye, you turned into a monster who broke my heart. And you were right.” He cocked his brow, but didn’t say a word, obviously not wanting to break my train of thought. “When I first arrived, I saw you as I wanted to, not as you actually are. You’re obviously a dedicated father and if rumors can be believed, you’re not the shallow, womanizing creep I’d imagined you to be.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Dan chuckled. “I think.”
“It was meant to be compliment, no matter how backhanded it sounded.” I leaned forward and took a sip of soda. “Whenever I thought of you over the years, I’d imagined you with a slew of groupies, living a life of never ending orgies.”
He seemed to think about that for a minute then started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
It took a second for him to compose himself enough to answer. “While you were imagining that, I was probably trying to figure out how to change a diaper.” He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and sobered. “Seriously Sabrina, it was never like that. Even back in college, it…” he stopped and rubbed his eyes. “There just weren’t as many girls as you seem to think there were.” He held up his hand. “Now, before you go berserk, I know there shouldn’t have been any. Even one was too many. I know that now. Hell, I knew that then, if my guilt was an indicator.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m really messing up here.”
“No, you’re not,” I reassured him. “Dan, what happened, happened. Circling around it won’t make it go away. That’s the mistake I made back then. Instead of talking to you about it, I drew my own conclusions.”
“You tried to talk to me. I screwed that up. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. But in all honesty, no matter what you said that day wouldn’t have really registered. I was too hurt, too upset.”
“Sabrina, I could say I’m sorry a million times and it wouldn’t begin to convey how I feel.” I nodded, just to let him know I’d heard him. “Thank you for talking to me about this.”
I nodded again, tossing the question around in my mind. Did I dare ask it? Am I strong enough to face his answer? I guess I’ll never know if I don’t ask.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“I was wondering. I mean…” I let out a frustrated breath and started over. “The night of the prom, did you…did you go to someone else after you left me?”
Dan looked as unsettled by the question as I’d felt asking it. For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to answer, but slowly his features returned to normal, then softened. He inched closer to me and took my hand in his. “Is that what you think?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “No wonder you hated me so much.” I looked at him with confused eyes and saw the answer even before he said it. “No Sabrina, I never went to anyone after I left you. Not ever, but especially not that night. It was too special, too memorable to tarnish.”
“I just always wondered.”
Dan stroked my knuckles with his thumb and his smile turned nostalgic. “That night was amazing, Bri. Walking out of that room was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“But you didn’t have to,” I pointed out. “You could’ve stayed. In fact, I seem to remember begging you to do just that.”
“I know.” He leaned closer and cupped my cheek in his big palm. “I know.” He kissed my forehead before pulling back and looking into my eyes once again. “That night has haunted my dreams for ten years. Sometimes we finish what we started, but most times I wake up so hard I feel like I’m gonna explode.”
He placed a gentle kiss on my lips. It started as a comforting kiss between two friends, but the old feelings took hold too quickly for either of us to stop them. Dan kissed me once again, this time it was less comforting and more possessive, more complete. I thought I would melt into a puddle right there on the couch.
His hands circled my waist and pulled me closer, our mouths never losing contact. I wrapped my arms around his neck, putting my breasts in contact with his brick wall of a chest. I felt as well as heard his groan before he opened his mouth fully over mine and thrust his tongue inside.
No one kissed like Dan. There must be something addictive in his saliva, because one taste of him and I want more. Dan leaned forward, pushing me against the arm of the couch. I slid my shoes off and put my right leg on the couch behind his back. And the kiss went on.
He settled between my widespread thighs and I felt his erection brush against me. A thrill shot through me, then exploded as Dan cuppe
d my breast, then rolled my distended nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I arched my back, telling him in the only way I could that I wanted more. He didn’t disappoint.
By slow degrees, he drove me wild. First one breast, then the other received attention. His hips danced a slow, easy rhythm between my thighs and our mouths only parted long enough to allow us to breathe.
I pulled his shirt out of his pants and allowed my hands to roam over the broad expanse of his back. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath my fingers, and I wanted more. I was so into things, it took me a moment to realize that Dan was slowing down, pulling away.
“No,” I screamed in my mind and only realized I’d said it out loud when Dan kissed my forehead and whispered reassurances.
“Not like this, Bri,” he panted. “Not on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers.” His crooked smile looked sexy and seductive and somewhat evil. “I want to stretch you out on my bed and love every inch of you.” His eyes glowed in the darkness and I shivered in anticipation. “Will you let me?”
The word yes was barely out of my mouth before Dan was leading me to his room. A lamp on the nightstand cast a soft glow over the room. The king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by masculine furniture. Family photos were scattered throughout the room in lieu of the sports awards and memorabilia I’d assumed would be there.
Dan stepped in front of me, putting an end to my perusal. He placed his hands on either side of my face. “Are you sure?”
I didn’t have to ask what he as talking about. I also didn’t have to think about my answer. “I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve been wanting this forever.”
“Me too,” he said, before crushing his mouth to mine.
His hands moved down my body, then back up, dragging my dress with them. The kiss ended just long enough to allow him to pull the silky material over my head.
Dan laid me in the center of his bed and looked his fill. Thankfully, I’d worn my sexy underwear.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Perfect.” He stroked his hand across my abdomen. “Soft.”
Before he started touching the really good parts, I reached over and removed his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. My fingers itched to touch him, so I did. His skin felt smooth beneath the tawny hair, stretched over well-developed muscles. I leaned forward and placed a kiss just above his right nipple.
Girls You Marry Page 13
