“That sounds like this job might be just about perfect for you, then.” Danielle folded her hands. “It would be so much fun for the two of you to be in the same city, just starting out. I assume things are serious between you two?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, I think so. It’s serious on my side, at least, and I think—well, we didn’t start out that way, but now, I can’t imagine being with anyone else.” Ever. It shocked me to even think those words, but I’d realized more and more lately how true they were.
“Then I’d say we have a lot to offer you.” She inclined her head. “Take this home. Talk it over with your girlfriend. And discuss it with your family. Once you’ve come to a decision, give me a call, and we’ll meet again.” She rose to her feet, and I did the same.
“Thank you for your time.” I shook her hand. “I look forward to talking again soon.”
“So do I.” Danielle grinned at me. “I have a feeling we’re going to find that today is only the beginning of a very happy partnership.”
“Hey, handsome. Got room in there for a girl who’s down for a good time?” Amanda bent down to lean in the passenger side window of my car, grinning at me.
For a long moment, I just drank in the sight of her. She’d pinned her hair up tonight, and just a few rebellious tendrils dangled around her gorgeous wide eyes. The dress she wore had a modest neckline, but I could make out the shape of her breasts under the shimmery black material.
“I think I can make that happen.” I leaned over to open the door. “Hop in, baby. I’ll show you a good time.”
She laughed, and the sound went straight to my dick as it always did. But this time, it made my heart swell with gladness, too. Before I could help myself, I reached for her, curling my hand around the back of her neck and drawing her close to kiss those pretty pouting lips.
“Hey.” I brushed my thumb over her cheekbone. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and kissed me once more. “You’re not bad yourself. Did you come right from the restaurant like that? I was surprised when you said you didn’t need to come up to change.”
I hadn’t told anyone about my visit to Casa de Romano—not my parents, not Carl and not even Amanda. I’d reasoned that until I knew more about what they had to say, it didn’t make sense to make a big deal out of it. And since we were on our way to a big night, I didn’t want to talk about it now. We’d have plenty of time later, I told myself.
“I had a meeting in the city this afternoon, so I came right from there,” I explained. It was the truth; it just wasn’t the whole story.
“Oh, cool. That was good timing, wasn’t it? So the trip into Philly to pick me up wasn’t completely wasted.”
“Hey, I was happy to come get you. We’re going to have fun tonight.” I eased into the lane of traffic, merging onto the street.
“Oh, Vincent.” Amanda shook her head. “Oh, my sweet summer child. One doesn’t have fun at political events. One merely survives them, if one is lucky.”
I hung a left at the corner. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It can be that bad and worse. And poor you, who can’t get totally wasted while we’re there, since you’re driving us home.” She reached over to squeeze my thigh, and my dick jumped in appreciation.
“That’s true. I’m sacrificing so much tonight, just so I can get you safely back to your apartment. I hope you’re planning to make it worth my while.”
“Babe, you can bet on it. Plus, I can just about guarantee I’ll be buzzed, so you can probably talk me into doing the really kinky stuff tonight.” Amanda raised her eyebrows.
“Wait, what really kinky stuff are we talking about here?” I slid her a side glance. “I thought we’d been doing the kinky stuff all along. Are you telling me there’s more?”
She trailed her finger up my thigh and closed her hand around my cock, almost making me veer off the road. “So much more, baby. So. Much. More.”
“Amanda, you made it.” Mrs. Simmons drew her daughter into a hug before she turned to me. “And Vincent. Look at you. Aren’t you looking hot tonight?”
“Mom.” Amanda rolled her eyes, grinning. “Please don’t objectify Vincent. It’s so not cool. Also, since he’s with me, it makes you sound a little creepy. A little Mrs. Robinson.”
Mrs. Simmons winked at me. “Coo-coo-ka-choo.”
“Hello, darling.” A tall, thin man with graying hair and a familiar smile joined us, leaning down to kiss Amanda’s cheek. There was just a trace of an accent in his voice.
“Daddy.” Amanda hugged her father. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be here.”
“Oh, I try to never miss one of the governor’s shindigs. Always such a good time.” Mr. Simmons winked at his daughter and then noticed me. “Kent Simmons. You must be Vincent. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Ah . . . nice to meet you, sir.” I shook his hand. I hadn’t expected to meet the father of the woman whose bed I was occupying with increasing regularity. “Depending on who was talking about me, don’t believe everything you hear.”
He laughed, and I realized why his smile seemed so familiar. Both that and his laugh were just like Amanda’s—or more accurately, hers were like his.
“It was all from my wife, and I can assure you that she is truthful and accurate to a fault. Also, she had only glowing reports of you. Particularly after you rushed to the city to care for our daughter when she was ill.” Mr. Simmons squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “Knowing you were with her set our minds at ease when we couldn’t be there.”
“Yes, Vincent was my very own Florence Nightingale.” Amanda slid her hand into mine. “Now that you’ve both done an admirable job of embarrassing me, we’re going to find the bar, so I can drink away that memory. We’ll catch up with you later.”
She dragged me away as I smiled a goodbye to her parents. “Shouldn’t we have hung with your mom and dad a little longer?”
“Nope.” Amanda shook her head. “They have the whole schmoozing thing to do, and we’d only be in the way of that. We’ll have plenty of time to chat later, because we’re sitting at the same table. So never fear. You’ll be able to get to know them, if that’s what you want.”
We crossed the large ballroom, wending our way through clumps of people who were standing together. I recognized a few faces from the news, the movers and shakers who were bigwigs in the state of New Jersey. A few called out greetings to Amanda, who smiled and nodded to acknowledge them, although she never stopped walking.
“These people know you? I mean—that was the attorney general over there. And he was talking to a United States senator. They called you by name.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I know them. My mother’s been in politics since I was in the womb. Most of them have known her since then, so yes, they’ve watched me grow up. We’ve been at holiday parties together . . . not to mention too many fundraisers to count. They’re like your aunts and uncles and cousins, in a way.”
“Hmm.” We stopped at the bar, and Amanda ordered her signature scotch, neat, before she turned to me.
“Want a beer? We’ll be here for a while, so you’ll have time for the effects to wear off before you drive.”
I shook my head. “I’ll stick with water for now, I think.”
The bartender nodded. “Sparkling or still?”
“Still, please.” I pulled out my wallet and tucked a couple of ones into the discreetly placed tip jar. “Thanks.”
With our drinks in hand, we began to circulate. I watched Amanda interact with various people, always introducing me as her friend, Vincent. As I paid attention, I began to be able to discern who were old friends and who were newer acquaintances, the ones who she was chatting up to help raise money for the party. There was a slight difference in the way she spoke to them, and I picked up on how she kept herself just slightly removed from those she didn’t know well.
At dinner, we sat with her parents and four people Amanda told me in a murmur were wealthy
donors.
“So, Vincent.” One of the women, a well-preserved elderly lady, turned to address me. “What do you do?”
I cleared my throat, suddenly tense. This was the moment I’d worried about, when I’d have to admit that I wasn’t a doctor or CEO. I knew what I did for a living didn’t matter to Amanda or to her parents, but I didn’t want to embarrass them, either.
“I’m a pastry chef. I work in my family’s restaurant in Seagrove City—it’s down by the shore.”
“Oh!” She smiled, and her eyes brightened. “Now that’s lovely. I do love a man who can cook. Tell me about some of the desserts you make. My late husband Douglas used to cook, too—it was his hobby, and it brought us both great joy. I miss talking to him about that.”
I spent the next thirty minutes describing my favorite pastries and recipes to the lady whose rapt attention never left me. We were interrupted when the state police commissioner stopped by the table to speak to her, at which point the gentleman on the other side of her began asking me questions about Seagrove City, where apparently his family had had a house many years ago.
Just before the end of the evening, the governor came over to talk to us, kissing Amanda on the cheek as she introduced me to him. I played it cool, all the while thinking how surreal it was that I was here, hanging out with the people who ran our state.
“Vincent, you were brilliant tonight.” Mrs. Simmons pulled me in for a hug as the four of us left the hotel after the party was officially over. “You charmed Mrs. Sanders so much that she doubled the size of her usual contribution. I think we’re going to make you come to all of these and chat up the donors.”
Amanda wrapped her arm around my waist and laid her head against my chest. “Sorry, Mom. Vincent is not available to work your fundraisers . . . no matter how much the old ladies love him.”
Her mother laughed. “Maybe we could work out a compromise. You wouldn’t begrudge your mother and your governor the services of your boyfriend, would you, Amanda?”
Amanda cast me a quick glance, and I didn’t miss the slight panic in her eyes. “Mom, Vincent and I—we don’t—he isn’t—”
I ran my fingers down her arm and took her hand in mine. “Always happy to help, Mrs. S. I’d do anything for my girlfriend and her family.”
“You really won my mom over tonight. And my dad, too, because if my mother and I are happy, so is he.” Amanda balanced on one foot just inside her bedroom door, gripping the jamb as she slipped off first one high heel and then the other. I couldn’t help smiling when I saw her bend over to pick up both shoes and carry them to her closet. I’d noticed in the past few months that she’d become more conscientious about tidying up after herself. She made an effort to straighten up when she knew I was coming over. I never said anything, but I thought maybe that I was leading by example.
Not that it really mattered to me. Yes, Amanda could be a little careless at times, but it was actually kind of endearing, probably because she realized her own foibles. It was just one of her many traits that made me smile when I thought of them.
I caught myself. Jesus God, what in the hell was happening to me? When had I morphed from a guy who was cynical as hell about anything remotely resembling a relationship to the dude who thought it was adorable that his girlfriend left her dress on the floor?
And when had I seriously begun considering Amanda my girlfriend?
I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, but as I watched her wriggle out of the dress and then reach back to unhook her bra, suddenly, none of that mattered.
She turned her head and smiled at me. Incredibly, I wasn’t looking at her tempting breasts; I was seeing her smile and the way she looked at me and the softness in her eyes. It wasn’t about the sex anymore or about how much I wanted her, which was still constant and intense; it was about her. Us.
“What’s that look for?” she asked, the smile still playing around her lips as she picked up her robe from the foot of her bed.
“I was just thinking that turnabout is fair play.” I reached for her hand, pulling her towards me so that I could wrap my arms around her and kiss her lips lightly. “Because you know, now that I’ve been out with your parents in the official capacity of your boyfriend, maybe it’s time for you to come to Sunday supper at the DiMartinos. If you’re up for it, that is. It’s not for the weak of heart or mind.”
Amanda stared at me, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I couldn’t figure out whether she thought that the invitation was a good thing or the scariest shit she’d ever heard.
“Are you sure about this? Inviting me to the Sunday family dinner seems like a really big deal.”
“I guess it probably is, but maybe you and I are a really big deal. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending that we’re not. I’m tired of having my life segmented into the Amanda parts and the family parts. It would be much easier if you were all one big part.”
Her green eyes gleamed teasingly. “I see. So, this is just a for your convenience, isn’t it? It has nothing to do with anything else.”
I nuzzled her neck. “Baby, you know by now that I’m a selfish son of a bitch. Of course, it’s all about me.”
“That’s what you want everyone to think, but I know better now.” She took my face between her hands and gazed up at me, making certain I was looking into her eyes. “Vincent, you’re the most giving, caring man I’ve ever met. You just try to hide it. I’m still not sure why, but you’re busted, babe. I’ve cracked the candy shell and tasted the sweet gooey center.”
What she said did something to my heart. I felt a little like that Christmas movie for kids, where the dude’s heart grows three sizes—only mine felt like it might be melting instead. Along with that came abject panic, because I’d never let anyone in this close to the part of me I protected so fiercely. I covered both feelings by trailing my hands down Amanda’s back to firmly grasp her ass, only covered in thin black lace.
“Yeah, you have, sweetheart, and if you’re up for it, I’d love for you to taste my center again right now.”
“I’m always ready and willing for that. Always. But don’t try to change the subject. I’m not asking you to change anything, and I don’t have an agenda. I just think it’s important for you to know that I see you—the real you. I see the parts of you that you don’t let anyone else near. And I like those parts.” She stretched to drop a kiss on my lips. “I think all of you is pretty terrific.”
Maybe sensing that I was processing her words, trying to figure out how to respond, she eased away from me and began to shrug into her robe. But I caught her hand again and held it between both of mine.
“Amanda.” My voice was thick. “I . . . thanks.”
She tilted her head. “For what?”
“For . . .” I swallowed. “For seeing me, I guess. For letting me be what I need to be. You kind of make it easy to just be. When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I have anything to prove, you know? Because you take all of me, and you accept it. I don’t have to be that guy—the one who’s the little brother, who can never make his parents happy enough, who has to keep pushing ahead. I can just be. You’re restful.”
With her free hand, Amanda brushed along the side of my cheek. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. But you give me way too much credit, because I don’t feel like I do anything special. Sometimes—” She swallowed and lowered her eyes to my chest. “I worry that I lean on you, and that you might not like it. I’ve never done that with anyone else, other than my mom. But you make me feel safe, like I can relax, and you’ve got me.”
“I do have you.” I released her hand to hold her close again. “I love that you lean on me, even though I know you can stand on your own, any time. I love that you let me see the side of you that’s . . . vulnerable. I love that you take me as I am. I love that you have to take off your shoes the minute we’re inside—no matter where we are. I love that you can’t go to sleep at night before you play solitaire on your p
hone, and I love that you’ve turned phone solitaire into some kind of competitive sport.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head, but I wasn’t finished yet.
“I love that you can win any argument, because you have a way of using words and phrases that makes my head spin. I even love that you leave your clothes all over and that you get flustered when your room is messy.” I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my ears, because I knew what I was about to say. I knew what it meant. And I couldn’t help myself, because it was true, and I wanted Amanda to hear it. I needed to say it, and I needed her to understand how deeply important it was.
“I love every part of you, Amanda. Because I love you.”
Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted. “You do?”
I nodded, and I waited for a beat, bracing myself for the tidal wave of regret I expected to feel. But it didn’t come. Instead, I only felt incredibly free and relieved—as though telling Amanda how I felt was the key that had unlocked a door I hadn’t realized I was holding shut.
“Vincent.” She breathed my name. “I’ve been beating myself up for months, because I was so sure that it was too soon to feel how I do for you. I thought I was crazy. Or maybe that I only thought I loved you because of how easy it is to be with you.”
“You think easy is bad?” I raised one eyebrow. “Isn’t easy supposed to be good?”
“It was more than that.” She shook her head. “When I think of loving you, I know I want more. More with you, I mean. I don’t want to be in love and only see you every two or three weeks. I want you in my bed every night. I want to see you in the mornings and eat with you every day. That feels impossible, so I convinced myself that loving you is impossible, too.”
Just Roll With It (Perfect Dish Romances Book 4) Page 18
