Shattered Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 1)
Page 4
I nodded thoughtfully for a moment, truly taking in everything Laurel had said. It was rare that she got so deep, normally choosing to be upbeat and lighthearted, so I knew what she said wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Instead of responding with something equally serious, I broke into a wide grin. “Heh…you said penal.”
She grabbed one of the throw pillows and whacked me in the head with it. “Forget everything I said. I do not like fourteen year old Mimi.” She stood and stretched, lifting her arms high above her head and wiggling her fingers. She dropped her arms, sighed and looked at me. “I know you’re thinking about it, Mimi. I don’t know much of anything about this guy, but I do know you. You’re not superficial, or vapid, or a hundred other stupid things women become when a man walks into the picture. There’s something different about this guy, and it’s up to you to figure out what. Now that I’ve laid that bit of wisdom on you, I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Thanks, Laurel. For everything.” I said quietly.
She just nodded at me and headed for the bathroom.
Chapter Three
I started getting ready for my date at six that evening. I took a leisurely shower, scrubbing every square inch of my body with Laurel’s luxurious lavender and vanilla body wash. I also indulged in her splendid hair products, a rich shampoo and conditioner that promised to tame my curls into a sleek and shiny mane. I shaved all necessary parts, and taking care to be meticulous with some areas, just in case. Not that I had any plans of course, but no one wants to be caught in a moment of wild abandon only to be brought back to reality by the thought of unsightly stubble.
I took time carefully applying my make-up with the precision of a cardiac surgeon. I went all-out with dramatic beige and plum eye shadow, and heavy eyeliner with lots of mascara to play up my eyes. They were an odd hazel, mostly green with amber flecks rather than brown. A hint of blush, and a barely-there nude lipstick and gloss. I blew out and straightened my blonde hair before twisting it up into an elegant style, allowing my bangs and a few wisps to frame my face. I took a long look at my reflection in the mirror. I normally went for a much more natural look, so wearing this much make-up kind of made me feel a bit like a Kabuki Theatre performer, but if I had to say it, I looked much better than one.
Wrapped in just my towel, I left the bathroom and headed into Laurel’s bedroom to slip into my dress and shoes. Looking at her bedside clock, I saw that I had been so unhurried in my preparations, I had about ten minutes before Vance was expected to arrive. I quickly stepped into my dress, struggling with the back zipper. Giving up at the half way point, I rushed to strap on my shoes and transfer all the necessities into the new clutch purse I’d also bought on our shopping adventure.
I dashed out into the living room, hoping to get my dress zipped up the rest of the way by Laurel, only to find Vance standing in there looking absolutely edible in a charcoal gray three button suit and a muted moss green tie. I had to snicker. Despite there being no possible way to know what I was going to wear, we were color-coordinated.
“What’s funny?” He asked, with a lift of his brow.
“You. Me,” I said, motioning between us with one of my hands.
“I don’t quite follow, Mimi. You’re going to have to give me a little bit more information than that.”
“Really? That’s surprising, because it seems you’ve developed the ability to read my mind.”
“Given my complete confusion at the moment, I can assure you that is entirely untrue.”
“Look! We match!” I giggled as I came forward and yanked on his tie.
A shy smile spread across his face. “Just lucky, I guess. That seems to be happening to me a lot these days.”
“Perhaps you should take that luck to Vegas.” I murmured.
“Only if she takes me up on one of my wild proposals,” he smirked.
I shook my head because it was the only thing I could do in response to his crazy teasing. I suddenly realized I was standing there with my dress practically gaping forward in front of him, because it was still partially unzipped in the back. I tried to press my clutch to my chest in a casual gesture and asked “Where did Laurel go?”
“She let me in, and then muttered something about having to see a martini about a man, grabbed her purse and left.”
“I knew she had a date, but thought she would at least say goodbye before she left.” I nibbled nervously on my lower lip. “I guess I’ll have to ask you. I need a little help.”
“This isn’t some kind of woman thing is it?” he hedged.
I couldn’t help myself. I took on a very serious expression and nodded soberly. “Kind of.”
He looked only moderately mortified. He took a deep breath and exhaled in a rush. Slapping his hands together, then shaking them out, he said, “Okay, Mimi. Hit me with it. I’m your man. Whatever you need, I can take it.”
I slowly turned around and gestured toward my back. “Do you think you can zip me up the rest of the way?”
I heard him take another sharp breath inward, but no exhalation followed. A moment passed before he stepped forward and his hand gently came to rest on my lower back, pulling on the fabric just below the zipper. I felt him take hold of the zip, then slowly drag it upward, taking his time. His hand moved to my bare shoulder after he reached the top and rested there for a moment before pulling me around to face him. He looked deeply into my eyes, then his gaze dropped to my lips. I held my breath, as I realized that this was it. That sinful mouth was going to touch mine and I was probably going to combust and burn my pretty new dress to ash. Oh well. At least he got to see it for a few minutes. Of course, the lack of dress thing might move events into an interesting direction, too.
Completely unaware of my inner contemplation, he continued to look at me with those smoldering eyes. My lips parted and my tongue darted out and over them quickly. He noticed the gesture as he moved in slightly. I tilted my head up to receive him, but at the last second, he pulled away and smiled weakly. What the hell? I thought.
“We need to get moving if we are going to make our reservation,” he said hoarsely.
I swallowed the disappointment I felt as the moment fell away from us. I had felt the heat rise between us, so intellectually I knew the chemistry was there and it could happen again when the time was right. I didn’t know what happened just then, why he pulled back, but damn, I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t hoping that time was very, very soon.
I took a step back and cleared my throat unnecessarily before speaking. “So where are we going?” I asked, for lack of anything better to say. It really didn’t matter to me where we went, since I wasn’t all that hungry. The butterflies were bouncing around in my stomach full force, especially after that near-kiss, so I wasn’t expecting to do much more than push my food around on my plate.
He gently ushered me toward the front door as he explained, “With all that we discussed the other day, I realized we never got around to our food preferences. I searched high and low for a place that has a simple menu.”
“I didn’t know Chili’s takes reservations now.” I replied wryly.
“Only in New York.” He quipped without missing a beat. “Now come, gorgeous. There’s a big onion blossom with your name on it out there.”
I swiped the keys from the sideboard table as we walked out and locked the door behind us. Vance took my hand as we made our way down the two flights of stairs to the front walk, and strolled casually to the end of the block. I admired his lean body as he stepped from the curb to hail a taxi, his long arm raised over his head. Though it was mostly obscured by the cut of his suit, I could picture the cap of his shoulder bunching as it flexed. What I wouldn’t have given to see him shirtless right then. Or pants-less. Preferably both. Yeah, wearing just a pair of tight boxer briefs. Dripping wet. I knew I was being pretty pervy, but I couldn’t help being a little bit worked up after our close encounter back up in the apartment. Every self-respecting, red blooded woman under the ag
e of sixty-five, make that one hundred and five, would feel the exact same way I was feeling. He was a delicious triple scoop ice cream sundae, and I definitely wanted a bite.
Before I lost control enough to tackle him in the street, a cab pulled up and Vance opened the door for me. I slid in, taking care not to flash him the goods. I may have been thinking slutty thoughts, but I wasn’t the type to go all Hollywood party girl on him in a desperate attempt to get what I wanted. He jumped in beside me and gave the driver an address that meant absolutely nothing to me. He could have been taking me across the state border and I wouldn’t have known.
The ride was comfortable but quiet. We both seemed a little lost in our thoughts. I couldn’t know what he was thinking, but my thoughts were certainly erotica-worthy. After about twenty minutes, we pulled up outside a quaint little bistro. I could see through the antique-looking windows that the low lighting gave the small restaurant a warm and inviting glow. As we exited the vehicle, Vance’s hand settled low on my back, guiding me forward, and sending a shiver up my spine. When he opened the door for me and we stepped inside, I was instantly overwhelmed by the delicious aroma of savory meats, garlic and other spices, as well as baking bread. My stomach rumbled like a hungry truck driver’s. Inside, I snorted at my earlier thoughts of pushing my food around my plate. I expected that if the meal smelled as good as the room did, Vance would be running for the door when I dove head first into my plate.
We were greeted by a statuesque brunette, whose her hair was pulled severely back from her forehead and temples, the rest a riot of curls hanging down her back. Her face was flawlessly made up, and her big brown doe eyes skimmed over me as if I were a piece of furniture before they zeroed in on Vance with the subtlety and precision of a laser beam on a sniper’s rifle. She gathered herself to her full height as she smiled brightly. I could practically see her mentally adjusting her breasts and plumping her cleavage.
“Can I help you sir?” She purred through her thick red lips, oozing estrogen all over the podium and reservation book. I rolled my eyes and scooted closer to Vance, just to emphasize that we came together.
“Ashcroft, party of two,” Vance responded, as his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me in close to his side. His action was the only outward sign he was even aware that she was trying to catch his eye.
Her eyes flicked back to me for a moment, her smile tightening as she checked her book. Gesturing for us to follow her with a little less enthusiasm, she picked up two menus and led us to a quiet table next to the window.
Vance politely pulled out my chair before settling into his own. The pit viper handed us our menus, telling us our server would be with us momentarily, all the while simpering at Vance. To his credit, he merely nodded courteously and turned his attention to me. I was not quite so well-mannered. I scowled at her the whole time, and mad-dogged her as she drifted back to the front of the room, swishing her hips all the way. I supposed she was hoping he was watching her leave. I turned to look back at him and found him watching me watch her with an amused look on his face. I had the decency to flush a little and grabbed my menu for camouflage. Thankfully, he made no comment.
Vance followed suit and opened his own menu, but after scanning it for a moment, he dropped it to the table in front of him and reached for my hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed the backs of my fingers softly before saying, “I’m really glad you are here, Mimi. I have been looking forward to this ever since you agreed to have dinner with me.”
Just then, the bus boy appeared, placing glasses of water on the table before us, along with the obligatory bread basket and a cruet of oil and vinegar. He then disappeared as silently as he came. Before either of us could say a word, the waiter came to take our drink orders. Vance asked if I would like to have wine with our meal, but I automatically scrunched up my nose in distaste. His eyes bulged for a moment, and the waiter looked aghast.
“What, you don’t like wine?” Vance whispered urgently.
I shook my head regretfully. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I have tried several times because I know it’s a very social thing to drink, but I just can’t bring myself around to the flavor. I’ve tried many varieties, and it all just tastes too sour to me.”
The waiter, who looked to be in his late fifties, with thinning grayish hair, a long pointy nose with gold rimmed glasses perched on the end of it, chimed in snootily, “I assure you madam, you have been sampling inferior wines. You should try the services of a qualified sommelier. I am sure you could find a variety that would please your palate. Wine is for everyone.”
“Do you have one on the premises?” I inquired hopefully.
“Well, err… no. We are just a small establishment.” He shook his head.
My first instinct was a snarky comment in the face of his snootiness, but I decided to try to make a better impression on Vance after my less than gracious behavior with the hostess, so I just smiled politely and said, “Then I guess I will just have to order a vodka martini tonight and remember your suggestion for another time.”
Vance just grinned and ordered a glass of single malt scotch.
Our waiter promised to return for our menu selections and scurried off to the bar, looking slightly chagrined. I reached for my water glass and took a sip as Vance said, “I know I didn’t say it before, but you look absolutely breathtaking tonight. When you came walking out into the living room… wow. I knew I had met a beautiful girl at the airport, but the magnificent woman I’m with tonight belongs in a painting in a museum somewhere, not sitting in a booth at Chili’s.”
I was equally flattered by his compliment and amused by his reference to my earlier joke. I knew Vance was a light-hearted man who didn’t like to let an opportunity to slip in some silliness pass him by, so I wasn’t surprised his serious compliment had a dash of humor with it. He made me want to giggle with him instead of suddenly making me feel shy or awkward, which is what such an effusive compliment would have done all by itself. Either we were cut from the same cloth, or the guy just ‘got me’.
“Thank you, Vance. You look very good, too.” I raised my glass to my lips as if to take a drink. ”I wanted to climb you like a monkey as soon as I saw you.” I mumbled against the rim.
Vance cupped a hand around his ear and leaned forward. “What was that again? I didn’t quite hear it. Would you care to repeat it?” he said, his laughter barely disguised by the words.
I shook my head and mouthed the word “No,” at him.
He sat back grinning wildly at me. “Shall we look at these menus then, before the waiter gets back? I don’t think ‘Randolph’ will be pleased if we aren’t ready to give him our orders. He doesn’t seem like a patient fellow.”
Relieved, I nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s do.”
I contemplated the seared tuna, but ultimately decided I did not want to have fish breath and selected the chicken and fresh linguine instead. Vance made the very manly choice of the seared New York Strip Steak. We declined to order an appetizer, choosing to nibble on the bread from the basket.
As we were waiting for our entrees, Vance studied me from across the table as he sipped his drink. “I probably shouldn’t say this,” he began, “but you make me want to throw any notion of self-preservation out the window for some odd reason. I know it has only been a few days since we met, but it feels like I have been waiting for this date, for you, for a very long time.”
“I know exactly what you mean. On both counts. I’ve been very excited to see you again and…“ I paused for a moment and took a deep breath.
“And?”
“Whenever I’m with you, talking to you on the phone, or hell, even just thinking about you, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff… and I have the strongest urge to close my eyes and just jump. I can’t explain it, but I have this instinctive feeling that you will be at the bottom waiting to catch me.” I waved my hand in front of my face and took a sip of my cocktail, blushing slightly. “I know it’s silly.”
My breath stuck in my throat and I didn’t know what to do. We were having a very serious moment, and it made my mind spin that we were moving so quickly. I meant what I said. I felt like I was traveling down a road at break neck speed and had absolutely no desire to put on the brakes. I instinctively felt Vance was someone I could trust, but a tiny voice was whispering to me that it was all too good to be true. However, I’d already learned so much about this man, we’d covered so much ground so quickly. Surely, the hours spent talking on the plane and on the phone was equal to time we would have spent on several dates any other couple would have done getting to know each other? Yes, our beginning was unconventional, but to me, that didn’t make it any less real.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and made a decision. I leaned forward and looked back into his eyes and whispered, “I choose to jump, Vance.”
He squeezed my hand and beamed at me like I’d just made him happier than he had ever been. “Let’s grab a couple parachutes and jump together, sweetheart.”
“Deal.” I squeezed his hand back.
Our entrees came and we quietly enjoyed our meals, taking turns sampling from each other’s plate, as if something momentous had not just occurred between us. The food was divine, but the energy humming between us was phenomenal. After our admissions, the connection between us grew stronger, more intense, the chemistry between us sparking back and forth. The silence, while not awkward at all, was filled with increasingly heated looks and occasional brushes of fingertips over the table. Soon, the temperature in the room began to feel stifling. I would have ordered another cocktail, but I didn’t want to be in any way drunk on alcohol. I was intoxicated enough on his magnetism. I wanted to remember every detail of that night so I could replay it in my head over and over again.