“Then why are you on a date with him?” Chris contends.
Chris’ bold question catches me off guard, leaving me temporarily speechless. The last thing I want to do is lie, but I don’t owe him any explanation either. I can’t believe this is happening to me right now.
Chris turns and extends his hand to Joe. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then, loud enough for Joe to hear him, Chris discloses to me, “I hope you’ll give me a chance too.” He kisses my cheek before walking away.
I take a moment to compose myself and then move to sit down.
Joe helps me into my seat without saying anything at first, but then makes it even more awkward when he rounds the table to his chair. “Nice guy.”
I glare at him for a moment before taking a huge gulp of wine. “He’s okay.”
“Good actor,” Joe adds.
“Mmm hmm,” I agree, trying to maintain self control by taking another large sip of wine.
“He’s the Chris who Nathan was teasing you about and the one getting the custom suit?”
“Yes,” I quickly confirm, wanting to move on from the topic.
Joe nods his understanding. “Well, if you do go on a date with him, let me know.”
I’m puzzled by his statement. Is he trying to torture me?
“I don’t plan on it, but why?”
“So I can get the first kiss of the date.” A wry smile forms on Joe’s face.
He’s not offended or uncomfortable by what just happened?
“I’ll consider it,” I reply, still in shock to his laid back manner. My body relaxes a little at his joke.
I appreciate him not taking offense to the whole situation and trying to help us both move on.
Joe and I have finished seven dishes of our nine-course meal and our conversation after the incident with Chris was a little awkward, but only for a few minutes.
When our eighth dish arrives, Joe surprises me. “So what do you want to know about Hawaii?”
“This isn’t dessert.”
“I know, but you’ve been a good sport about the whole date thing. Thought I’d show a little bit of mercy.”
I pause to think about what I want to ask. “Why won’t Henry let me pay for my share of the trip? I know he’s said the same thing to Jared and Nathan, but I just don’t understand. I can easily afford my portion of the trip.”
“Well . . . Why did you give Jared, Maggie and Nathan Teslas?”
“What does that have to do with this?”
A soft chuckle escapes his mouth. “A lot.”
“How?”
“Even though your friends can buy their own cars, you still went ahead and gave them as gifts anyway.”
“They were business deductions.”
“Yes, perhaps . . . then why haven’t you purchased vehicles for the rest of your staff whether they are employees or independent contractors?” Joe doesn’t give me a chance to really think about his question or answer before he continues. “Aside from the logical business side of it, you care deeply for your friends. You want them safe and happy.”
“That’s different,” I contend.
“How so?”
“I didn’t buy a car for any of my friends’ friends. Just my friends.”
“True. But, Henry believes his actions of including the three of you are an extension of his love for Maggie.”
“Don’t say the L word . . .” I request which gets Joe to laugh. “And, I don’t see the connection.”
I honestly don’t or my subconscious is deliberately avoiding it.
Joe laughs at my contention. “You love Jared, right?”
There he is using the L word. Does he think that his cute smile will suffice and making up for him saying it again?
“Of course. He’s my family.”
“And you would do anything for him?”
“Without a doubt. There is no question,” I affirm.
“And, the same is for Henry with Maggie. Money is just a resource to aid in their happiness together. The money provides choices and opportunities. It’s not a matter of whether you or anyone else can afford the same things. It’s a matter of enjoying life with each other.”
I bob my head back and forth while trying to wrap my head around his statement. I don’t agree, but I also don’t disagree.
Probably seeing the debate in my face, Joe continues his explanation. “Why did you put money behind Nathaniel’s?”
“Because it made sense as a business investment,” I quickly admit as a knee-jerk reaction.
“Then why haven’t you put money behind other fashion designers?”
I raise my brow, starting to see the connection though I don’t dare admit it.
“It’s not just about the investment. There are other designers with just as much potential and ability.”
“True,” I agree.
“It’s because you love Nathan and would do anything to see him happy and pursuing his dream. Your money is the tool that has provided him opportunities that he might not have had otherwise.”
“I guess so,” I unwillingly agree, accepting his clarification.
“Does it make you happy seeing Nathan happy?”
“Yes.”
“It makes Henry happy to see Maggie happy. It doesn’t matter if it costs money or not to him. That’s what you do when you love someone.”
“I told you not to use the L word,” I complain.
Joe just laughs.
“Besides . . . what do you know about . . . love?” It takes a few seconds for the last word to escape my mouth.
“Plenty. I have parents and three brothers who are happily married.”
“But, have you had your own experience to validate these statements and what people do when they are in . . . ?” I can’t bring myself to say the word again.
“Perhaps . . . but, it shouldn’t matter.”
“Perhaps yes or perhaps no?” I investigate.
“Perhaps . . .” he comments with a wicked smile.
I shake my head in disagreement over the statement about love. I still can’t believe that Maggie and Henry have been saying they love each other already. The thought of love and Henry’s gesture bothers me, but I refrain from asking any further questions. I got my answer even though I don’t like it.
Before leaving the restaurant, Joe and I finish with a bowl of creme brûlée each as our dessert. Good thing the portion sizes have been small or else I would have had to stop when our fifth plate was served. I excuse myself to use the ladies room for a second time and am relieved when I don’t see Chris sitting anywhere. Checking my phone on my way back to Joe, I’m shocked to see that it’s almost ten at night. We were eating and chatting for over three hours.
“Ready to go?” Joe stands as I approach the table.
“What about the bill?”
I know he’s going to insist on paying, but a girl can still try.
Offering his arm, Joe ignores my question and says, “Let’s go.”
Back inside the glorious Rolls Royce, Joe and I settle in quickly. The drive back to Pasadena is peaceful and relaxing. Just after the car exits onto Colorado Boulevard from the One-Thirty-Four, the driver pulls into a dark parking lot where there are only two lights nearby that are coming from a building. Joe gets out first and reaches his hand to assist me.
I know exactly where we are.
“What are we doing here?”
“A late night private viewing. You had mentioned that you’ve been wanting to come back.” Joe takes my hand, draping it over his arm as he leads me to the front door.
Joe remembered my statement when Henry, Maggie, he and I were driving around Pasadena almost a month ago? Wow. I had said so many different things that day.
“You know the museum is closed, right?”
“Not for us,” he insists.
An older gentleman standing just inside the large glass doors bows as we approach. “Good evening Mr. Covelli.”
“Let me guess, your family knows someone
,” I tease into his ear.
“No. But, they’re very accommodating for a more than generous benefactor of the foundation.”
“Of course,” I agree.
I should have known or expected this.
Mr. Brookes, the gentleman who greeted us, directs us through the exquisite Norton Simon Museum. He stays in each room with us to answer any questions we may have, but keeps his distance as not to intrude. Other than Mr. Brookes, Joe and I are alone as we soak in the marvelous masterpieces of paintings and sculptures.
The museum houses more than twelve thousand works of art, but only displays roughly a thousand between the galleries and the outdoor gardens. Other than two temporary exhibit sections, the rest of the stunning artwork ranges from Asian Art, European Art from the fourteenth through the nineteenth centuries, and modern and contemporary art from all around the world and some even from California. Many of the pieces were all original owned by Mr. Norton Simon who was an industrialist. He later joined the original museum board of directors and assisted in reshaping the structure of the company as well as donating his entire collection.
Joe follows me through the museum, always keeping one of his hands on the small of my back. The warmth of his body is invigorating and my body leans in on occasion desiring more.
Standing by Pablo Picasso’s Woman with a Book, Joe places his hands on my waist and states, “This one reminds me of you.”
I blush at the sensation of the hum of his voice in my ear. Our bodies remain more closely connected for the rest of the time at the museum, savoring the moment.
Arriving back at my apartment, Joe insists on walking me all the way up to my door. He says it’s the gentlemanly thing to do on a date. I wouldn’t know if he’s telling the truth or not since this is technically my first date ever.
For some strange reason, right after we get to my door, I lean into him and kiss him on the cheek. I’ve never kissed him on the cheek let alone put my lips anywhere on his body like this.
“Thank you,” I comment.
Joe’s body is rigid and it takes him a moment to blink before asking, “For what?”
“For a great first date.”
“So, you really have never been on a date before?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe we can have many more firsts together,” he presses with a widening grin.
“Don’t push your luck,” I contend. “If they involve breaking any more of my rules, no way.”
“Which ones have we broken?” Joe takes a step closer.
Not sure if I want to answer, I hesitantly reply, “The fact that you know right where I live.” I pause not wanting to admit the other one.
“And . . .” he searches, staking another step.
“I don’t know if I want to tell you.”
If he knows I’ve already let him in more than other men, this could get really weird.
“I know,” he states with a twinkle in his eye.
“No, you don’t,” I challenge.
He moves in closer, our bodies are flush. “Tonight . . . our date,” he whispers.
My body instantly tenses at his words. Suddenly, before my brain registers anything, Joe’s lips press to mine with a silky, defined force. We don’t move as we both breathe in and out several times through our noses. Joe pulls away, and my mouth follows his, only to be met again with more intensity this time. Everything moves in slow motion as my hands instinctually sliding up each muscular ridge of his stomach and chest. His right hand drops down my side, pulling me further into him as our lips temporarily separate. Returning his mouth to mine, Joe groans into my slightly opened mouth as he gentle presses his tongue inward. For some strange reason, my tongue reaches for his. Aware of where this is going after the third contact with his tongue, I push my hands against his chest and shake my head. His mouth hovers as his forehead rests on mine.
“Just friends, Joe,” I barely sigh on an exhale.
He doesn’t argue or fight — he just stays touching me, holding me.
My body craves him — it needs him — it wants him. It’s demanding his body on mine. I see it and feel it when we’re together, but I can’t give in. I have rules, rules that protect me and keep me safe from being hurt.
He gently kisses me again, holding his lips to mine for as long as I let him. I finally convince my body to listen and my lips slowly peel away after about five seconds.
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
His words provoke my yearning for him.
“Goodnight, Joe.”
Sixteen
The past four days since my date with Joe have been normal, as normal can be for my life. Joe texts and calls on occasion, and even tries to get me to agree to another date. I obviously decline for many reasons. I’m finding too much temptation.
I took Joe’s suggestion about creating the Raven Media cloud base system software I built from he ground up into a sellable product for other companies that enable their staff the ease and flexibility my associates perform for clients. When I mention it to Maggie and Jared, they are ecstatic and excited at the potential. Two of my contractors with Raven are software developers who helped me build the initial software, so I’ve commissioned them to assist with the expansion and redesign. We’ll test the first software version in a couple of months and we’ve already named it Raven 1.0. If all goes well, I’ll be upgrading my server needs with my hosting company. I’m starting to consider the idea of purchasing my own servers in the future which would provide added security and profit for Raven Media.
When I told Joe about moving forward with his idea, he offered to put me in contact with a variety of businesses that would benefit from Raven 1.0 immediately. He said that his family’s companies would be the first clients on the list. Joe was impressed with my idea of expanding Raven media into hosting and securities services and mentioned he knew a number of people who could supply a facility and computer hardware. I’m guessing that this might be the first area of technology that Joe wants to venture into, which makes sense. I don’t have enough funding to purchase a property as well as the needed hardware and staff, but I’m sure we can work out a fair and equitable business contract once it’s time to take action.
With Hawaii only a week away, my friends and I are staying local for our upcoming weekend gathering. Apparently, Joe has moved to accommodate his brother, Jimmy, and Jimmy’s boyfriend Allen, who flew back with him after Easter. Joe bought or is renting a place large enough to sleep everyone and is insisting on being the host. I’m curious to see where he’s living and how much he’s paying to fit all of us comfortably. I never bothered to ask where he was living prior to finding out that he’s moved. The few times I text him during the past few days inquiring about where his new place is located, Joe just writes back you’ll see. I remind him that I’m not one who likes surprises, but he just ignores me and doesn’t even offer a clue. Each time he responds I only get a LOL and smiley emoticon. When I try to find out from Jared or Maggie, they claim that they don’t know either. I don’t believe them and worry about my speculations.
Maggie and Henry pick Sadie and me up at my apartment Friday in the late afternoon. My knee habitually begins shaking as the car enters the streets and I look out the window to see where we’re going. I don’t think much about where we might be headed until Henry pulls into a building across from the Arclight Theater in Pasadena.
“Are we stopping somewhere first?” I ask as Henry pulls into a valet area.
“No. Where here,” Maggie states.
“Where?” I probe.
“Joe’s place. He bought the penthouse,” Maggie answers, clueing me in.
Confusion and horror flood my mind as my brain tries to comprehend what Maggie just said. What? Are you serious? He bought a place here? In Pasadena? This is exactly why I don’t tell men where I live. Damn it. Damn him.
I sit staring at the back of the seat in front of me as Henry and Maggie get out of the car and retrieve the bags out of the trunk. At so
me point, someone opens the car door to let me out, but I don’t notice until Maggie interrupts my internal hysteria.
“You coming?” she checks.
I remain speechless the entire time we are greeted by the doorman and ride the elevator up to Joe’s floor. Maggie and Henry don’t seem to notice my irritation as they practically make out the entire time.
Why did they bother to pick me up? I could have walked since we’re less than a mile from my apartment building. Why didn’t Maggie say anything about Joe moving to Pasadena? I know why. They know I wouldn’t have shown up or, if I did, I would be sleeping at my own place each night. They both suck right now. Wait! Jared and Nathan suck too. They are on their way and never mentioned it either. What the hell is happening?
The elevator door dings open to a small foyer that contains large, wooden double doors in front of us that are adorned with two small matching console tables and wall mirrors on either side. When the door opens, we are greeted by an older, dark-haired woman wearing a maid’s uniform who recognizes Henry right away.
“Mr. Henry, come right in. Mr. Joseph said he was expecting you,” she instructs with a distinct Russian accent.
“Thank you, Anna,” Henry returns ushering Maggie and myself to go first. “This is Maggie and Emma.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maggie and Ms. Emma. Please, leave your bags here. I’ll see that they are tended to,” Anna greets warmly. “Who is this four-legged beauty?”
“Sadie,” I offer.
“Ah, Ms. Sadie. Is there anything you might need for her while you are here?” she inquires while petting Sadie.
“No. Thank you. I have all of her stuff here,” I disclose, pointing to one of my bags. “If you tell me where the kitchen is, I can put her food away.”
“I’d be happy to take care of that for you,” Anna insists.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose,” I reply.
“Anything for you, Ms. Emma,” she states with a warm smile.
“Okay,” I happily accept.
“Follow me,” Anna instructs, leading the way with a brisk pace. When Anna reaches the end of the long hallway about five seconds before us, she announces, “Ms. Maggie, Ms. Emma, Ms. Sadie and Mr. Henry are here.”
Just Breathe Series (Trilogy Box Set) Page 22
