License to Date (Better Date than Never)

by Hatler, Susan

  Thanks. I typed back, then popped up to make a dash to my closet when I heard my cell ping again.

  PS Don’t forget the lip-gloss. Judging from that photo, you’ll need it.

  Quickly, I typed back: He’s just bringing tile over to show me. It’s for the remodel.

  Although I reassured myself this visit was only for the good of my house, I searched through my makeup drawer for my lip-gloss then slid it over my lips.

  Just in case.

  Chapter Six

  The wall clock read nine o’clock when my doorbell rang for the second time. Even though it wasn’t a date, just a chance to acquire tile at a discounted price, I’d tried on and discarded multiple outfits until a mountain of clothes sat where my bed should be. I shut my bedroom door to cover the chaos, then hurried to the front door wearing a sleeveless top and black capris.

  I pulled open my front door, then felt an unexpected jolt through my chest when Paul’s mesmerizing eyes stared back at me. “H-Hi.”

  “Hi.” His mouth curved up and he handed me what looked like a very expensive bottle of wine. “For your nightly tradition of wine by your dock.”

  I bit my bottom lip, touched that he’d remembered my favorite routine. “Except I’ve been on hiatus due to dating week.”

  He winked at me. “Maybe it’s time you got back on track.”

  “My life’s perfectly on track.” Not. Everything about Paul had thrown my world completely off track. But his coming over was purely platonic and he’d brought over a bottle of wine so how rude would it be not to offer him some? “Thank you for the wine. Should I get us some glasses?”

  “Sounds good.” He followed me to the kitchen, dropped a small black bag on the counter, then surveyed the kitchen and the living room since it was an open floor plan. “I like your place.”

  “Thanks.” I loved my open floor plan and vaulted ceilings, but my eyes zeroed in on all the work that needed to be done—new light fixtures, hardwood floors that needed refinishing, and especially the exposed walls that needed texturing and paint. “It’ll be even better after this weekend.”

  He smirked. “Right. Free labor.”

  “Exactly.” I opened one of the cupboards, pulled out two wine glasses, then fished in a drawer for the wine opener. “Must be hard living in a hotel. Are you looking for your own place?”

  His face registered a strange look. “I’m comfortable for now.”

  “But it can’t be homey living in a hotel, even one as nice as the Geoffries.” I twisted the screw into the brown cork. “And it must be expensive. I hope they’re giving you an employee discount.”

  He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must’ve changed his mind because he closed it, waited several seconds, then shrugged. “It’s affordable.”

  His tone suggested he was holding something back, but I didn’t want to pry. Plus, I was having trouble getting the cork to come out so that took all my concentration. I tugged and tugged to no avail.

  “Let me.” Paul eased around the counter and came up behind me. But instead of taking the bottle, he reached around me and placed his hands over mine.

  “I forgot you’re a professional,” I said, barely able to get the words out since I was trying not to hyperventilate from the warmth of his chin against the side of my cheek, and the delicious scent of his spicy aftershave that I wanted to bottle up and keep. “How long have you been bartending?”

  “Not long.” He wiggled the cork out of the bottle with a gentle pop. “What line of work are you in?”

  I made the mistake of glancing up behind me where Paul’s gorgeous blues were intent on mine and our mouths were mere centimeters apart. My stomach flipped and I had the strong urge to press my mouth to his. Instead, I stepped aside. “I’m the H.R. Manager at Woodward Systems Corp downtown.”

  He nodded, then poured the burgundy wine. “H.R. seems like the perfect fit for you.”

  “How so?” I said, curious as to what he thought of me.

  Handing me a glass, he said, “You seem like a woman who follows the rules and likes things in order.” Then the side of his mouth curved upward and an adorable dimple formed. “At least most of the time.”

  Definitely not right now since every part of me wanted to break all my rules, slip my arms around Paul, and pick up where we’d left off in that photo. That would so not be for the remodel. “May I see the tile now?”

  “First show me the area by the dock where you want to use it. So I can make sure we have enough leftover tiles to cover the space.” His eyes glinted mischievously, then he lifted his wine glass up. “To your remodel and making your home exactly the way you want it.”

  I clinked my glass to his. “Thank you.”

  His eyes held mine as he brought his glass to his mouth.

  I watched him as I sipped, remembering how his mouth had felt against mine. A shiver ran through me. No! I would not let myself fall under his spell. Focus, Kaitlin. F.O.C.U.S.

  My mouth curved up into a polite smile. “Shall we go?”

  He smiled back, then lifted the small black bag over his shoulder. “Lead the way.”

  Wine in hand, I strode through my living room to the sliding door, then slipped my toes into my flip-flops. I turned on the backyard lights, then Paul fell in line beside me as we walked across my lawn then down the railroad-tie steps, lit on either side by tiny lampposts. We made our way to the base edge of my property by the river with my beloved—and badly weathered—small wooden table and two Adirondack chairs.

  Bringing Paul to my happy place worried me. I’d always come alone before. What if I lost the magic by sharing it with him? But as soon as I saw the water, the peaceful feeling washed over me. I closed my eyes, savoring the serenity, then turned to find Paul studying me. “What do you think?”

  “It’s definitely special.” He turned to check out the area under the dim light of two large lampposts. A splay of rocks reached out toward the calm, glassy river. Bushes and trees scattered along either side of the water. “I can see why you love it here.”

  I smiled, then curled up in an Adirondack, and watched him. “Think there’s enough tile?”

  “Should be plenty.” He made long strides across the perimeter as if taking measurements, then he sat next to me and pulled out a gorgeous, terra-cotta tile from his bag. “I assume you want to cover this entire rectangular area over the dead grass?”

  “That’s the plan.” Turning toward him, I ran my fingers over the smooth, earthy surface. “It’s beautiful and looks expensive. I’m not sure I’ll be able to afford it.”

  “Don’t worry.” He winked. “The hotel gives me a great discount.”

  I set the tile on the small table between us. “Since this week is the last of my dating deal, I’m also on my own for figuring out how to lay tile.”

  He twisted toward me. “I know a contractor who would make you a good deal. Let me look into it.”

  “That’s really nice of you to help me out, Paul.” Yeah, too nice. There had to be something wrong with this guy. “What’s your worst flaw?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “You trying to paint me as a bad guy?”

  “Just trying to figure you out.” Nice. Charming. Handsome. And an amazing kisser. No guy could be this perfect. He was probably like every other man who seemed great at first, then as soon as you dug deeper you found out he’d been dating your sister on the side. “Take your last girlfriend, for example. What was her biggest complaint about you?”

  His grin deepened. “Virna? We’re still friends. Do you want to call and ask her?”

  “No, I don’t want to call Virna.” What kind of name was that, anyway? The only Virna I’d ever heard of was the one who had won an Oscar last year for her role in that blockbuster flick about the domestically abused woman. “You must have done something wrong with Virna. Why else would you two break-up?”

  His face sobered. “She wanted a ring, but I couldn’t marry her. She’s a wonderful person, just not who I sa
w spending my life with.”

  “Oh.” That sounded so . . . reasonable. I removed a speck of lint on my pants, then lifted my lashes.

  He tilted his head. “Why did you and your ex break-up?”

  My spine stiffened, but it was a fair question since I’d asked the same about him.

  I took a deep breath. “Paul cheated on me. With my sister. But she didn’t know he and I were together. I found out about them at my bachelorette party.” To maintain my composure, I forced a small chuckle, then lifted my glass. “Not exactly the fairytale ending I’d imagined.”

  “I’m sorry.” He watched me sip my drink, but didn’t laugh at my joke. “How long has it been?”

  I swallowed, staring at the sliver of wine left in my glass. “Four and a half months.”

  His gaze held mine and his voice softened. “I can see how that would make you adverse to dating again.”

  My throat tightened and the understanding apparent in his deep, blue eyes caused the block around my heart to wiggle. Not good. “Yeah, well. Three more dates and I’m done.”

  My voice sounded resolute, but my mind whispered that Paul could be different.

  No way. He had to be hiding something. Hmm. . . Mother-in-laws were notoriously scary. “Was your mom disappointed you didn’t marry Virna?”

  He ran his fingers over a loose strand of hair that had fallen along my cheek, then tapped my nose playfully. “My mom understood and they still keep in touch.”

  “Really?” His mom must be seriously sweet to keep in contact with his ex. Huh.

  “You sound surprised.” He set his empty glass down then leaned across the table, his knuckles brushing my elbow. “Like you were hoping to find dark skeletons.”

  Tingles prickled up my arm. “Hoping is a strong word.”

  Yet, an accurate one.

  He smiled, then his face grew serious. “When I commit myself to a woman for the rest of my life, it’s going to be for the right reasons. I’ll spend every day proving to her I know how lucky I am to have her.”

  A zing zipped through me.

  He tucked the loose strand behind my ear. “My parents were in love their entire marriage. I won’t settle for anything less.”

  I could see passion in his eyes when he spoke. I could feel the solid heat, too. But he’d said “were.” “Your parents aren’t together anymore?”

  Divorced like mine. And half the other marriages out there. Figured.

  “My dad died three months ago.” Emotion filled his voice and he stood, holding out his hand. “I moved up here to be close to my mom. To take care of her.”

  “I’m so sorry.” My throat tightened and I slipped my hand into his. My mind raced as we walked slowly toward the water. “Was there . . . an accident?”

  “Heart failure as a result of his diabetes.” He stopped at the water’s edge, laced his fingers through mine, then turned to me. “It meant a lot to me to rappel down that building with you. In more ways than one.”

  I squeezed my hand against his. “It meant a lot to me, too.”

  Standing close together, we gazed into each other’s eyes, and my heart ached for his loss. He’d so clearly loved his dad. Guilt flooded through me over keeping my dad at a distance since he and my mom divorced. Even if he lived out of state, I was lucky to still have him and should appreciate that each and every day.

  Paul rocked our hands gently back and forth. “So you like the tile?”

  I nodded. “Love it. Thanks for bringing it over.”

  He stared at me, brushing my cheek with his other hand. “You’re welcome.”

  Those gorgeous eyes were making my stomach do floppy things again. No, I couldn’t fall for him. But I so wanted to. . . .

  My heart rate kicked up and I sucked in a breath. “We should probably head up.”

  “Good idea.” The corner of his mouth turned up and he released my hand, then tapped my nose again.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. Close call. Way too close. As Paul put the tile back in his bag, I gathered our glasses and realized something. I turned toward him accusingly, and gestured with the glass I held. “At the Geoffries, you told me you’d rappelled down a building before.”

  Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he smirked. “You asked me if I’d rappelled before and I said you were in good hands. And you were.”

  We started walking and I bumped my shoulder into his teasingly. “That’s totally playing with words.”

  “Yet still the truth.” He laughed as he opened the sliding door so I could pass through. “You made it down safely, didn’t you?”

  “Barely,” I said, immediately thinking of our kiss. The kiss that had been uploaded to the Internet. I wondered if he’d seen the article.

  He closed the door behind us. “Next time I’ll make sure it’s more than barely.”

  I smiled over my shoulder then set the glasses on the kitchen counter. “Next time I’ll make sure not to date a man with a weak stomach.”

  “Who is lucky date number three?” He toyed with the cork on the counter as he waited for my answer.

  “Kyle Harper?” Hearing myself say it as a question made me laugh. “My friend Ellen set me up.”

  His brows came together. “What do you know about him?”

  I walked Paul to the door, then turned the handle. “I know he’s getting me one day closer to free labor, which is all I need to know.”

  A look of relief crossed his face and he stepped through the doorway and onto the porch mat before turning back. “How is your friend Kristen doing? She going to be able to help you this weekend?”

  I leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m not sure. I didn’t return messages this evening. My sister, Melanie, came over before you and brought me that vase as a housewarming gift.”

  His eyes flicked over my shoulder toward the gorgeous sea-foam blue vase. “You’ve had a busy night. I should let you get some rest.”

  “Thanks again for bringing over the tile.” I smiled appreciatively then tapped the black bag he was holding. “Let me know when you hear back about the cost.”

  “I will.” His gaze held mine as he stepped forward, cupped my face with both hands, then brushed his thumbs over my cheeks. “You have a nice date tomorrow night.”

  My heart pounded and a rush of butterflies stormed my belly. “Okay,” I whispered.

  Then he leaned forward slowly and pressed his mouth to mine. My heart fluttered as he brushed feathery-soft kisses across my lips, so warm and gentle a small sound escaped me and I felt light-headed.

  With one final sweet kiss he pulled away. “Good night.”

  “Good night.” I bit my bottom lip as he walked toward the curb, then I closed the door and leaned back against the hard surface.

  I’d tried to prove that Paul wasn’t perfect and had failed miserably.

  My heart was so in trouble.

  Chapter Seven

  I arrived at work Wednesday morning and found Ellen Holbrook waiting in my office—more like sleeping, actually. She wore a peach button-up maternity dress that showed off her adorable baby bump. Her eyes were closed and her hand rested protectively over her ballooning belly.

  Seeing her wedding ring sparkle on her finger caused that image of Paul wearing a tuxedo to pop into my head. His gorgeous blues and his flirty personality had been all I could think about until last night. Now all I could think about was his feathery-soft kisses that made me melt.

  And made my nerves go on red alert.

  Clearing my throat loudly, I sat at my desk. “Good morning, Ellen.”

  Her eyes popped open, and she brought a hand to her cheek. “Kaitlin? Sorry, I must’ve dozed off.”

  I chuckled. “Baby kicking all night again?”

  Her mouth stretched into a smile. “Yes, he’s going to be quite the soccer player.”

  “You found out the sex?” I’d thought they’d decided to wait.

  “No, I just meant he as in the baby, in general. Henry thinks it’ll be fun
to be surprised and I don’t want to ruin that for him.” Her mouth went tight. “Not like he’s the one who’s going to have a baby shower with only gender-neutral colors, though.”

  “I, uh . . .” I blinked, stunned. I’d never heard Ellen utter a single negative word about her hubby. He sounded so perfect I thought he was fictional. Her lack of sleep must be getting to her. That or hormones. “What can I help you with?”

  “The FMLA paperwork for my maternity leave.” She pushed a small stack of papers toward me. “And Kristen.”

  My eyes shot up from the paperwork. Kristen had left me a voicemail last night ranting that if Ellen didn’t get off her back about her mother she might lose it. “Don’t tell me the engagement is off. I know she’s been stressing—”

  “It’s still on for eighteen months from now. That’s the problem.” She straightened, tried crossing her legs over her bubble belly several times, then finally gave up. “We have to convince Kristen not to listen to her mother.”

  Since their close friendship went way back to high school, I knew Ellen meant well. But Kristen’s voicemail made it clear she wanted Ellen to lay off. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  Ellen stared at me like I’d grown a third head. “Kristen’s mom cares more about where they get married than her daughter marrying the man she loves. It’s all about appearances, not marriage.”

  “Her mom may be difficult,” I said, thinking of my own mother, “but she loves Kristen and only wants her wedding to be as beautiful as possible. Eighteen months isn’t that long.”

  Ellen huffed. “It could be a lifetime. We have no guarantees in life.”

  Even Paul’s parents’ time together had been cut short, but that wasn’t the point. “She doesn’t want to hurt her mom. I think we should respect her decision.”

  She scoffed. “If I’d listened to my own mom, I’d still be online dating instead of with the love of my life.”

  Yikes. That would’ve been a tragedy since they were the perfect couple (minus the baby-gender decision). “Kristen’s mom isn’t against Ethan. She just wants the best wedding for them.”

  Ellen shook her head. “She wants the best appearance and, yes, the Geoffries ballroom is amazing. I’d looked into renting the room as well, but declined due to the wait list. There are plenty of other perfectly acceptable wedding locations that are booking only two months out. I know because that’s what I did last year.”