“If you took all your dates out like this, you’d be married by now.” The noise inside the earphones was tinny and full of the sound of wind.
“Getting married requires more than a helicopter ride.”
“Women can be crafty. You should watch out.”
“For other women?”
She nodded and glanced at the city fast approaching.
“I’m on a date with you and you’re talking about other women.”
She glanced over her shoulder and caught his shocked eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look. We will get along a whole lot better if you don’t pretend you don’t date often.”
Shock gave way to acceptance.
Mary turned back to her window. “Lying is a deal breaker, Glen. I think you should know that.”
“Then I won’t lie.”
She took in his chiseled jaw once again. “What about you? Any deal breakers?”
He opened his mouth—
“No, let me guess.”
He closed it.
“Users.”
He pointed one finger in the air and smiled.
The Top of the Mark sat on Nob Hill in the Mark Hopkins Hotel. The view of the city was remarkable. Other than a helicopter hovering over, this was the best view money could buy.
The lounge had a fair number of guests with an accomplished pianist entertaining the room.
The first course of their evening would take place here.
Glen requested a view of the Golden Gate Bridge and smiled as he sat across from Mary to enjoy it.
“Wow.”
“My favorite West Coast city,” Glen confessed.
“I can see why.”
“Don’t tell me this is your first time.”
Mary quickly shook her head. “No. There was a conference of therapists that brought me here a few years ago. I didn’t get out of the hotel much to explore the city, I’m afraid.”
He couldn’t help but wonder if the conference was held with a bunch of red sofas in the meeting halls instead of tables and chairs. Why he assumed every therapist had a red couch, he couldn’t say.
“That’s too bad. There are a lot of things to do here.”
They ordered more wine and a couple of appetizers.
“What do you do when you’re here?” she asked.
“Depends on the occasion and who I’m with.”
She questioned him with her eyes.
“My brother Jason and I are here a few times a year to check on our satellite office. There are usually dinners involved, sometimes a little elbow rubbing with certain business owners.”
“Define elbow rubbing,” she said while sipping her wine.
“Like the building we landed on in the business district. There is a bit of a war going on here when it comes to helicopter traffic. We try and have access to as many helipads as we can, which requires us to hold relationships with the owners of the buildings, sometimes the prominent tenants of those buildings. While Jason and I don’t actively look for people to use our service, it never hurts to have some of the top companies know what we can provide.”
“Putting a face to a name.”
“Exactly. Elbow rubbing can mean dinner, drinks, or rounds of golf.”
“Do you golf?”
“If you’re asking if I can hold a club and hit the ball, yes . . . if you are asking if that ball ever goes in a hole, then no.”
Mary’s chuckle started slow and built. “Let me guess, you’re good at basketball.”
“Now that ball I can dunk.” He joined her laughter. “Football on occasion.”
She shook her head. “I remember Thanksgiving. Halftime game in the yard and you all came in holding a body part and grabbing beer.”
“It is a contact sport. What about you . . . any sports?”
“My constant movement as a kid kept me away from anything formal in school. I always wanted to ice-skate, but there wasn’t a rink close by . . . and lessons were never going to happen.”
“What about as an adult, find anything you enjoy doing now?”
“I love the ocean, but I’ve never surfed. Swimming always energizes me. I don’t know . . . there are a lot of things out there I haven’t tried. Haven’t thought much about it.”
Glen wondered if there was anything out there he hadn’t tried. He suddenly felt very privileged.
“Do you like museums?”
Her eyes lit up. “Love them, you?”
“Nope . . . well, does the Hard Rock museum count?”
Her shoulders deflated a tad. “What about walking tours of a new city?”
“I don’t think I’ve done that.”
“New Orleans is on my bucket list. They have graveyard tours, ghost tours, Garden District tours.”
“Sounds like you’ve been there.”
“Nope. Bucket list. Dakota and I travel really well together. I usually scope out where her conferences are and plan a few things for us to do outside of her classes and signings.”
Glen didn’t see that staying the same now that Dakota had Walt and the two of them were recent parents.
“Do you both have a trip planned?”
Mary shook her head. “The spring conference happened last week. She obviously couldn’t go.”
“Let me guess, it was scheduled in New Orleans.”
A flash of disappointment crossed her eyes. “It will come around again. And if not, we can go another time, or I’ll find a way to go myself.”
He opened his mouth to offer to help and she put her index finger in the air. “No. Thanks, but no.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to. And I would never take you up on it.”
We’ll see about that.
Glen went from supersnazzy, over-the-top fancy to Fisherman’s Wharf, where the two of them were entirely overdressed. But Mary loved it.
He pulled her into what looked like a fish and chips shack and said they were having another course there. “Best clam chowder in the city.”
And it was.
They walked through the crowd toward the bay. The wrap she’d brought for her dress wasn’t doing the job and the first gust of wind had Glen placing his jacket over her shoulders.
When he directed her into a swanky restaurant with an up-close view of the bay, she took a minute and excused herself to the ladies’ room.
Her hair was a mess . . . well, it was always unruly, but the moist air and wind had done a proper job of making it crazy. She tamed it the best she could, reapplied a little lip gloss, and stood back. She was smiling. Her cheeks were rosy, from the wind or the company, she couldn’t really say. Both, she guessed.
Before leaving the ladies’ room she sent a quick text to Dakota.
I’m in San Francisco having the best time.
She didn’t wait for a reply and put her phone back in her purse.
Once again, Glen had procured a table with the perfect view. More wine appeared, as did the waiter with the menus.
She glanced at the selections. “I honestly don’t know how much more I can eat.”
“I won’t be offended if you don’t finish.”
She put her menu down. “Then how about you order, and I’ll have a bite of yours.”
“Oh, no. I’ve played that game.”
“I’m serious. You’ve been feeding me since we got here.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look at her, just kept reading the menu.
“Really, Glen. I’m fine with the wine.”
“Uh-huh!”
The waiter reappeared.
Glen gave her one look, turned to the waiter, and ordered two filets mignons. “Medium rare?” he asked her.
He did not play fair. “Medium,” she corrected him.
He gave her an I won smile before completing their order.
“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”
“I ordered a salad to share.”
And they did. Halfway through her steak she gave up, and Glen finished it
for her.
He wrapped her in his jacket before they left the restaurant and let his hands linger on her shoulders for a couple of seconds longer than needed.
She warmed instantly.
“If I knew I was leaving Southern California, I would have been prepared.”
“If I had told you where we were going, it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”
And she did like the thrill of discovery.
When he opened the door to a waiting car, she slid in and said, “You’ve thought of everything.”
He settled back in his seat as the car took them in the direction of downtown.
“I’m kinda shocked,” he said.
“About what?”
“We didn’t cross hairs once. I think that’s a first for us.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I might have come to blows with the steak.”
“You ate half.”
She rolled her eyes. “At least you didn’t order dessert.”
He paused.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing . . . he still had something cooking. He really didn’t have a poker face.
“I hope you’ve had a good time.”
She hadn’t stopped smiling since he kissed her. A kiss he hadn’t repeated. He didn’t even reach for her hand or let his palm linger too long on the small of her back.
“Are you kidding? The face on the waiter when we told him where we were from . . . and that you flew to meet me, picked me up . . . flew us here, a helicopter. I think the guy thought we were full of crap. That alone was worth the tale.”
“It is a little over-the-top,” he admitted.
She wanted to question him more on why he’d taken such extreme measures for this date, but the car stopped at the curb of the building they’d flown to in the helicopter.
They walked along the now familiar path to the elevators, where an attendant greeted and escorted them to the roof.
Glen shook the pilot’s hand and helped Mary into the passenger seat. She put on the earphones without being instructed. It was full dark, and the lights of the city directly contrasted the darkness of the bay.
“It’s simply stunning,” she said once the helicopter lifted into the air.
“I understand Trent’s affinity for choppers.”
It was well known that Monica’s husband, Trent, loved flying helicopters. According to Dakota, all the Fairchild men knew how, but unlike his brothers, Trent almost never sat in the passenger seat of a chopper.
“What does it take to learn to fly?”
“Study . . . practice. Why? Is that on the Mary bucket list?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Is that Alcatraz?” She changed subjects and pointed out the window.
“I believe so. Have you been?”
She quickly shook her head. “No, and don’t care to. I do not need to see the inside of a prison.”
Glen’s laughter filled her headset.
They were no sooner in the air than they touched down on the tarmac and were shuffled into the plane they’d arrived on.
Instead of wine, Glen handed her coffee once the plane was in the air. Added to that, there was the warm smell of chocolate as he handed her what looked like a piece of cake without frosting. “You’re killing me,” she told him.
“It’s small.”
“I hate working out.”
“Me too.”
He still handed her the cake and didn’t let her hand it back.
It was flaky and moist in the middle and practically melted in her mouth. “Oh, goodness . . . this is sinful.”
He paused as he watched her take another bite.
She noticed his lower lip open and the tip of his tongue peek out before he realized he was staring and pulled himself together. A perfectly female part of her did a little happy dance. She hadn’t meant to be enticing, yet here she was, capturing the attention of a charming, gorgeous man by simply eating her dessert.
Mary wiped the edges of her mouth and tried not to stare. “Why did you go through all this effort, Glen? I’d have been just as happy with a quiet meal in a nice place close to home.”
Her question pulled his gaze away from her lips and onto his own plate. It was his turn to shrug. “I think we’ve both been wanting this for a while. I wanted to make it count.”
Mary lifted both hands in the air. “Mission accomplished.”
He grinned, flashed a dimple on the left side of his face, and ate half his dessert in one bite. “Besides . . . a nice meal close to home would have ended hours ago,” he said around his food.
Mary actually put her fist to her chest. “How the heck can you be so charming and such a . . . a . . .”
“A what?”
She couldn’t put to words what she thought. “You stole Dakota’s monkey from me.”
“I touched it first.”
“I saw it first,” she said, laughing.
“And you thought I’d just give it up.”
“It would have been the chivalrous thing to do.”
“On a date, maybe . . . but don’t hold your breath . . . in a hospital gift shop. No way, babe. It’s like a Bluelight Special at Kmart. Every man for himself.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re too young to know about a Bluelight anything from Kmart.”
He finished the rest of his dessert and continued to talk while waving his spoon. “I saw a movie.”
Mary gave up on the chocolate, gave the rest to Glen, who happily devoured it. She enjoyed watching him eat and had to shake herself to look away.
“Did you get away with everything when you were a kid?”
“Trent got away with everything. Jason got away with nothing . . . I lingered in between.”
“Middle child syndrome. Did you try and fix things between your brothers . . . make your parents happy?” She was analyzing him, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Some.”
Hmm, the great negotiator. “So what exactly do you do at work?”
He hesitated and had a lingering smile as if he was surprised she’d asked. “I’m the CFO.”
She didn’t waver her stare.
“I work with a lot of finance in the company. I try and find ways of building the business, maintain parts that are lagging. Analyze what’s working.”
“Sounds like an imperative part of the company.”
He shrugged. “Jason was always bossy, Trent had a hard time following instructions, I had the numbers and schmoozing thing down.”
“It all worked out.”
“Yeah . . . I like what I do.”
Mary sat forward in her seat. “Did you pick it?”
“Chose my job?”
“Yeah . . . was it your decision, or did your father suggest that leg of the company to you at some point and you felt obligated to do it?”
Glen tilted his head as if questioning her question.
“You analyze everyone, don’t you?”
She was doing it again. “Occupational hazard. Forget I asked.”
This time Glen pushed his plate away and leveled his eyes to hers. “Shortly after our parents’ death, Jason, Trent, and I sat down . . . we got shitfaced drunk, and we talked about what we wanted to do. Trent was the most torn. Couldn’t do the desk. Said he needed to ease into the company. Jason spent the largest amount of time with our father in the office. He’d already been working with the company and knew more of the staff than any of us. I had a position, but it wasn’t CFO. I’d worked with our head of operations, and with his help, took on the position I now run.” He paused. “We all had a choice. Our father didn’t force anything on us and we were more than happy to jump in when we needed to.”
He delivered the information with very little emotion on his face. They were simply the facts that no longer bothered him to provide.
“Your parents must have been very proud of you all.”
Now he smiled. “We gave them a fair share of grief, but I
think we turned out all right.”
It was after midnight when Glen walked her up to the front door.
She turned and smiled. “Should I invite you in?”
He tilted his head for a second in thought and gave a quick shake. “If you invite me in, I won’t want to leave.”
Her whole body shivered with the meaning of his words. “Are you flying home tonight?”
“I have a room at The Morrison.”
“That’s silly. You’ve slept on my couch before, you can—”
Glen stepped into her personal space and brushed her chin with the backs of his fingers. “I don’t trust myself to stay on your sofa bed, Mary. And I don’t want you to think this night was about that.”
Mary wanted to analyze what the night was about, but her head was too fried to think that hard. “Okay.”
“However, I do want to kiss you again.”
It was as if he was asking. “Dessert before dinner, and after?”
“I like to indulge.”
Mary tilted her chin higher and rested a hand on his chest. “I had a wonderful time.”
“I did too.” He leaned closer. “You’re not nearly as uptight as I thought you’d be.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “And you’re not nearly as annoying as I thought you’d be.”
“A good start then.”
“Hmm.”
And then he was kissing her. The taste of coffee and chocolate mixed with Glen was edible. Unlike when he’d kissed her in the kitchen, this time he didn’t back away when she traced his lips with her tongue. He accepted her invitation and explored. Even at the late hour, or maybe because of it, her body tingled to life and moved to get closer. She hadn’t been kissed in a long time and enjoyed every second, every minute as he drew away and came back for more. She clawed into his shirt with one hand and felt the one holding her purse inch down his hips before Glen ended their make-out session on the porch.
They were smiling into each other’s eyes. “You should probably go before I invite you inside.”
“I probably should.” Only he didn’t walk away.
Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) Page 9
