by Diana Gardin
Where is she tonight? He wasn’t sure which club her stepfather owned, but he imagined her pouring drinks for customers in something short and tight. The thought aroused him but also sent a bolt of jealousy rushing through his nerve endings. He didn’t want other men looking at her while she was wearing something appropriate for tending bar.
Did that mean he wanted her all to himself? Now he wasn’t sure. He’d just told his father that settling down was the last thing he wanted. He’d seen what his parents had been through over the years, saw what completely loving a woman could do to a man. He didn’t want that to happen to him. It would kill him if he allowed that to happen. He couldn’t fall for someone just to find out she’d been with other men during their time together. He would never survive it; he knew that in his soul.
But Sunday was just going to be a date. He was just getting to know Hope; that was all. She compelled him in a way he couldn’t explain. He had to find out what put that despairing look in her eyes. Once again, the desire to be there for her hit him straight in the chest. He was powerless to resist it.
Twelve
Hope had told Frank and Wendy in no uncertain terms that none of her dates would, under any circumstances, be “upgraded.” And that if the subject came up again, she’d quit. She didn’t give a shit how popular she was among the clients. She couldn’t understand why they loved her so much anyway; her attitude was atrocious and she knew it. She viewed her own reflection in the mirror every day; she knew men considered her attractive. But compelling enough for men to want to date her in spite of her unwillingness to give them any more than a peck on the cheek at the end of the night? It was unfathomable.
Frank had observed her tirade with moderate interest, but Wendy was livid, calling Hope every name in her arsenal and screaming about how ungrateful she was, yet again. Wendy’s rants hardly affected her anymore, but Hope was terrified that her unstable mother would fly into a rage and really hurt Violet.
“Your aloofness only works well in my favor.” Frank had finally spoken when Hope ran out of steam. “My clients think they can win you over. They’re used to women falling all over themselves; you’re a breath of fresh air to them. And the fact that you’re beautiful and what they consider to be classy doesn’t hurt, either.”
Now, as Hope readied herself for her date with Reed, she glanced anxiously at her phone to check the time.
“Stop doing that,” ordered Violet. “It’s going to be fine. Mom and Frank are out, you’re not going to get caught going out with Reed.”
Violet was lounging on Hope’s bed, watching her get ready. She lay on her stomach lengthwise, her long and slender hands framing her face while she watched her sister apply her makeup.
“I wish I had your skin,” said Violet enviously. “You and your Latin hotness—it’s like a work of freaking art. All I got from my dad was Irish skin that turns me into a damn tomato in the sun. All of this paleness probably hurts guys’ eyes when they look at me.”
“Stop it,” ordered Hope. “You’re gorgeous. One day you’ll realize that you look like a model. And you have the brains to back it up. You’re a gift, Vi.”
“Sure,” Violet answered. “I’ll realize that just as soon as you do, Hope.”
Hope knew she was right. They both suffered from their own self-confidence issues, thanks to their jewel of a mother.
“No guy has ever wanted to take me out,” Violet continued.
“You’re thirteen!” exclaimed Hope, turning around to stare at her sister. “No guy should be wanting to take you out yet!”
Violet shot her a you-don’t-understand-at-all glare and changed the subject. “Where’s the rock god taking you?”
Laughing, Hope applied lip gloss to her sensuously full lips. “The ‘rock god’ wouldn’t say. He needs to learn that I hate surprises.”
“You mean, he needs to learn that you’re a control freak,” corrected Violet. “Let go a little. I think he really likes you.”
“You talked to him for what, ten minutes?” Hope squinted at her sister.
Violet’s face turned serious. She blinked her big gray eyes at Hope. “That was long enough. I like him. You do, too, I can tell. So let go, Hope. Just a little.”
Her little sister’s words resonated with Hope. Could she let go with Reed? It was something she’d never allowed herself to do, much less with a man. Only time would tell.
The doorbell’s chime echoed through the house, and Hope grabbed her clutch and ran for the door. Her wedges clicked on the hardwood as she descended the stairs, Violet quick on her heels.
When she opened the front double doors, Reed stood on the porch, looking for all the world like God’s gift to musical, manly perfection. He was casual in army green Dickies and a tight black T-shirt. His black boots were the same muted leather as the cuff that adorned his wrist and the wide belt at his waist. A shiny platinum buckle gleamed at her exactly where she shouldn’t be aiming her attention. His dark hair was a perfect mess, and his eyes sparkled at her when she finally dragged hers away from his taut body and up to meet them.
“Hi,” he said softly as she stared. Then he slowly let his eyes rove her the way she’d just done him.
They scanned her face slowly, then dropped to the bare skin her strapless maxidress left exposed. A bit of bronzer allowed her collarbone to shimmer slightly, and his pupils dilated as he wet his lips. His eyes continued their journey down to the curves her navy blue dress didn’t quite hide, and stopped at her cherry red toes, which peeked out from her nude corked wedges.
“You done?” she asked a little breathlessly when his eyes found hers once more. He looked so amazing just leaning against the doorjamb, she nearly jumped out of her heels when Violet cleared her throat.
“You kids have fun.” She grinned.
Reed frowned. “You’re staying here alone?”
Hope shook her head. “I’d never do that. I made sure that a member of the staff my stepfather employs here will be with her until I come home.” She turned to Violet. “You text me if they come home earlier than I do, okay? I’ll come right back.” Violet nodded.
Reed held out a hand. “Well, let’s get out of here, then.” He winked at Violet. “See ya, kid.”
Hope turned and grabbed Violet’s chin. She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before releasing her and taking Reed’s proffered hand. “Love you. Be good. And call me if you need anything, Vi. Anything.”
Violet waved and shut the door behind them. Then Reed was walking Hope to his truck, which sat waiting for them in front of the side-entry garage doors.
He opened the passenger-side door, and then stopped her with a hand on her wrist before she could climb up. She turned to face him and was startled when his body was only inches from hers. She braced her hands against his chest and looked up into his chiseled face. And thought to herself that she hoped she could get through the night without just staring at the perfection that was Reed’s face.
“You look amazing,” he said, his voice full of dark, sexy sin. “And I promised myself that I’d respect you, and that I wouldn’t put too much pressure on you. But goddammit, Hope, you look good enough for me to eat right now, and I’m having a hard time remembering why I made that promise to myself.”
A hot flush crept into her cheeks. Suddenly, she couldn’t remember why she needed to keep her distance from him, either.
His eyes flicked down to her lips, and her knees weakened slightly. “Because we are a bad idea. And I’ve got too much going on in my life right now to be getting so…physical…with anyone right now.”
He immediately took a small step back. “Yeah. I remember you saying something about that.”
He let his eyes run the length of her once more. “But I don’t promise it’s going to be easy to keep my hands to myself. I’ll do my best.”
She smirked. Reed brought out a boldness in her she never knew existed where men were concerned. She’d never wanted to be bold before. “I didn’t say you needed to act
like a priest.”
His eyes flashed, and she giggled and turned to climb into the truck. She felt his hands on her hips, lingering as he helped her up to her seat.
He closed the door behind her and she inhaled deep. His truck smelled like him, and she inhaled again as she watched him walk around the front of it to climb in next to her.
“Where are we going?” she asked casually.
“Nuh-uh,” he answered. “You’ll see when we get there.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“How was work this weekend?” he asked as he drove with one hand on the wheel and one placed lightly on her knee. She liked it that he wanted to touch her. She wanted the contact when it came to Reed.
“Work?”
“Yeah.” He glanced her way. “You worked at your stepdad’s club the last two nights, right?”
He thought Frank owned an actual…oh, crap. Is a lie of omission the same as a lie?
“Oh, that,” she said, dread coursing through her. “It was…eventful. I had to set down some ground rules for a creep who had the wrong idea, but other than that it was just a normal weekend.”
Reed’s hand tightened on her leg. “Someone touched you?”
How am I supposed to answer that?
“This guy thought I’d give him more of a good time than my rules would allow,” she said carefully. “So I set him straight.”
Reed’s jaw tensed; she watched the vein in his temple throb and marveled at the sense of strength it gave him. “What did your stepfather say about it?”
She laughed out loud, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “Frank’s not the protective type.”
Reed’s eyes slid toward her. “You work for him; he should take care of you. You have my number, Hope. Call me if that happens again while you’re working. I’ll be there.”
“Now you sound like Morrow.”
He slid her a sideways gaze. “Who’s Morrow?”
She smiled. “He’s my best friend. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and he’s always trying to look out for me.”
“Well, then this Morrow’s a smart dude. I mean it. I want you to be safe. There’s a lot of bad guys out there, especially when they’re drinking at a club.”
Hope rolled her eyes. Tell me about it, she thought. Aloud, she said, “I’ll keep you in mind.”
He nodded, and his hand relaxed on her leg. She looked out her window and noticed that they were driving on the bridge to Nelson Island. She sighed as happiness flooded through her. “I’m glad you’re bringing me back here.”
“Good. I hope you like what I have planned.”
The sincerity in Reed’s tone was disarming. When she glanced over at him, his eyes were fixed firmly to the road ahead, both hands were now gripping the steering wheel.
He’s nervous. The thought brought a smile to her face. He was nervous about taking her on a date. This ridiculously sexy man, who wore a guitar like another limb and played it like he owned the room, this man who’d hinted at the scores of girls who’d been in his condo before she’d ever even heard of him.
She made him nervous. The thought eased the rest of the tension right out of her coiled muscles and softened her closed-up heart just a little bit more toward Reed. Because if he was nervous, that meant he was real.
And she could handle real.
Why the hell am I so nervous? He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked a woman up to take her on a date. Maybe high school. Prom? That was probably it. By the end of high school, he’d learned that it wasn’t necessary, the whole courting ritual. Girls tended to end up in his lap at Sunny’s, where’d he’d been using a fake ID since he was sixteen, whether he sold them promises of tomorrow or not. The ID was merely a formality; anyone who worked behind the bar at Sunny’s knew exactly who Reed was and how old he was. They just needed the fake in order to look the other way.
And that had been before he’d been brave enough to strap on his guitar and bare his soul for a crowd mixed with strangers and friends.
He drove along the state highway that ran through the middle of Nelson Island and ended at the oceanfront. On the way, he passed the turnoff for the Hopewell ranch and pointed it out to Hope. She seemed interested in the ranch’s business, and he spent the remainder of the drive explaining about the polo horses his parents bred and trained on the working ranch, and how his father had started Hopewell Enterprises as a young man not much older than Reed.
“Wow,” she remarked, just as Reed was parking the truck in a sandy lot beside a little wooden bridge that crossed from asphalt over to sand. “Your father seems like kind of an amazing man.”
“Yeah,” muttered Reed “He’s something, all right.”
She glanced at him, but he didn’t elaborate on his dry remark. She’d figure out sooner or later that his relationship with his father wasn’t what it should be, and he’d rather it be later.
Behind closed doors and family walls, every impressive man had his secrets and downfalls. Gregory Hopewell was no different, especially in the eyes of his only son.
“Shall we?” He exited the truck and went around to open her door. He used the excuse of helping her out of the cab to get his hands around her slim waist. He let them rest there while he eased her to the ground, relishing the feeling of Hope in his arms. She fit so perfectly there. She was so tiny, and although Reed wasn’t a huge guy, not nearly as big as Sam or Blaze, she made him feel like a giant. She was vulnerable as she trusted him to place his hands on her. He was beginning to realize how much it took for her to bestow that kind of trust, and he found himself wanting to prove himself worthy.
Another totally brand-new feeling this girl seemed to awaken in him.
He pulled a black bandanna out of his pocket and waved it in front of her. “I asked you if you trusted me a few days ago when I asked you on this date, and your answer was yes. Was that really true?”
She assessed him carefully, and he could see her mind working as she formulated an answer. Finally, she nodded, smiling almost shyly. “Yeah, Reed. I do.”
He grinned. “Good. Because I’m going to blindfold you.”
Her eyes widened. The golden flecks swirling in them glinted in the setting sunlight, and he caught his breath as he met her surprised gaze. She was just so damn beautiful he ached.
He pulled her close, taking the time to inhale her sweet, fresh scent, and turned her around so she was facing away from him. He tied the blindfold gently around her head, and waved a hand in front of her face. When she didn’t react, he smiled.
“Okay, I’m going to lead you a little ways away, Hope. Just walk with me and hold my hand, okay?”
“You’re not going to lead me into the ocean, are you?”
He placed his lips close to her ear when he answered. “No, gorgeous.”
She shivered—he could feel her body quiver—and he was slightly awed that he had such an effect on her. He gently tugged her hand, and they slowly walked over the little wooden bridge. As soon as her feet touched sand, he asked her to sit so he could remove her shoes. He guided her to perch on the wood, and he ran his hands down one of her silky smooth legs to the strap of her sandal. He silently unbuckled the strap and slid off her shoe. Her cute little toes wiggled as they were freed, and he smiled in response. He couldn’t help it; he bent down to place his open mouth to her calf. Her lips parted and the softest of moans escaped her. He was instantly hard; her sexy-as-hell noises were just as he remembered them from the night they’d rolled around in his sheets. He closed his eyes briefly without saying a word, just gathering his strength. He had promised to respect her, and that was what he was going to do.
He repeated the process with her other shoe, and placed one more chaste kiss on her ankle before clasping her hands in his and pulling her to her feet. He turned to face the ocean, and his little surprise was in full view.
As they began to walk, a trio of violinists began to play a quiet instrumental. Hope gasped beside him, and he was unable
to keep the huge grin off his face as he led her toward a small table for two set just where the waves kissed the sand. He kicked off his shoes as they walked, and bent to pick them up as he continued to lead Hope toward a romantic dinner.
The chef he’d hired, a friend of his family, smiled at Reed as he pulled out Hope’s chair. Reed guided her into it and pulled off her blindfold. Her wide eyes reflected the flickering candlelight from the table, and she glanced around her in shock. As the sun sank low over the horizon, Reed was almost as taken away by her perfection as she was by the scene before her.
“Reed.” Her voice was the softest of whispers. “This is…I can’t…” Words failed her as she trailed off. “This is too much. I don’t deserve it.”
“Hey, now,” he protested, sitting across from her. He grabbed the bottle of wine, which was breathing in the center of the table. Picking up her glass, he poured the rich, crimson liquid. “Let me be the judge of that. Just enjoy it, Hope. I knew how much you liked it here the last time you were in N.I., and I wanted to bring you back and make it something special just for you. This is Chef Giovanni, by the way.”
She stiffened at the name, and her eyes flew up to the chef’s face. She seemed relieved when she laid eyes on the man, and then he smiled warmly at her.
“Hello, Miss Dawson,” he greeted her. “I feel fortunate to have been able to prepare dinner for you this evening. My restaurant isn’t too far down the beach, so the food hasn’t traveled far from my kitchen. And anytime you want to stop by, you’ll always be welcome.”
Reed watched her while Giovanni explained the first course. Her reaction to Giovanni had been odd. Had she recognized the name? It seemed as if she had, but he could tell she didn’t actually know the chef. She listened with interest as he explained their meal, and when he walked over to the curtained cart, where the food was served onto plates, her eyes once again found Reed’s.
“This is the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for me,” she said with certainty. “Thank you, Reed.”
