He was sitting at a table, looking out over the city lights. She was surprised that she’d forgotten how tall he was. How powerful he looked.
Then he turned and saw her.
Chapter Ten
Brandon stared at Sandra as if she were the only thing that existed in the world. His eyes captured her soul, and she found herself short of breath. A slow, steady smile that rivaled the moon’s own beauty spread across his lips. The look he directed at her intensified until it seemed to Sandra that he, too, was the only thing left in the world. She was drawn into the depths of his unwavering green eyes, drawn into pools of eternal time, and it was like some invisible barrier had isolated the two of them from the outside world.
Then he stood and started to walk toward her. His movements were smooth; he looked as if he were gliding underwater. His lips moved as he said something, but her addled brain was too numb to make sense of it. She saw him smile, felt him take her hand. When he brought it to his mouth with assertive grace, the heat of his lips against the edge of her knuckles made her gasp and come back to herself.
The rising tide of emotion swept aside any resolve that Sandra had built up before. She was taken in by Brandon’s rich, piercing gaze. The hunter’s look, she thought. It held her mercilessly suspended in time.
Is this what love feels like? Sandra wondered absently. Can it arrive without warning, in the least expected of places? Or had it always been there, sparked by fate the moment she stumbled into Brandon in that serendipitous meeting outside Cassie’s Blend? Had some part of her subconscious known that, and led her here as a result? Was that the real reason I agreed to come to Seattle?
Everything about Brandon held her captive. Those stirring iron-green eyes. The bit of stubble on his cheeks. His messy, wavy hair. The casual way he had his sleeves rolled up to expose powerful forearms. The way he looked at her: Not like a doll, not like a toy, but like a woman. A woman he thirsted for.
“You look magnificent,” she heard him say, but the words seemed far away, distant. Her brain had become mush, and performing even the simplest function was difficult. The low, distinctive growl of his voice made her insides start churning all over again. The irresistible curve of his jawline drove her crazy, as did the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple when he spoke.
Belatedly, she realized Brandon was looking at her now, the amusement clear on his face, waiting smugly for a reply.
“Oh,” she stammered. “Thank you. It’s not me, really. It’s the dress. The one you bought me. Thank you—for the dress, I mean. And the compliment. But it’s not—” she cut off, heat flooding her cheeks as she realized she was babbling like an idiot, again.
Brandon regarded her with utter calm, his smile never wavering. Sandra took a deep breath. How was it fair that he could make her feel this way? After all the things she had planned to say to him!
“I have a table for us,” he told her. “Come.” Taking her hand, he led her to where he had been seated.
“How did you do this?” she managed as she sat down. “The people outside. They’re all waiting, I mean. But you’re here. And—”
“Sandra.” Brandon smiled. The way he said her name made her stop. She hadn’t felt this nervous the last time she was with him. Why now?
“Yes?”
“You needn’t worry. Everything’s been arranged for us.”
“Everything? You mean—”
“The restaurant is ours for the night.”
Sandra’s eyes widened. Of course, she had suspected as much, but to hear him actually say the words? It was a little like finding yourself in a dream, pinching yourself to wake up, only to feel the pinch and discover you weren’t dreaming at all.
“It doesn’t matter,” Brandon continued. “Only you matter right now. I was worried you might not come.”
“Might not… come? Why?” She had to get a grip on her nerves. It wouldn’t do for Brandon to see how unsteady he made her feel.
He reached across the table and took her hand in his, delicately brushing the tips of her fingers. Electricity ran through her arm, and her nipples firmed into hard buds beneath the soft lace of her bra. There’s no way this type of reaction is normal. “Never mind. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
Sandra took a shaky breath. His touch sent shivers down her spine and all throughout her body. They were seated across an entire table from each other! She could only imagine what would happen when their bodies came closer together. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but the words wouldn’t come. She could scarcely even think. Nobody had ever had this strong an effect on her before. It had started just before the kiss on the boat, and now, almost a week later, it was like they hadn’t been apart at all.
“Tell me about yourself,” she blurted suddenly. She had to say something to take her mind off the highly sexualized feelings that Brandon roused in her. “I don’t want to be rude. But I don’t know anything about you yet.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked quietly.
She’d revealed her most recent past on the yacht… yet his was still clouded in darkness. “Well, I barely know anything about you, and you know my whole history—”
“Your whole history?” He smiled and leaned back, amused. “I don’t know a tenth of your history. I don’t know what you were like as a little girl. I don’t know what your favorite color is, don’t know what your favorite subject in school was, don’t know if you keep a diary, if you like summer or winter best. I don’t know if you’ll jump in the deep end on a whim, if you eat chocolate and watch sappy romances when you’re upset. I don’t know what your favorite flower is—”
“Violas,” she said. “I like violas.”
“Violas,” he repeated slowly, testing the word on his tongue. He leaned forward, and the gaze he directed at her made her stomach flutter and her heart beat double time. “Yes.” The word was a husky growl. “That suits you. But there’s so much more I don’t know. So much I want to know.”
“You…want to know all those things?”
He locked eyes with her, reached across the table, grasped her hand again. “I want to know you, Sandra.”
Oh, God, she thought. How was she supposed to resist that? Nobody had ever said something so absolutely heart-wrenchingly sincere to her. And the feel of his strong fingers caressing her hand, that tingling sensation that erupted along her skin wherever he touched, the heat that flared between her legs from a single look… it left her helpless. It wasn’t fair.
The worst part is, I can’t even fight my attraction to this man.
Here he was, someone who’d clearly been given so much in life, who could obviously have any woman he wanted, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, he was interested—enthralled, even—by her.
Sandra had had men interested in her before. She’d had men look at her hungrily before, but Brandon was different. There was lust in his eyes, to be sure, but it was kept restrained by something else. Something more wholesome, more fully there, more… honest. He’s interested in me, and not in the quickest way to get me to bed.
How could she be upset for the way he had invited her here when he was behaving like this?
“Why were you gone?” she asked abruptly, too loudly, too awkwardly. She expected her words to break the spell of his gaze, to stop the jumble of feelings from continuing to build in her middle, but his eyes never once left her face.
“Hmm?” he murmured. “Gone?”
“After last week. Why didn’t you tell me you left Ocean Shores and came to Seattle?”
A smile spread across his lips. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
“That’s kind of the polite thing to do.”
“Is it? I wouldn’t know.” His smile became all too suggestive.
“And yet, obviously you know what you’re doing with me.” She paused, then spoke without thinking. “How can I not fall under your spell?”
He blinked, and for a second that fire from when he kissed her fla
red in his eyes. “You’re falling under my spell?”
Shit. She didn’t know what had possessed her to admit that to him. But now that she had, she couldn’t very well deny it. “How could I not?”
Brandon looked very pleased at that. “Then I’ll take it I’m doing something right.” He leaned back and motioned around with his hands. “I’m going to be honest with you, Sandra. I don’t have a lot of experience with nights like this. I haven’t had the desire to make the effort with anybody else before. But with you, it’s different.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Because I’ve never met anyone I wanted to know as much as I do you.”
Wow. There was no pretense with this guy. He was direct and to the point, as always. If he were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe him… but something about Brandon is different. “Why?” she asked again.
“Why?” Brandon repeated. He chuckled. “Your silver eyes should be reason enough for any man. Did you know they shine like diamonds in the candlelight?”
Sandra blushed a little. “No.”
“They do. And they’re lovely.” Okay, now he’s turning up the charm. “But that’s not why I invited you here. After last week, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. You cast a spell on me, Sandra, and I’m responding the only way I know how.” Again the hunger flashed in his eyes. “No,” he corrected. “Not the only way. The right way.”
Oh, wow! Sandra felt the flush of heat across her cheeks come at exactly the same time as it did between her legs. She had to look away. Did the man know of his effect on her? Something in the back of her mind screamed, Yes. Very much, YES!
“Why didn’t you respond to any of my texts?”
“I was busy.” He waved a dismissive hand through the air. “I had meetings during the day. Nothing that would interest you. Besides, I don’t like communicating that way. It feels too… impersonal. You saw my notes from this morning?”
Sandra smiled. “Of course.”
“It’s a little archaic, but I think handwriting conveys so much more meaning than something you punch into a phone.” He cocked his head to the side. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I never thought of it that way, but… yes.”
“And I trust shopping with Clarisse wasn’t too unexpected. She told me you had a great time.”
Sandra blushed again, feeling a bit of shame creep up within her. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did.” He said the words with immense resolve. “I wanted to. I promised we’d do the second date right. If I hadn’t had meetings, I’d have been there with you.” He smiled secretly to himself. “One can choose what to do, but not what to want,” he murmured.
“Is that a quote?”
He nodded. “I’m impressed you caught it. It’s from Arthur Schopenhauer, a German philosopher. One of my university professors used to quote him endlessly. Some of it stuck.”
“You were a philosophy major?”
Brandon laughed. “No. I took an arts class, though, and got exposed to a little culture.”
“What college did you go to?”
“A little school on the east coast. I doubt you’ve even heard of it. I didn’t finish, anyway. I left after two years.”
“Oh? How come?”
“Business picked up.” Again, there he was with that secretive smile. “I’ve forgotten myself. Shall we eat? I hope you’re hungry.”
Hungry? Sandra hadn’t eaten all day; ravenous was more like it. “A bit.”
Brandon nodded, and leaned back to wave behind her. Seconds later, the scent of sweet perfume in the air announced the arrival of the waitress. Sandra looked up—and was seized by a gut-wrenching shockwave of self-doubt and inadequacy.
The waitress was pure sensuality wrapped in a bow. Luxurious raven hair flowed from her head, and dark skin set off her striking green eyes. Her full lips gave her the appearance of a perpetual pout that Sandra knew so many men found attractive. Her nose had a slight upturn to it, and long lashes emphasized the tilt of her eyelids.
The woman took one look at Sandra before dismissing her, instead choosing to focus on Brandon. “Mr. Galliani!” she exclaimed happily, with a familiarity that Sandra thought inappropriate. The black button up shirt she wore was so thin that Sandra could see the silky lace of her bra, and when she leaned in toward Brandon, laughing at something he said in a rich, sultry voice, she did so with her shoulders pulled back to emphasize her ample breasts.
But… Brandon barely noticed her. The whole time she was mooning over him and taking their order, Brandon only glanced her way once or twice. He gave her all the attention one might to a gnat.
Sandra was dumbfounded. The waitress could have easily been plucked down from a triple-A movie or a high fashion runway. And she was conspicuously flaunting herself to Brandon. But he doesn’t even see her.
It was remarkable. Fascinating. Any man with eyes would have been drooling over the waitress. But not Brandon.
I truly am the only one who matters to him right now, Sandra thought, amazed.
The thought was a revelation. It wasn’t like Brandon was being polite—the waitress might have been a specter for all the attention he gave her. And finally, whatever smattering of doubt remained in Sandra’s head about the man sitting across from her disappeared. Brandon didn’t have five other women set up in hotel suites waiting for him. He didn’t beckon her to Seattle with the pompous expectation she would come running.
He’d invited her.
And she’d come because she wanted to.
“I have to ask you something,” Sandra said after the waitress left.
“Yes?”
Her nerves were starting to calm, and she was beginning to feel like herself again. But when she opened her mouth, something stopped her from saying what she wanted: Why didn’t you look at the other woman?
“All the shoes in my room. Was that Clarisse, or—”
“Me?” Brandon finished with a smile. He locked eyes with her again. “What do you think?”
“It was you.” Sandra felt very fluttery inside. “But… how did you know my size?”
“I have an eye for details.” He shook his head with a smile. “I couldn’t forget your slender feet.” Brandon reached over, and took her hand in his again. Sure fingers caressed the sensitive space between her thumb and forefinger, making the small hairs on Sandra’s arm stand up. How can he make me feel so secure and uncertain of myself at the same time? Suddenly she got a very clear picture of that strong hand sliding up her smooth thigh, parting her eager legs, and slipping beneath the floral embroidery of her silk panties…
With a jerky breath, she banished the image. These types of thoughts can’t be normal. How was it that the man could rev her up so much from the most innocent of touches? She’d never experienced anything like that with Henry—not even close. Not even in the first weeks of their relationship, when she foolishly pretended to be in love.
With Brandon around, Sandra became some hyper-sexualized being, responding to the most trivial of cues with a totally out-of-proportion reaction. If only he knew how he made her feel…
If he knew, he would stand up right now, pull her to the bathroom, and nail her without mercy against the stall for the rest of the night.
He does know, a small voice whispered. He has an eye for details, as he said. Obviously he can see how my breath quickens with him around. He felt my heart racing when we were in the forest, for heaven’s sake! Knowing that made everything Brandon did so much more meaningful. There was no doubt left that he could see how turned on she was. And yet—still!—just as he’d promised… they were doing things “right.”
Chapter Eleven
Sandra’s food arrived shortly after, fresh and succulent. Brandon ordered her swordfish, something she’d never tried before, while choosing steak for himself. There was something very visceral and inherently attractive about seeing him tear into the meat with knife and fork. The muscles of his forearms danced as he
brought the pieces to his mouth, almost as if the meal were a release for his pent up desire for her.
As dinner progressed, Sandra found herself much more at ease with the magnificent man across the table. Her nerves had gone away. That flirty give-and-take from their first date was back. Brandon had a sarcastic humor that she’d come to appreciate, and Sandra learned he’d been all over the world. She would name a country. He would have a story. He was still coy about his occupation, but Sandra suspected that was because he didn’t want to bore her with mundane details—especially considering all she’d told him about Henry.
There were not many men with whom Sandra could talk to at length. In fact, there were not many people she could talk to for hours. But with Brandon, she could. He ignited her mind with his witticisms and insights. He was fascinating.
As they finished their food, Sandra recognized something very appealing at his puritan insistence that this second night be done “right.” She could see how that promise tore at him. Every so often, especially after she giggled or tossed her hair, the fire from when he kissed her would flare in his eyes. His jaw would clench, and that hunter’s look would flash across his face. Then, marshaling the undoubtedly immense self-control required, he’d close his eyes—only for a moment—and when he opened them, the fire would have faded, at which point he’d continue where the conversation left off.
And, as Sandra started to see what she did to him, she began to take guilty pleasure in revving him up. A tease here, a laugh there, and before long she started playing a game with herself to see how many times she could ignite his fire before it became too powerful for him to hold in. It made her feel sinfully attractive and in control. Even better, it was her way of getting back at him for causing all those foreign feelings of nervousness at the start of the night.
Despite how much Sandra enjoyed their playful conversation, she couldn’t wait for dinner to wind down. Every time she triggered the fire in Brandon that he tried so fervently to control, her thoughts would drift to everything that would happen after dinner, to the real dessert at the end of the night. She still planned to tease him, of course, and play hard-to-get as much as she dared… but she had no intention of letting him go tonight. The sexual tension between them was like a forest full of dry twigs, awaiting that single spark that would start a wild conflagration. Sex at the end of the night promised to be so much more meaningful than any she’d had before, no doubt helped by how much she was building it up in her mind.
Yours to Savor Page 11
