He’s not your type, the more reasonable, prim voice in my head managed to get in. And YOU are most certainly not his type. I knew I wasn’t. And I had seen the way other women looked at him when they passed by our table—they all but devoured him with their eyes. And these women were all either taller, prettier, younger, leggier, or bustier than myself. They were better dressed, knew how to apply makeup, actually styled their hair. It would never work out between the two of you. Yet I couldn’t discount the fact that he hadn’t paid them any attention—he had kept those green eyes of his on me the whole time, like we were the only people in the place. He had made me feel special, I realized, even though all we did was sit there and drink a coffee and have a conversation.
I came to an intersection and stopped at the corner because the light was red. My phone started to ring, and I opened my purse and snatched it out, hoping against hope that it would be him. It wasn’t, of course—it was Jenn. I debated not answering, but then I did.
“Hey,” she said. “I was wondering if I could take you out to lunch. Gary took the kids to the park and then they’re going to the movies, so I’ve got a couple of hours all to myself. And I thought it would be nice to treat you to lunch since you saved us the other night!”
I had barely eaten breakfast this morning because I’d been so nervous about the coffee date, but now I was too… too… something. I couldn’t pinpoint quite what I felt, but it was definitely a foreign feeling, definitely something that I wasn’t used to. At all.
“Maybe another time,” I said to my sister now. “I’ve got a bunch of things that I need to take care of right now. And besides—you should go enjoy a few hours to yourself. When do you ever get that?”
I half-listened to Jenn for a few more minutes, as she nattered on about her life-coaching studies. Then we got off the phone, all without me ever mentioning anything about Shep. Why hadn’t I mentioned anything to Jenn about my coffee date? She would’ve been thrilled. She would’ve wanted to know all the details, wanted to know everything about him.
But I didn’t feel like talking about it with anyone just yet, because I didn’t know where it was going, didn’t know if it was going to work out. Yes, I did have a good feeling about it, but how often were “good feelings” completely wrong? How often did some optimistic girl meet some guy who seemed even semi-nice and suddenly she thinks she’s met her future husband? The butterflies-in-my-stomach sensation I got when I thought about him was certainly new, but I didn’t want to give it more credit than necessary. Not just yet anyway. I might not even hear from him again.
***
I did hear from him, though, two days later, when he called and asked if he could take me out to lunch. I was in the office, and thankfully no one else was there. If Drew or Ben happened to overhear, that would’ve been fine, but the last thing I wanted was for Cole to get wind of this, especially since he had overheard the last part of my conversation with Shep the night of the fight.
“If it’s too short a notice, maybe tomorrow?” Shep asked.
“No, I’m just finishing up a few things here, and then I can actually take a lunch break. I didn’t bring lunch with me today, either. I usually do.”
“I guess it was meant to be, then. You know that place Lark & Co.? It’s not too far from your office, I don’t think.”
“It just opened not too long ago—right?”
“Yeah. The woman who owns it, her husband goes to my gym. Well, not my gym, but you know what I mean. I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet, but I’ve been wanting to. I could swing by your office and get you?”
“Why don’t I just meet you there,” I said. If he came by here, he’d probably end up sharing an elevator up with Cole or something. “Can you give me like half an hour?”
“Absolutely. See you soon.”
I set my phone down on my desk, unable to stop the slow smile that spread across my face. I tapped my foot underneath my desk. The last thing I wanted was to get too ahead of myself here, to let my emotions start flying wildly out of control.
You don’t even really know this person, I tried chiding myself.
But I had always prided myself on being a good judge of character, able to get a feel on people before I really knew them, and I couldn’t just ignore how I was feeling right now. It was unexpected, was what it was. I hadn’t been planning on meeting anyone that night, and I was the sort of person who assumed that if and when I did meet another man to be in a long-term relationship with, it would be planned out, maybe set up through friends or done online, if I ever worked up the nerve to join an online dating site.
Maybe, though, none of that would be needed after all.
***
Shep was waiting for me out front of Lark & Co. He didn’t see me as I approached, though, and I watched as the three girls walking about ten feet in front of me checked him out, tried to get him to notice them. They were wearing all sorts of tight clothes; one of them had on high heels. They said something to him, to which he responded with a smile, but didn’t really even look their way. When he saw me, approaching in my navy-blue pants suit, his eyes lit up, and I felt a jolt of happiness surge through me.
“Hey,” he said. “Glad you could make it. How are you doing?”
“I’m good. Pretty hungry, actually.”
“Well, let’s get you inside, then.” He held the door open for me.
The interior of the restaurant was surprising—the floor was made of rectangular tiles in various sizes, in the hues of cinnamon and cocoa. The walls were textured ochre, and the furnishings were all constructed out of heavy, honey-colored hardwood. The bar on the left side of the restaurant was covered in intricate tile work.
“Wow,” I said. “This place is beautiful.”
“This used to be a tile showroom,” Shep said. “For almost half a century, I think. John, the guy from the gym, was telling me about it. There was another restaurant here before, but it didn’t last long. So it was kind of the perfect situation for them.”
There wasn’t a hostess, so we picked a table near the big floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the street, and a few seconds later, a waitress came over with a basket of still-warm multi-grain rolls and two menus. She was young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, and though she had a warm smile for us both, I could see her trying to suss out just what our situation was here—was I Shep’s sister? Cousin? Were we on some sort of business lunch? He was wearing a black T-shirt with his gym’s name printed on the front, his sculpted arms on display underneath the thin cotton. Of course I couldn’t actually hear her thoughts, but I knew what she was thinking: that we might be relatives, we might be co-workers; we might be a whole lot of things, but we were certainly not out on a date. That possibility entered her mind for a second and then immediately dissolved, because what would a guy like him be doing with a girl like me?
She left us to look over the menu and I watched her go. “She absolutely does not think for a second that we are on a date,” I said to Shep.
He glanced up from his menu, an amused look on his face. “I didn’t realize you were a mind reader,” he said, his smile widening. “I better be careful. And why the hell wouldn’t she think we’re on a date?”
“Oh, I don’t know; I’m dressed like a schoolmarm from the fifties and you look like… um… you look like…” I couldn’t think of anything to say, other than sex god, which I certainly wasn’t about to utter out loud.
He raised his eyebrows, still grinning. “An Adonis? A beefcake? Ice cream?”
“Ice cream?” I said.
“I’ve been called all those things before, by guys at my work.”
“Your work? At the bar?”
“Yeah. I might not have mentioned that I work at a gay bar. And the last time I was at work, someone started calling me ‘ice cream’ because they said I was so delicious-looking, they wanted to lick me.”
“A gay bar?” I said, and of course I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant he was—<
br />
“I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re wondering. I know that most people would assume anyone working at a gay bar is gay, but I am proof that’s not always true. I am very, very straight—I promise you that.”
“Huh,” I said. “That must be… interesting.”
He smiled. “It’s got its moments, that’s for sure.”
The waitress came back to take our order; I hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. I glanced over it quickly while Shep ordered a drink and decided on some sort of couscous chicken salad thing. I had been hungry before, but that appetite had waned, just being around Shep. Not in a bad way; I just wanted to spend our time together talking, all my attention focused on him.
She took our menus from us, and I couldn’t help but notice the lingering look she gave Shep, though I also noticed the way he barely even glanced at her. It was like I was the only person in the whole place, and the fact that I was marveling over this suddenly made me wonder: was my self-esteem not as good as I thought it was? I’d always considered myself independent, capable, not needing a man—or anyone, really—to do anything for me that I couldn’t already do for myself. Yet it would seem, whenever I was around Shep, I couldn’t quite get over the fact that he barely seemed to notice the other women who were openly checking him out.
I leaned forward after the waitress left. “You do realize,” I said, “that pretty much every woman in this place is checking you out?”
He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother to look around to verify if this was true or not. “Is that so?” he said.
“Yes. Just a casual observation. I have to admit—I’m not really used to that.”
“You’re not really used to being checked out? I find that hard to believe.”
“Stop it,” I said, feeling myself flush a little. A part of me wanted to hide my face or crawl under the table, but another part of me loved that he was saying it in the first place. “If the two of us are in a room together, you’re definitely the one that people are checking out.”
“It’s just looks,” he said nonchalantly, “and I know looks matter for some people more than others, but I think I’ve always had a slightly different take on it? Just because I have a twin brother. It kind of skews your perception a little when you know that there’s someone out there who looks exactly like you.”
“Huh,” I said. “You have a twin?”
“Yeah. Identical. His name’s Holden.”
“That’s interesting. I must admit, I never thought of it like that.” Jenn had always been the prettier sister, the one who was into girly things, like fashion and wearing makeup and having her hair done at a hair salon and not just tying it in a ponytail and hacking off four inches when it started to get too long. I had never wanted to be like that, but I saw early on the way the world responded to a girl who was into that sort of thing, as opposed to someone like me, who was not. Society might not take you as seriously, perhaps, but it was sure as hell a lot nicer. “I have a sister,” I said, “but we’re definitely not twins.”
“Holden and I might look exactly alike, but we sure as hell have different personalities. Is your sister older or younger?”
“Younger. Though more accomplished. She’s got the kids—well, one of her own, two stepkids—the marriage, the job. You know, the woman-who-has-it-all sort of thing.”
“I don’t think anyone could argue the fact that you’re accomplished.”
“Career-wise, maybe. But all that other stuff? Not so much.”
“And I don’t believe for one second that people don’t check you out,” Shep said. “I think you’re just trying to be modest.”
The food came out, and it was delicious, even though I didn’t have a huge appetite. Our fingertips brushed when we both reached for the pepper shaker at the same time, and I almost jumped out of my skin at the feel of his hand against mine.
“You first,” he said, nudging the shaker toward me.
When we were finished eating and the waitress dropped off the bill, there was an additional slip of paper in the black leather server book—the waitress’s phone number, scrawled in pink pen.
“I think this is for you,” I said, handing it to Shep. He glanced at it, a bemused expression on his face.
“Gotta at least give her credit for trying,” he said. “And my treat, anyway. I’m the one who asked you to meet up with me.”
“No, I’m not going to let you pay for my lunch.”
“Oh, come on, please. I want to. If you let me pay now, you can pay the next time we go out. See, it’s really for my peace of mind, so I know that I have an assurance that I’ll see you again.”
It was hard to hide my smile. “Well… okay.”
“Thanks.” He flipped open his brown leather wallet and pulled out a debit card. “You got a pen by any chance?”
“Uh… yeah, I think so.” I felt around in the bottom of my purse and pulled out a black Bic gel point. “Here.”
He took it from me and wrote something on the piece of paper that the waitress had written her phone number on, and then he tucked both things into the server book and closed it. I couldn’t help my curiosity, though, so I slid the book over and opened it. The piece of paper was right on top, and underneath her pink bubble handwriting he had written: Thanks, but I’m out on a date, and it’s going very well.
“Can’t say you aren’t honest,” I said, chuckling as I closed the book.
“I do always try to tell the truth.”
When we were done at Lark & Co., we went back outside. I did need to get back to the office soon, because I had a client to call, but going back to work was really the last thing I felt like doing. I could tell he felt the same, because we both just kind of lingered there, not wanting to move. He took a step closer to me.
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” he said. And there was something in the way he was looking at me, I could tell that he was going to try to kiss me.
My heart pounded so loudly in my ears it was like all I could hear. I felt paralyzed, the fight-or-flight response ready to completely overwhelm me. He was leaning in. I knew it was only happening in a matter of seconds, but everything seemed slowed down, like it was moving in freeze-frames. Like each freeze-frame lasted an eternity.
“I’m sorry,” I said, yanking back. “I… I just remembered I’ve got something I have to go do.”
I turned and rushed off before he could say anything, though I did hear him calling my name as I hurried away. I didn’t stop.
You’re a fool, the voice inside my head started up. An idiot. A moron. Stop immediately. Turn around and go back to him. You want to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you. And he was about to do it!
This inner voice was going about a mile a minute, a relentless barrage. But my legs kept moving me in the opposite direction, even when he called out my name again. His voice was further away, though, so I knew without having to turn around that he wasn’t following me. I stopped once I was around the block, and I was breathing so heavily you would’ve thought I’d just run all the way up Taylor from Market Street.
“Get a grip,” I said out loud, and a woman passing by threw me a look that suggested she didn’t think I was playing with a full deck. Well, maybe I wasn’t, at least when it came to romantic relationships. I was pretty much clueless, and even though it was clear that Shep was interested, I just couldn’t seem to tame that part of me that insisted that—
“Hey. How come you ran off like that?”
His voice startled me so badly that I jumped, and then turned to face him, guiltily. But he didn’t look mad; he seemed genuinely concerned. “I apologize if that was taking things a little too fast. I just… felt like kissing you was the right thing to do at that moment. Which obviously is not how you were feeling, so… I’m sorry. But, hey…” He gave me a grin. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You don’t need to be apologizing,” I said. I could only imagine how many shades of red the sides of my face wer
e, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never come out again. “I’m sorry for running off like that. That was incredibly childish. I’m usually not like that. I actually…” The words lodged in my throat. I couldn’t say it. Just couldn’t. My skin felt like it was tingling, like it was on fire; my brain felt like it was about to explode. Circuit overload. I couldn’t string together a coherent thought right now if my life depended on it, so, very much without thinking, I stepped up and kissed him. It was shockingly easy. And it felt wonderful. It was seriously as if fireworks were going off behind my closed eyelids, bursts of color exploding through the darkness as he pressed his lips against mine. His hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me into him, the length of our bodies right up against each other.
“Get a room!” someone shouted, and someone else honked a horn, followed by a wolf whistle. I barely heard any of it. This was the sort of Hollywood kiss that I figured I’d only ever see in movies—would never actually partake in.
“Wow,” he said when we pulled back, and now he was flushed, too. “Maybe I should have apologized sooner!” He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine again. I let my eyes close. Bliss. “I have to ask,” he said, “if I hadn’t run after you like that, would you have even bothered to get in touch with me again?”
“I would like to think so,” I said, though I wasn’t sure. The mortification of it all might have been enough to keep me from ever looking him up again. “But… you have to understand. I’ve never… I’ve never actually felt this way about someone before. I’m not sure what it is about you, but you seem to have a way of bringing up these feelings in me that… I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain; I know I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I think I get the gist.” He reached up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingertips brushing my earlobe, and the gesture gave me shivers. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I’ll be honest with you, Lena—I definitely feel a strong attraction to you, and it’s more than just physical. The last thing I want to do is scare you off.”
Parker Security Complete Series Page 53
