Maybe now is a good time to push for more from him. “Why did you cut back so much?”
He eats another appetizer before responding, his expression more relaxed than when
we first mentioned the topic. “I wasn’t earning enough to pay my mother’s medical
bills, so I took a better-paying job I got my degree in.”
I want to ask about his mom, but I stick to a safer topic, hoping he’ll tell me when
he feels like it. “You went to college for accounting?”
Andy forks a shrimp and nods. “My parents wanted to make sure I had an education to
fall back on if music didn’t pay the bills.”
Surprise fills me at the easygoing way he describes his parent’s subtle direction
of his choices in life. “Wow. They sound… supportive. And far-seeing.”
A touch of sadness fills his eyes again, but not for himself, I have a feeling it’s
for me. “That’s what most parents are like. Not all of them are like your dad, taking
off and leaving those he’s responsible for.” His face twists into a bitter mask. “I’m
sorry to say it, Carla. But your father sounded like a coward.”
A part of me rages inside to defend the man, like I did for years with my mother when
she spewed her hateful words. But this time, I settle the conflicting emotions inside
me and nod. How long am I expected to deny the truth? A good man stands by the people
he cares about, he doesn’t leave when the going gets tough.
“Where’s your dad?” I ask. “Why isn’t he helping with your mom’s bills?”
“My dad died a few years ago. Unfortunately, he was ill for a long time and everything
they had was eaten up to pay for his ongoing care. My sister doesn’t make a lot with
her freelance writing, and that’s with her degree in journalism. When my mom got cancer two years ago we tried everything.
But there’s only so much Medicare will cover.”
“Medicare? How old is your mom?”
“Seventy-eight. Our folks had us late in life. She was forty-four when we were born
and my dad was fifty-two.” His face takes on a warm glow, as if recalling a fond memory.
“We had a great life growing up. Having retired parents was kind of nice. They made
time for all our school functions, had money to spare for long trips—Dad even coached my little
league for a while.”
Warmth washes over me as I realize all that he had… and all that my sister and I missed.
“That sounds nice. You’re very lucky.”
“I know. And watching them—how they felt about each other showing in small ways— helped
me figure out what I wanted in life. Which reminds me,” he pushes back his sweater
sleeve to check the time. “Do you mind if I call my mom before our meal arrives?”
“No. Not at all.” Andy takes out his cell. “Would you like some privacy?”
He shakes his head. “She’s in a coma and is mostly unresponsive.” My heart clutches
at his words, delivered so matter-of-factly. “We said our goodbyes when she was still
aware, but I’d like to think hearing me play might make her more comfortable and feel
loved.”
Shock settles over me when I comprehend exactly how strong this seemingly unpretentious
man is. Would I have the same healthy outlook if it were my mother lying in a coma?
The inner voice I’d like to ignore chimes in with, Probably not. You have too much anger where she is concerned.
Andy signals for our waiter and we place our dinner orders, under the heavy guidance
of the attentive man’s suggestions. Right before he leaves, Andy says, “I’d like to
play a song, Glenn. If that’s alright?”
Glenn’s face splits into a huge grin. “It’s more than alright, Andy. You go right
ahead.”
Andy nods his thanks and hits the dial button on his phone. “Hi Iris, it’s me. How’s
she doing?” After a slight pause while the person on the other end answers. “Thanks.
Would you mind holding the phone for her?” He rises from the table and holds the phone
out to me while gesturing to the piano. “Would you hold it while I play?”
Our fingers brush when he passes it to me, electricity tingling up my hand. “I’d be
happy to.”
Andy leans down and plants a soft kiss on my lips. Pulling back slightly, he stares
into my eyes. “This one was one of my mom’s favorites, but I chose it for both of
you.”
My heart starts to trip in my chest and I’m speechless, unsure what to say or do in
the face of this man’s confidence and heart-melting attention. As he walks to the
piano I take a deep breath. I think I nodded my understanding to his question, but
my insides are feeling so knotted with anticipation I may have sat there like a lump,
staring.
He settles on the black bench and turns on the microphone sitting on top of the piano.
Holy crap, he’s going to sing, too. The moment the mic clicks on and the speakers
kick in, all heads turn in his direction. I clutch the phone in my hand, eyes locked
on the man sitting in the small spotlight.
“Good evening, everyone. Management has graciously allowed me to play a song for you
tonight.” He looks over toward the doorway we came in and nods. “Your normally scheduled
player for the evening will be on at nine. Is that correct, Gino?”
“That’s right, Ace.” The maitre’d calls out. “Thank you.”
I glance behind me and see a collection of employees gathered near the entrance, some
from the kitchen, too.
Without warm up, Andy launches directly into a song, his fingers dancing across the
keys with no effort. The strains of a familiar tune reach me, as Andy’s eyes lock
onto mine across the distance.
The opening words of She’s Always a Woman to Me wrap around me, transporting me into the Billy Joel song with the spell he’s weaving.
The beauty of his voice, pitched perfectly, creates the sensation like the entire
restaurant has disappeared and it’s only he and I in this moment. As he hums between
stanzas his gaze drifts from me to the keys and back again, closing the distance between
us with an almost magical air.
Words to a song I know by heart take on new meaning as I listen to every phrase, and
apply them to myself. He’s singing about an independent woman, like me, who makes
no excuses for her behavior and often appears harsher than intended.
The last line of the chorus about a woman changing her mind stabs at me, jarring me
with its truth.
I can change my mind about how I look at men and relationships without giving in.
I can still be me and allow someone into my life. He’s so gorgeous, sitting there,
singing his heart out. Tears moisten my eyes and blur my vision as the poignancy of
the moment breaks through the hardened shell I’ve erected around my feelings. I can’t
believe this man I’ve ignored for months is the sweetest, kindest soul I’ve ever met.
How does he know me better than I know myself?
Tears trickle down my cheeks when he sings about a woman being kind and then cruel.
I muffle a sob as I clutch the phone.
He finishes with humming and sustaining the last notes, lingering over the keys. He
bends his head as it ends, breaking our eye contact. The restaurant erupts into applause
and the energy flowing through the room crashes into me with a sensation of acute
awareness. Awa
re of the beauty, aware of the sadness, aware of the depth in this man…
this man I’m seeing for the first time.
Andy casually stands, comfortable with the attention, and executes a short bow. He
returns to the table as I stiffly wipe the tears from my face. He slips the phone
from my grasp, says goodbye and thanks the person on the other end again before disconnecting
the call. Andy pockets the device, then reaches for my hands, pulling me to stand.
“You may be a prickly fruit, but I like you just as you are.”
I leap at him, no regard for how I look or that we’re in public, plastering myself
to his front as I latch my mouth over his in a deep and steamy kiss.
Chapter Sixteen
Andrew
“Dinner was absolutely magical, Andy. I’ve never had a night like that in my entire
life.”
Her admission brings a surge of pride. “Thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I give her
hand a slight squeeze while we walk back to her place. “I was a little worried when
I saw the tears. But the tongue jammed down my throat set me straight soon enough.”
Carla’s laughter rings into the cooling evening air. “Yeah, you didn’t seem too concerned
at the time.”
“All kidding aside, I feel like tonight was our first ‘real’ night together. The first
night with no pretenses, no jockeying for power or control or hiding ourselves. Just
two people getting to know each other.”
“More like one person finally getting her head out of her ass…” Carla’s voice trails
off, with a slight trace of bitterness directed at herself.
“Hey now, enough of that.” I quicken my pace when I see the awning to her building.
“You still have a present in your apartment yet to open.”
Carla pauses on the street corner, titling her head up to me in the harsh illumination
of the street lamp. “You mean you don’t plan on romantically kissing me at my doorstep
to leave me dreaming of your awesomeness all night long?”
I reach down, wrapping her in my arms and pressing a kiss to her smiling mouth. Our
lips meet and she sighs, parting her mouth to allow me entrance. Our tongues dance
as our passion rises and heat swirls through me. I reluctantly break off our embrace.
“Does that feel like the kiss of a man who’s willing to end the night before it really
starts?”
“Hell no. It feels like the kiss of a man I’d like in my bed all night.”
My heartbeat quickens at her implied offer. “Really? Not going to boot me out the
moment you’re satisfied?”
She shakes her head and continues our journey back to her place. “Call me crazy, but
a man romantic enough to sing to a woman in a restaurant earns a whole night to prove
his sexual prowess.”
I smile into the darkness as I envision her reaction over the blindfold, silk ties,
and small finger vibe I have waiting for her in the gift bag. It’s going to be a fun
night.
“That sounds fair to me.”
“Holy cow.” Carla’s face splits into a huge grin. “You bought me a Vanilla Bondage
Kit and a tiny vibrator? How does this little thing work?”
I laugh as I take the package from her and tear it open. “It’s designed to slip onto
the end of a finger, to assist with extra stimulation.” I demonstrate its two positions.
“You can rotate the vibrator under your finger tip to use against your sensitive skin,”
I wiggle my eyebrows as I glance down at the juncture between her thighs. “Or you
can twist it to behind your finger, so it adds to your personal ministrations.”
Carla pulls her black dress over her head and launches it toward the foot of her bed.
“I think you’ve got to be the coolest guy ever.”
I smile at her eagerness and pick up the creamy satin blindfold. “Ready to try this?”
“As long as I get to watch you undress first.”
“Deal.”
I toe-off my shoes and race to add my clothes to the growing pile, excitement fueling
my movements in my haste to explore and entice the curvy blond. She laughs as I whip
off my sweater, then she comes closer to smooth my hair down.
“What do you have in mind?” she asks, running her fingers down my neck.
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
Openness and acceptance shines in her expression. She nods once, steps back and reaches
for the blindfold. She slips the mask over her eyes. “I can’t see a damn thing.” Carla
tugs it into place. “Although, it does smell nice.”
“That’s the vanilla scent. Did you think the whole Vanilla Bondage Kit was just vanilla-colored
satin goodies? I think it’s a nice touch. And hey, not to be obvious, but not-seeing
through a blindfold is the whole point,” I say. “It can be freeing.” I step closer,
already turned on by her willingness to try new things without questioning me to death.
Leaning in, I nibble one delicate earlobe. “Wasn’t it freeing in the dark when I smacked
your bare bottom and you squirmed against my hand?”
“Yes—but I don’t get why.”
“Don’t over analyze it, Carla. Just accept it. You think too much.” I slide the small
finger vibe onto the index finger of her right hand, and then press the button on
the back to turn it on. “How does that feel?”
“Nice. Kind of odd. What am I going to do with it?”
“You’re going to touch yourself with it.” I press her shoulders to lower her to her
knees.
“Uh-huh. And why am I getting to my knees while you’re still standing?”
In answer I push the black boxer briefs down my hips. My cock springs free into the
cooler air of the apartment. A sigh escapes me at the thrill of what’s to come. “So
you can reach my cock easily.”
“What—?”
The slight opening of her mouth to speak is all I need. I nudge the head of my prick
past her lips and silence fills the bedroom. Cradling her head with both hands, I
grip loosely behind her ears, lacing my fingers. “That’s it, work the head in nice
and slow.”
Her suction increases as she starts to bob on my cock. “I’m going to guide you a bit
and use some pressure. I want you to pinch my ass hard if it gets too much for you.”
She nods around my cock, canoeing her tongue on the underside of my shaft.
God, she’s a natural. Once I get her brain turned off, she falls quickly into the
submissive role. Which means, with her penchant for wanting control, she’ll eventually
be excellent playing the top as well.
Rocking my hips forward slowly, I’m careful not to press too hard. She’ll need to
limber her jaw to get me in deep. Moist heat engulfs the top half of my shaft as she
wraps one hand around the base of my cock to guide it in. Unlacing my fingers behind
her head, I dig the tips into the base of her skull, where it meets her neck.
Slowly I massage the tense muscles there while coaxing her head a little deeper on
my cock, “That’s it, baby. Relax and take it all in.”
She’s a little past the halfway point, but I feel her body responding to my voice
and the tension easing from her. “Nice. Now put that finger vibe where you need it.”
She touches herself with the new toy and a slight moan vibrates over my flesh in her
mouth.
“My God, you’re so
sexy sucking on me.” Her red lips ring my erection and I can’t
pry my eyes away from watching the length slide between them. “If you could see how
fucking hot you look you’d be impressed.”
Avoiding Mr. Right Page 12
