No one had ever picked me up wearing a suit before, and for a silly moment I felt like I was on my way to a wedding. That was pushing it. A prom maybe. "You look amazing. Am I too dressed up? Down?" My lashes fluttered above my questioning eyes.
"You're perfect, especially for the place I have in mind." He reached out, placing his hands on my shoulders, with a half smile, deliberately assessing. "You couldn't look any more perfect if I'd dressed you myself." The look on his face sent a chill down my spine. Did his words have a double meaning? If I'd had to describe his response, it was like a wisp of feathery smoke drifting into an airy sky on a blustery day. And being near him so made my head swim.
Even with stilettos, we didn't stand eye to eye. I gazed up at him, murmuring, "Hello."
What? Oh my God. Did I actually double my greeting? Grandma ... I'm sure you must have been through this ... help!
I cleared my throat, readying for his chuckle. But he remained silent while his eyes swept my face, roamed my cleavage.
With my index finger, I brought his chin up. "I'm glad you like my dress."
Pleasure danced in his eyes, then his face went soft, his expression anything but amused. "Not just your dress."
Holy shit. What was he trying to do to me?
I had a feeling our heated phone call was streaming through his head as well as mine. I could tell by the way his fingers gripped my waist, dropped to my hips. Securing my clutch bag beneath an arm, I ran my hands up the inside of his lapels, grazing the charcoal pinstriped fabric. It was silky smooth. I'd never felt anything so expensive other than garments in the clothing departments of AMA – and never on a breathing person. Not like the arrestingly alive, warm, muscular guy who was standing before me, heating in my palms, our lips threatening to meet once more.
Our eyes held for so long, it felt like the next day's sun should have already risen. He finally eased me away, gazing at me like an astronomer observing the birth of a new planet.
When a neighbor opened the heavy front door, passing traffic grew closer, the incessant honking of horns urgent. It was the first time my eyes left his since I entered the lobby.
"Impatient drivers. So annoying." One of my hands slipped from his jacket onto his soft mint colored shirt, also smooth and silky. I couldn't help but stroke the fabric; beneath it, I felt the warmth of his chest. My fingers stalled, pressed, attempting to trace the beat of his heart.
"Well, I'm kind of blocking half the road." Looking down at me, he smiled. His hands touched the part of my back bared by my dress, and after a delectable moment, he said, "We better go ... before I get a parking ticket."
His chuckle was faded, as through the intercom. I assumed it was his way of breaking the ice, which in my estimation, had already been cracked, chunked, crushed into a snow cone, and liquefied in one-hundred-ten degree body heat ... mine. Then his warm arm folded around my waist as he ushered me to the door, holding it open so I could pass through first. I imagined his eyes assessing me from behind, and took my time exiting.
I angled my head, watching the fall of his steps beside me. "Never worry about parking tickets. Pete would take care of them." I put my arm around him.
Did his body stiffen? Was he still not over Pete?
He led me to a silver Wrangler and pulled the door open. "Slide in," he said smoothly. "Careful you don't snag your dress on the molding." Like a gentleman, he waited beside me.
I made certain to guard my modesty as I climbed in, demurely folding my legs.
He closed the door after I settled, strode to the other side and hopped in, like I would have had I been wearing jeans.
He slid the key into the ignition, but before starting the engine, turned to me. "Hungry?"
"As a bear." I grinned, angling to watch him watch me.
"Do you like seafood?" His index finger traced the side of my face, lifting a wisp of hair from my temple.
Light from a street lamp fell across his profile. He was half shadow, half scrumptious male. Although distant sounds of traffic shattered the silence, I was lost in the moment, and it was only him and me, alone on the entire planet.
Nodding, I covered his hand with mine. "Mmm, yes, and I love this car. My parents have always driven Jeeps. But the big ones."
His fingers left mine to grip the wheel. I hated sharing his attention with the road, and imagined us in the back of a darkened limo, hidden behind a privacy shade, sharing more than the planet.
"I like this model because the top comes off. Great for summer nights." As he drove, he stole a glance at me. His voice was light, cheerful. He obviously liked his wheels. I was struck with a sudden image of him as a little boy, rolling a toy car back and forth on the floor. Boyish on top of hot, just what I needed.
"I bet it's great. The doors come off too, huh? How's that work out for you?"
He laughed, looked quickly at me and then back at the road. "Works out just fine. Not on a night like this, though." Stealing another glance, his eyes took in mine, then cut back to the road.
"Huh?"
"It's going to rain tonight."
"And this you know for certain? Because other than a few lightning strikes earlier this evening, the sky looks pretty clear to me." Gazing out the half open window, I watched the blur of neon signs we passed. I slid the window down further, protected my hair from the breeze, and stuck my face nearer the outside. "I don't smell it in the air either, and I have a good nose."
Driving into heavier traffic, he spoke without taking his eyes off the road. "Your nose is lovely, and rain has been forecasted since Monday. Which is why I decided to pick you up at your apartment."
I twisted in the seat to confront his profile. "So you didn't call all week because you knew it was going to rain tonight and that you'd be picking me up?"
"Is that a bad thing?" The side of his cheek crinkled with a grin I only saw part of until he shot another two-second glance my way. "You're not angry with me, are you?" I noticed his brows scrunch together.
"Well, no, but ...You have time to listen to the weather?"
"And news, and catch some sports. Does that surprise you?" His focus swung back to the road and the line of taillights before us.
"Um. I figured since you barely keep in touch ... I kind of thought it was because you're too busy."
"I screwed up again, huh? Guess I need practice." When he spoke, I felt a disturbing distance. Had he screwed up with her? And that's why she'd left him? What could he have done?
"So you've never had a serious relationship where you actually called someone when you said you would?"
"I've never called many girls. In high school, maybe. But then, high school guys aren't notoriously thoughtful, or in my case, experienced." His voice didn't waver, didn't change with the subject.
I couldn't believe he was actually telling me he was inexperienced. He hadn't sounded very inexperienced on the phone, hadn't acted it on the dance floor, or on the sidewalk outside the club.
"So, you're telling me you haven't dated much?"
"I dated ... but I had other things to do ... more important things."
"Sports?"
"Sometimes."
"Work?"
"Let's just say I was a caretaker."
"So ... you're father worked in a hospital and you volunteered? Like a candy striper?"
He laughed. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Rarely ... and if I have to ... well, I guess you could say not easily."
"That's good to know."
"You're beating around the bush. Are you trying to tell me you're a challenge?"
He laughed again. "You can answer that question after you get to know me better."
“I’m looking forward to it. I give honest opinions on everything. I have to warn you ... I speak my mind.”
“I believe I’ve already picked up on that.” With a broad smile, he stole a glimpse at me.
Traffic moved smoothly, and when we stopped for the first red light, he reached into the back seat, his hand
coming up with a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers which he placed on top of my folded hands. "For you." He watched me, smiling until the light changed.
I was stunned. Between monitoring the news, weather, and sports, moving his parents to the Hamptons, and working overtime at the hospital, he'd made it a point to bring me flowers!
"Oh, Jimmy. They're absolutely gorgeous. How thoughtful. Thank you." I ran my fingers along his arm, my touch light so I wouldn't disturb his driving.
"I'll have to remember to bring you flowers every time we meet." His voice was tinted with humor. I was certain he was happy he'd made me happy.
Bringing the bouquet to my face I inhaled the sweetness. The floral scent and his fresh cologne brewed a sensual blend. As he drove, left elbow jutting out the window, right wrist resting on the wheel, he looked so masculine, so suave ... further from a doctor than I did from a prima ballerina.
We turned onto the expressway, and in no time at all pulled up in front of a fabulous waterfront restaurant I'd only seen in fine dining magazines. Butterflies rose in my tummy. Thank goodness I'd listened to Emma for once, and had worn the dress she'd selected.
A doorman helped me out and a friendly valet parked the car. With his arm locked around my waist, Indigo guided me through the double doors and into a lobby and coat room larger than my entire apartment. I pressed closer than his arm drew me, enjoying the feel of him beside me.
Leaning close to my ear, as if guarding a secret, he asked, "What do you think of this place?"
Grinning up at him, I said, "It looks classy, but I'll reserve my final answer until after dinner."
He laughed. "Okay. You do that." He looked at me as if I was the most adorable thing he'd ever set eyes on. This was shaping up to be a most memorable night. And it was only beginning.
"My parents used to bring me here for birthdays ... special occasions. I have to warn you, they have fantastic desserts. You may want to start with something like a chocolate mousse first, and skip the appetizer." He had a tantalizing way of running his hand up and down my back whenever his arm was around me. I guessed he had no idea of how intimate it felt, or the arousal I felt at the mere touch of his fingers.
After greeting us, a hostess led us to our table, recited the specials, then set our menus down before two gleaming place settings. She stated our waiter would be with us shortly, then retreated with long, elegant strides.
"Did you reserve this table? It has an amazing view of the harbor."
Indigo pulled out my chair and slid me back in, whispering, "If it wasn't so chilly we'd be dining outside at the water's edge, which would have been even nicer." Before leaving my side, his lips made contact with my ear and lingered. "And to answer your question, yes I did."
I lifted my face, closed my eyes, waiting for his lips to find mine, but of course, only in my imagination, as he'd already taken his seat.
"This is perfect. We can watch the tide, the moon." I can watch you. I was heady.
He grinned and reached across the table for my hand. "Don't forget the thunderstorm."
I smirked, then let a slow smile slide across my face. "How was your week?" I sipped my water, my eyes never straying from his face.
"The usual. Saved a few lives. Delivered half a dozen babies." His fingers wound around mine, squeezing gently.
His grin was endless, and his words made me laugh. "I can see it now, you in your scrubs, flying around from room to room, your rubber soles burning tracks in the hallways."
"You paint quite a picture." He laughed and tilted his head."Is that what you think residents do to earn their scrubs and stethoscopes?" Waiting for my reply, he drummed the fingers of his free hand on the table top. "Well?"
"Sure, but you're not a resident yet." I shot him a cutesy smirk.
"You're supposed to say, of course that's what residents do, because you watch those doctor dramas on TV where the hot guy's always the hero."
"Hero, huh?" Hero, maybe. Hot guy, absolutely.
"Truth is, we do fly around from room to room." He lifted his water in a toast. "To tonight."
He made everything seem easy, magical, laughable. I clinked my glass against his. "Anything going on other than delivering babies?" I angled my head.
"Not really. And to be honest, this week has been grueling." He freed my hand to open his menu, then studied it.
"I'm sorry ... We could have waited till the weekend ..." Why was I feeling guilty? Dinner was his idea.
"Actually, tonight's my only free night. I'll be tied up all weekend." After setting down his menu, he captured my hand again. "I don't know why I even read it," he grinned, "I always end up having lobster."
Tied up? Whether or not I retained my high was a coin toss, depending upon his reply to the question teetering on my lips. Withdrawing my hand without jerking it away wasn't easy. "Double shift at the hospital?" I tried to curb the narrowing of my eyes.
"I wish." He grimaced, once again drumming his fingers. "If all goes well, this should be the last weekend of carting stuff to the beach house, for this year, anyway." He emitted a sigh I felt was exaggerated. Of course, he was feigning irritation about moving his family's things, being with Vanessa as she bent over boxes, tempting him with a wiggling butt. And the Hamptons ... I should have had such problems delegating my weekend hours.
"Why don't you hire movers?" Wasn't that what all rich people did?
"My mother's possessions are priceless." Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes. "If anything arrived broken ... she'd blame my dad for not hiring the right moving company."
"Hmm." I drank more water, thinking he had just confirmed, without realizing of course, his mother was not the most agreeable person. "That urgent to settle in, huh?"
"We go through this every year." His words, and the smile he produced, appeared charitable. "With Memorial Day almost here, and this year ... graduation ... I guess they want to be prepared. I have a feeling they might be planning something for me."
"Party time, huh?" Wondering if I'd be on the guest list, my stomach balled up like a fist. Somehow, I doubted I'd ever make it to the Hamptons.
"Something like that. More than likely a small gathering of family, a few close friends." He set his water glass aside and reached for my other hand, so that he cradled both. His fingers ran over my glossy nail polish, his eyes examining. "Purple. Your favorite color." As he brought his gaze to mine, he smiled. "I'm good with details." He winked. "Any graduation plans in your forecast?"
Ignoring his charm, I pursed my lips. "Not that I know of ... Gee, it's thoughtful of your parents to throw a bash for you. Parents can be so like that."
"My mother and Vanessa do the planning. My dad's not around long enough to plan anything." He frowned, but I doubted it was due to my sarcasm.
Vanessa. Vanessa. Vanessa. Count to a hundred, Jewelia, before saying something you'll certainly regret.
Retrieving my hands, I sipped more water, then resting my cheek on my palm, I gazed at him. "How'd you know my address?" I fidgeted with my earring, dislodging a strand of hair from the clasp.
"What do you think?" The color of his shirt brought out the blue of his eyes, which took on amusement.
"Duh. Bill."
"Yep, and he's been scarce."
"So has Em."
"I've never seen someone fall so fast." His eyes studied mine.
I watched his fingers lace and unlace, then tilted my head. "You mean ... love?"
"Seems that way. They've been joined at the hip lately – or he's working a lot of overtime."
"I guess. I don't understand how anyone could fall in love overnight." Liar.
"I imagine if you find the right person, you know it immediately." His thumbs drew circles on the backs of my hands. "You grab for it and hold on. Like the golden ring on the carousel ... or so the story goes." I couldn't decide if he was being reflective or sarcastic.
"You sound like Debra." I sat up straight, sliding my hands from his to bring my menu closer.
His fingers laced, and he angled his head, which he seemed to do a lot when we were together. "Excuse me?"
"Just a woman I work with. She said the same thing yesterday about grabbing and holding on." When I felt my brows crunch together, I made a mental note to perform a brisk massage of the surrounding area, in avoidance of dreaded elevens. Then I checked Indigo's face, noting his skin looked flawless and smooth, even beneath a light sprinkling of beard.
A waiter appeared and I opened my menu, my eyes glazing over lines of typed words that I couldn't have cared less about. I wasn't here to eat. I had come to be with him.
"Have you decided what you'd like to order?" Indigo faced me, while handing his folded menu to the middle-aged guy who wore the typical black and white uniform, along with an expensive smile.
I'd barely glanced at the entrees, but caught myself before scrunching the side of my mouth. "Um. How about Fettuccini Alfredo." I slid my menu across the table. "That always works."
"I'll have the same." Indigo took on an air of authority. The strength of his voice, and those trained physician hands, made me quiver.
"Wine?" As if I'd had no choice in the matter, the waiter addressed his fellow male.
Indigo turned even more formal, politely including me in the decision. "Is white good with you, Jewelia?"
I'd have been fine with my usual cocktail, even throwing back shots, but nodded a lazy yes.
"Sauvignon." He sounded so cultivated.
"I'll bring a bottle right out, sir." The waiter actually bowed.
Reaching across the table, Indigo took both of my hands in his yet again. He seemed to like touching me. The thought brought with it a chill. "So, how's your week been? Arrest anyone?" His eyes smiled.
"Soon, hopefully. I picked up a schedule of exam dates." I made a swoony face.
His brows arched, his fingers tightened around mine. "That's wonderful. I'm happy things are moving along so nicely for you." He lifted his chin. "I'll personally know someone who'll squash all of the parking tickets I know I'll be getting ... You will, won't you?" His sexy smile was now playful.
"I'll reserve that decision too." I chuckled, but deep down inside I meant it. I had no idea how long we'd be seeing each other, or if anything would even come of the night, in which case, I'd probably be the one handing out his parking tickets. "Yeah." I sighed. "So now I wait for a date in June, take the physical, then off to the academy."
Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance) Page 16
