The Art of Love

by Kayla C. Oliver

  There weren’t many things that turned me off about a girl when I actually asked them on a date, but showing up half put together was definitely one of them. I didn’t expect a woman to be perfect for me, but I did put the time and effort into looking my best for them, at least on a first date. My black hair was slicked back very Italian-style like my family, and my suit was pressed and free of lint. I wore an expensive cologne and made sure I didn’t put too much on that I choked my date. All in all, I thought about how they would perceive me, and I hoped the date would do the same thing.

  When the car pulled up out front and Eliza stepped out, I almost fell over. She was wearing a tight black dress with tall heels, darker makeup than the night before, and her hair was flattened down and not as wild. She looked sexy as hell, and I knew I’d made the right decision. Her brown eyes were dark and expressive, and she had huge round tits that bounced, even in the confines of her dress. I couldn’t believe how lucky I had gotten; she was definitely a ten on my scale.

  Between sending a town car to pick her up and taking her to one of the most elite restaurants in the city, I was positive that I was going to get laid. I had never gone to this great of a length to get a woman in bed, but since they normally fell for my fat wallet and charming smile, I knew this was definitely a home run. She looked up at me and smiled, walking toward me with a sexy hip-shaking stride. I ignored the electricity shooting through my belly since it wasn’t the typical place for me to have that kind of feeling about a woman.

  She walked forward and put her hand on my shoulder, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. I returned the kiss, taking in her scent. It was different, like lavender and patchouli, but it fit her and I liked it. Her skin was soft, and it felt good against my lips.

  “You look beautiful,” I said, putting my hand on her back and walking her into the restaurant.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking over at me.

  We followed the hostess up to the top floor and out onto the balcony. There was only one table since I reserved the entire deck, and Eliza blushed, taking a seat as I pulled out her chair. Oh, yeah, this was definitely going to score me some points. I cross the table and sat down, staring at her as the waitress addressed us.

  “The gentleman has taken the liberty of preordering both your wine and appetizer,” she said, setting the food on the table and pouring our wine. “Enjoy, and I will be back in a bit to take your dinner order.”

  “Thank you,” Eliza said, nodding her head and smiling.

  We both watched as the staff left the balcony, and I picked up the wine, raising the glass in the air. She laid her napkin in her lap and smiled, picking up her glass as well. I went through the Rolodex of toasts in mind and decided that less was more in this situation.

  “To a beautiful night with a beautiful woman,” I said, clinking her glass.

  “This view is unbelievable,” she said after taking a sip. “This is just amazing. Thank you so much for the thought.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, feeling very pleased that she was impressed.

  We sat and ate our appetizer, ordering our main courses halfway through. We started the conversation talking about our jobs, what we did, and how we liked it. She was much more than a yoga instructor, and I was seriously impressed by her motivation.

  “I always wanted my own business,” she said. “My parents own Young Gardens, and they always inspired me to reach for my dreams like they did.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, recognizing the name. “My family always got their gardening supplies from Young’s. There is one right over across the bridge, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Though I’ve never actually been in that one. There are so many now, I have a hard time keeping track. My parents started out in a tiny storefront and really just grew things from there. Now they’re retired—well, kind of. My father will never fully let go, and they live in Massachusetts in a big house with like eleven gardens.”

  “You don’t want to be part of that business?”

  “Well, I mean, when they pass it will be left to me, and I grew up in the business, so I am pretty up to speed on everything, but I wanted to set out on my own for a bit and see where life took me,” she said, smiling. “I’ll always have Young’s, but I wanted to be me while I had the chance.”

  “I can understand that,” I said. “My parents were in marketing and had their own company. They wanted to give it to me when they die, but I wanted my own thing. Eventually, we ended up merging anyway, especially when my firm got a lot bigger than theirs.”

  “Would you excuse me? I need to use the restroom,” she said, standing up.

  I put my hands down on the table and rose as she did, learning those manners from my father. She blushed and looked down, her face going from happy to irritated really fast. I followed her eyes down to my hands and groaned, realizing I had forgotten to take my ring off.

  “What the hell?” She was angry. “You do all of this and you’re married? What kind of man are you? What kind of woman do you think I am?”

  “Eliza, please, let me explain,” I said, putting up my hands.

  “I don’t need your excuses. Trust me, I’ve heard them all,” she said, shaking her head and turning toward the door.

  I should have let her leave, but there was something about her that just wouldn’t let me. My shoulders got tense, and I looked around, cursing under my breath. Before she could open the door, I yelled out, not even thinking before I spoke.

  “Yes, I’m married,” I said loudly. She stopped. “But my wife died ten years ago. I don’t like that being the first topic of conversation. I wear the ring sometimes, like last night, to keep people from asking me why I wasn’t married. I just forgot to take it off. I’m sorry.”

  She turned back around, her purse clutched to her stomach. She studied my face like she was looking for a lie. She stepped forward and took a deep breath, her face firm but not as angry.

  “You’re telling the truth?”

  “I swear,” I said, sitting back down. “If you don’t believe me, you can call Missy and Mason—they know the story.”

  She looked around the deck as if she were searching for answers. I knew she was trying to decide whether to trust herself or not. Finally, she walked back over and sat down, placing her clutch on the table and setting her hands down. She looked like she felt bad.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” she said solemnly. “And I’m sorry for reacting that way.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” I smiled. “This city is full of douchebags, and you don’t know me. I’m sure you just thought I was like every other one out there. Can we start over?”

  “Of course,” she said, smiling and letting out a deep breath.

  We sat and ate our dinner, continuing our conversation. She didn’t ask any questions about Amy, and I was glad. The last thing I wanted to talk about on a date was my dead wife. When we had finished dinner, we decided to go down the street to a relatively quiet bar and have some drinks. I was glad that she hadn’t been scared off yet, and in fact, she seemed pretty cheery in conversation.

  She took my arm as we strolled down the block, taking in the cool fall air and the lights of the city. It was my favorite time of year, so festive and bright, and made me think about all the good times with family. I wasn’t a complete asshole all the time; I still had good memories of my family.

  When we reached the bar, she grabbed a table at the back and I ordered us two whiskey and Diets, having seen her drink one the night before when she got tired of beer. I took them back over to the table and sat down, watching her as she glanced around the room. There was something about this girl that I actually really liked, but I pushed that feeling to the side, knowing I didn’t want to get involved with anyone on a serious level. Since Mason had already warned me, I figured keeping her around for the two-week limit might be a little cruel.

  She looked absolutely amazing under the low lights, with cars passing by outside the window casting
faded shadows across her face. There was something so delicate about her features but so fiery about her soul. She had no problem telling me how it was, and she was so full of energy I wondered what she would be like in bed. Speaking of that, I was getting tired of sharing her company.

  “Hey,” I said, reaching out and taking her hands. “Why don’t we go back to my place and have another drink.”

  Chapter Five

  Eliza

  My eyes just didn’t want to open. They could sense the sunlight coming in through the windows and were fighting me hard-core. My head was already throbbing, and I could feel that all-too-familiar hangover feeling swirling around in my brain. I opened my eyes and quickly shut them, feeling the room start to spin around me. God, why did I drink so much last night? I hadn’t even realized it with the wine since it was so sweet. I had just gone with the flow and had adrenaline running through the roof.

  I couldn’t believe that I turned Anthony down. He had been so sweet and dropped the bad-boy routine as soon as I found out about his wife. Then, at the bar, he took my hands in his and asked me to come back to his place. I was actually pretty impressed that I said no considering how much alcohol was in my system already. Usually, that would have been a one-way ticket to his bedroom.

  I groaned as I pulled myself from the bed, not wanting to join the land of the living. I shuffled out into the hall and turned on the kitchen light, shielding my eyes from the fluorescent lighting that was trying to kill me this morning. I walked over to the coffee maker and loaded it up, happy that I had bought coffee the day before. Maybe my subconscious knew that I would need the pick-me-up this morning. God, if I had just said yes to Mr. Handsome, I would be waking up in the lap of luxury, probably in some penthouse in Manhattan, feeling the soft blankets around my body. He probably had people to make his coffee for him.

  I picked up the mug of hot coffee when it was done and sat down on the stool at the center island. My mind drifted off to the night before as I felt the hot steam billowing over my face. I never thought in a million years I would ever get to eat dinner at that restaurant—I mean, celebrities ate there, not yoga instructors. Everything had been so perfect, even down to the explanation of his ring, which was incredibly endearing, to say the least. He was so damn handsome too, with his strong muscles, his thick build, and his dreamy Italian eyes. His hair looked like it would take longer than mine to do, and his suit didn’t have a single wrinkle in it.

  When we were walking down the street to the bar, I couldn’t help but take in his scent. It was so subtle but sent shivers up my spine. I was so used to men drowning in their cologne, trying to cover up the fact that they hadn’t showered in two days. Anthony was definitely a breath of really good-smelling air.

  I set down my cup of coffee and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out the cereal and a bowl. I needed to get some food in my stomach so I could get rid of this absolutely terrible headache. I glanced down at my phone, which was plugged into the charger, and was slightly disappointed that there weren’t any missed calls or messages. Maybe Anthony was exactly the guy I thought he was, and after not getting any, he decided to bail on me. I went to pour more coffee when a knock came to the door. I glanced up at the clock wondering who the hell would be knocking on my door at eight in the morning.

  “Hold on,” I hollered out.

  I jogged down the hallway and grabbed my robe off the back of the door, not wanting whoever this was to see me without a bra. It was too early for this shit, and I knew it wasn’t the religious freaks; they were in church at that time of morning. I peeked through the hole in the door and scrunched my brow, recognizing the man as the one who drove me home last night. Maybe I’d left something in his car. I opened the door and pulled my robe closed, staring out at him.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “Absolutely,” he said with an Italian accent. “Mr. Cartucci has sent me here to request your presence this morning. You are to accompany me.”

  “And where would we be going?” I was kind of floored but didn’t want to give in so easily.

  “Mr. Cartucci has asked that you have a little faith,” he said as if he memorized the words. “He said dress comfortably and wear or bring a sweater.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll need a few minutes.”

  “Of course,” he said with a bow. “I will be waiting for you downstairs. Whenever you are ready is fine.”

  I closed the door and stood there for a moment before tearing my robe off and running down the hall. This was so damn exciting, and I really loved surprises. I pulled on a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and a sweater over top. I wore my Keds and rolled up the bottom of my pant legs. I looked in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and smoothed down my crazy hair, feeling like I was in some kind of romantic comedy. I didn’t want to keep him waiting, so I spritzed on a bit of essential oil spray, dabbed a bit of lip gloss on, and headed down to the car.

  As we pulled away, I grasped my purse in my lap, looking out the window as we passed the park. Where in the world could we be going? Anthony sure was full of surprises, and I knew they could all just be a trap, but hell, I wasn’t going to turn down being pampered by a super handsome billionaire that made my heart flutter every time I thought about him.

  I watched out the window as the car slowed, pulling into the harbor where all the rich people stored their boats for the winter. He pulled up to the dock and got out, opening my door and helping me out of the car. I looked out at the water and then back at him, wondering where Anthony was. I joked in the back of mind that it probably wasn’t wise to go out on a boat with a New York Italian, but I tried not to laugh out loud. The driver showed me down the dock and stopped in front of a very large yacht. He nodded at me and walked back toward the car.

  I stood there for several moments, wondering what I was supposed to do. Suddenly a young blonde girl dressed in a white polo, white chinos, and boat shoes popped up in front of me. She smiled and reached her hand out.

  “Ms. Young,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you. Right this way.”

  I took her hand and fumbled slightly on board, being familiar with boats, but nothing this large and luxurious. I followed the girl to the front of the ship and smiled as she stood to the side and motioned for me to sit down. I took a seat at a large wooden table that looked out over the ocean. There were staff of the ship walking everywhere, but I still didn’t see Anthony. The blonde girl came over and placed a coaster and a champagne glass in front of me, filling it with a mimosa. I smiled at her and picked it up, sipping at the sweetness in the glass. I wasn’t even sure what I was supposed to do at that point, so I just sat there waiting.

  I crossed my legs and took in a deep breath, feeling the breeze off the water rush over my skin. It was pretty chilly, and I was glad that Anthony had thought to include instructions on what I should wear. Most men didn’t think about, much less care about, things like that. One thing was for sure, he was definitely thorough in his dating habit. I reached down and stabilized myself as the boat began to push from the dock. We aligned with the path out of the harbor and slowly moved forward.

  I could remember being a little girl and going out on the boat with my parents. I had always loved being on the water, especially in the summer when my father and I would do a bit of fishing. I would always throw them back, feeling bad for them, but my dad would keep them for dinner. It really wasn’t about the fish for me; it was about spending some quality time with my dad. As I sat there and thought about it all, Anthony walked out from the cabin, smiling and looking debonaire as usual. He was wearing white slacks and a blue sweater, and his smile was more than charming. I was very impressed.

  Anthony sat down just as the staff started to serve us a very large breakfast, which was definitely better than the bowl of cereal I was going to eat. As if we hadn’t seen each other in years, we both immediately broke into conversation, talking about our plans this week, talking about how we both loved the ocean, and just enjoying o
ur time with each other. We talked about Missy and Mason a tiny bit, and I mentioned that we had a dress fitting on Thursday and how much I wasn’t looking forward to an entire day there.

  We rode around all morning, and when we pulled back into the harbor, the car was waiting for us. He took my hand and led me off the boat, but I didn’t ask where we were going. At that point I trusted him, and I was just glad that he didn’t let my hand go as we walked down the pier. We drove off in the car toward the city, where it dropped us off in Times Square.

  “What are we doing here?” I smiled and looked up at the large screens.

  “You said you loved to walk around the city.” He smiled, taking my hand.

  I couldn’t believe that he had remembered that tiny detail from the first night that we met. This guy was impressing me at every turn. As the hours passed and we explored the city as I always loved to do, our bodies ended up closer and closer together. If we weren’t holding hands I was clutching his arm, and when we stopped at a crosswalk, he would put his arms around my waist and rested them there, barely cuddling.

  Around one p.m., he hailed a cab and I followed, not wanting to ruin whatever surprise he had in store. We pulled up in front of the Waldorf, and he led me inside. I looked at him with suspicion and smiled as we walked into their restaurant for brunch. It was really beautiful inside and very historic in nature. It was my idea of rich, everything perfect and very full of excess. We sat and talked, eating all kinds of different delicious foods that he had ordered ahead of time. I sat next to him in the chair and leaned my head on my hand, listening to him tell me stories about his first time living alone in New York. He may have been a billionaire, but he was still a normal guy, having experienced the same things everyone else did when they first lived in the city.

  My legs were crossed through his, and his hands moved down, rubbing on my thighs. I could feel a heat in my belly as I stared into his beautiful eyes, and my resolve began to fade away. Anthony looked at me with a small smirk, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a golden card key. He slid the key across the table and smiled, reaching across and kissing me before standing. I stared down at the card and then back at him as he walked from the restaurant and to the elevators. Now was the moment of truth.