by Aria Ford
“Thanks,” she said.
I tensed. Her fingers were warm and soft and just that brief contact had jolted down my arm and into my groin and made me imagine, in detail, what it might be like to touch her more.
She seemed to be thinking something similar, because her cheeks were just a shade pinker than they had been. I gulped and took away my hand quickly.
“Thanks,” she said again, wiping her cheeks. Absurdly, I wished I was that napkin, to be pressed to the petal-soft skin of her cheek. I sighed, making myself shift focus.
“Sorry,” she continued. “I just… she died about five years ago. I wished she could have seen me at my first job. She couldn’t make it to my graduation—she was too frail to attend. But I wonder sometimes what she would think of my work.”
“She’d like it,” I said without thinking. “I’m sure she would.”
Bethany gave me a sweet, sad smile. “I hope so.”
“Say,” I said after swallowing another mouthful of the delicious food, “I haven’t seen your work before.”
She grinned. “I guess not. Maybe I could find it on my phone…” She reached down for her handbag, rummaging around. I could see the dipping of her cleavage and I tried, unsuccessfully, to look elsewhere. Her breasts were round and full and firm and I could almost imagine their softness and the fragrance of her skin as I drew one into my mouth. She would have pink nipples, I thought, and they would be big and hard…
She swore. I shot up, aware that I’d been staring. My cheeks went red.
“Sorry, I…”
“What?” She frowned at me, a curious grin on her face. “You didn’t do anything! I was just swearing at my handbag. Got the phone stuck in the front pocket again… you know how they hide.”
I chuckled. “My phone gets lost in my briefcase all the time. I never thought about it hiding before.” I grinned at the image.
“Cheeky things, phones. Ah, here we are. I wanted to show you some shots from my portfolio…” She frowned, a little wrinkle between her defined eyebrows, as she scrolled down.
I noticed the time. It was just past one o’ clock. I’d said I’d be back at one thirty to prepare for the board meeting.
I swore. “Sorry,” I said when she looked up. “I gotta go. I want to see those pictures, though,” I said slowly. An idea occurred to me. “You know what?”
“What?” she frowned.
“You free tomorrow night?”
“No,” she said. She looked sad. “I’m free tonight, but…”
“Tonight? Great,” I said quickly, before I had a chance to think my way through it. “Say, shall we have dinner or something?”
“Okay,” she said. She blinked with surprise. “I’d like that.”
“You would? I mean…great! Where?” I stammered.
She smiled. “You have somewhere to recommend? I’ve not lived here since about eight years ago. I’m out of touch with the restaurant scene.”
“Oh!” I thought about it, then decided. “Haute,” I said.
“Sounds good,” she said with a shrug.
“I think you’ll like it,” I said recklessly. I was surprised at myself. I felt confident and at ease. And excited.
“I probably will,” she said with a slow smile. “At seven thirty?”
“Perfect,” I nodded.
“Great. See you then.”
“See you,” I agreed.
We looked at each other for a moment. It couldn’t have been a very long moment, but it felt like time stopped for that moment. I shrugged, shaking off the feeling that her eyes were pools and I was drowning in them.
“See you then,” she echoed. Softly, almost as if she was embarrassed, she stood, dropping her gaze. I felt my heart clench.
“Yes,” I said.
I stood and headed quickly to the counter to pay.
“Sorry to be in a rush like this,” I said to her as we went out of the door together. “But I have to run.”
“Not at all,” she said. “Thanks for the lunch.”
“My pleasure,” I said.
I meant it.
I left at a run, with twenty minutes to get up to my office and get ready for the meeting. I made it in fifteen.
“You look cheerful,” my secretary commented as I breezed out to the boardroom.
“I am,” I nodded.
I was.
I had just had an amazing lunch break, I had talked to a beautiful girl without embarrassing myself too much. And I was going to meet her for dinner.
Chapter 7: Bethany
“Bee?”
My mom’s voice echoed up the stairwell. I was standing in the center of my room, trying on a dress. I had done an internet search for the restaurant, Haute, and it seemed really fancy. Now I was trying to choose clothes. I turned from the mirror with a small frown.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Can you come and stir something quick, honey? I have a phone call.”
“Um…okay…” I sighed. It was six o’ clock and I’d promised to be there by seven thirty. I still had an hour. “I’m coming…”
I shrugged out of the dress and put it on the bed, dived into my shirt and jeans and ran downstairs. I found Mom in the kitchen, phone in one hand, stirring a big saucepan.
“And then I…oh! Thanks, honey. What was that, Claudia?”
I took the spoon and started stirring. I made a promise to myself that if Mom was still on the phone by six-thirty, I was going to have to go upstairs to change. Not that whatever it was would have to be on the stove that long. I studied it. White sauce? Probably.
“You said that to her? Good for you,” Mom was saying to Claudia. I could hear her chuckle from the hallway outside the kitchen. I smiled to myself and breathed in the familiar scents of home cooking.
Thoughts of Kyle went around my head. He was a mystery. But what he’d said today—about the flowers and kids and how they could change your outlook, and so change your life—had moved me. I found myself really impressed by him.
“He’s a weird guy,” I said to myself aloud. I found myself wondering about his life. He had clearly been born into a well-monied background, but there was something about him that seemed uneasy in certain situations. He was also, I was surprised to discover, quite shy.
No wonder I thought he was a snob when we met! He’s not like that. He just feels awkward and he covers it with indifference.
I smiled to myself, recalling some of the ways he was, well, just a bit hesitant in public situations. He seemed uncomfortable in conversation. But, then again, a lot of people I knew were like that. I was, after all, a complete stranger, more or less. He would take time to trust me.
“Bee! Thanks!” Mom arrived at my side, beaming.
“No worries, mom,” I said smilingly. “You were quick.”
She grinned. “Well, Claudia had to run. She’s got a dinner thing on tonight. Or I would probably never get away. Thanks, honey,” she added, taking the spoon from me and taking over. “I don’t know how I manage without your help sometimes.”
“You manage very well,” I said, joshing her shoulder playfully. “I never saw someone hold a phone with their cheek the way you do.”
She laughed. “These things…it’s the one problem I have with Steve Jobs. They don’t stick under your chin properly. It’s an issue with the design. He ought to have thought of it!”
I was still laughing when I went upstairs.
“Oh, Mom,” I said fondly. I took of my clothes and reached for the new ones I’d set out on the bed to wear tonight.
I had put out the dress I had worn to the hotel, but I wasn’t sure about it. I held it up and then put it down, choosing a lace skirt and a sort of oyster-colored blouse instead. I shrugged into it and then did my makeup. I had twenty minutes to get ready.
I drove to the restaurant feeling nervous. I really wanted to make a good impression on Kyle. Was my hair okay? My makeup? My top?
Come on, Bethany! I chided myself harshly. Why are you so nervous
?
I knew why. It was because I really liked Kyle: I wanted to get to know him better. And, yes, he was stunning. So stunning that my whole body went funny just thinking about him.
“Whoa,” I told myself, laughing. He was the heir of a vast fortune. And stunning. What the heck was he going to be looking at me for?
The guy could have any woman he wants. Any time he wants. Why is he asking me out?
I sighed. I didn’t understand him and thinking about it wasn’t going to make me know better.
All I could do, I resolved, as I frowned at the screen of my GPS and tried to figure out where the heck I was supposed to turn next, was go and find out more.
“Turn right at the next intersection.”
“I’m doing that now,” I said to the thing, chuckling to myself. I turned into a long street with tall buildings, and looked around.
“Destination will be on your left.”
“Great. Thanks,” I said dolefully. It was a long road. I looked for signs. “Ah! There.”
I stopped outside and swallowed hard, feeling a bit nervous as I walked up. My mouth was dry. It was a very fancy place and I felt a bit awkward. A waiter in a tuxedo came over.
“Good evening, madam.”
“Good evening,” I said tightly, alert from the fanciness of the place. “I’m here looking for…oh.”
He was at a table already. In a black suit, with a crisp shirt underneath, he was stunning. I felt my body melt as I looked at him. Oh. My.
I swallowed hard. “Hi,” I said as the waiter stood back, letting me enter the place. I drifted over to the seat and felt as if he was magnetic and somehow drew me in. I stopped at the table and tried not to stare.
“Hi,” he said smoothly. He stood and was about to draw my chair back when I started drawing it out. His arm brushed mine and I gasped a little breathlessly. He smiled at me. I laughed.
“Sorry,” I said.
“No worries.” The little frown when he said that was just so endearing. I felt my heart thump.
I sat down and took one of the menus, opening it. I looked up at him, smiling. He was looking at me with an expression of intense focus on his face. I felt my mouth go dry.
“It’s a good place,” I managed to croak. Hell, was wrong with me? I coughed.
“Should we order something to drink?” he asked. “I’ve ordered water for the table, but…”
“Oh, thanks,” I said. I looked into his eyes and that same slow heat washed through my body. I looked down at the menu again, feeling silly.
“Your water, sir,” the waiter said, appearing at my elbow. I thanked him, selected white wine for myself, and tried to distract my attention from the pressing fact that Kyle’s leg was under the table and not that far from mine.
I looked around the restaurant, seeing the warm gold light, the linen tablecloths, the long velvet drapes. The place was old-fashioned, expensive and lovely. I felt really touched that he had chosen to take me to this fancy place.
“It’s beautiful here,” I commented as the waiter disappeared to fetch our orders.
“It is,” he nodded. “I thought you’d like it.”
I blushed. It felt like a compliment. The way he was looking at me made it into one. I looked at my hands, shyly.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Muscadel?”
“Thank you,” I nodded as he put the wine next to me. He served Kyle and then disappeared discreetly. I sipped my wine and nodded, appreciatively.
“Good?”
“Very.”
I watched him drink a moment, staring at the fine, molded lips that pressed against the rim of the glass. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as I imagined those lips on my own. Or gently nipping the soft skin of my wrist.
I closed my eyes and tried to change my focus.
“You had traffic on your way?” I asked.
“Just missed it,” he commented with a smile. “I was worried I’d be late, but…thankfully not.”
Again, he seemed to genuinely care about having my approval. I smiled. “I was pleased to see you here when I arrived.”
“Thanks.”
I looked away again, dizzily aware of the fact that his hand was an inch away from mine and that under the table I could feel his warm, firm thigh.
He was looking at the menu and I took a sip of my drink and strained to think of a suitable topic of conversation.
“Where would you like to travel most?” I asked. As conversation topics go, it did rather spring out of nowhere, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Um… Japan,” he said quickly. “I remember my mom talking about it when I was little. I…” he trailed off, suddenly quiet.
“Oh?” I prompted.
“It just seems really different,” he finished lamely. I frowned. There was something he had been going to say, and then he changed the subject. I sighed, considering the best thing to do was just to ignore it.
“It does,” I agreed, taking another sip of my wine. “We had to study the art when I was in college,” I added. “It always seemed the most amazing art form, to me.”
“Oh?” He looked interested. “I guess I have seen the stuff, but…” he trailed off uncomfortably again.
“Yeah. I think we see a lot of Eastern influence in things here in the West,” I said. “I always liked the asymmetrical lines. We don’t do that in Western art—like, say, put only half a guy on a picture—but in real life you often only see half a guy—I mean, look in the doorway there. It’s a perfectly real worldview.”
“Yeah,” he said, frowning. “I guess. Which reminds me. I want to see your work.”
“Oh!” I smiled. I had come prepared for that. I fished into my handbag and produced a brochure, one I’d had printed before I had my full-time job. I passed it over. “It’s old stuff, from about five years ago, but…” I raised my shoulders in a shrug.
He took it from me. Seeing his muscled fingers flattening it on the tabletop made me feel surprisingly odd. He was looking at my work. Would he like it? I thought, self-consciously. I watched his face carefully. He smiled.
“Wow,” he said, looking up after a long moment. “These are good.”
I blushed. “Thanks,” I said. I had shown him a collection of plates, tea sets and other china I’d done. I had been particularly proud of them at the time. To have him like them warmed me up inside. I shifted in my seat, feeling flushed.
“Ready to order?”
Kyle and I looked at each other and laughed.
“Sorry,” Kyle said, with an embarrassed grin. “Come back in five minutes, please?”
“Of course, sir.”
We hastily looked at the menu. I instantly saw something I wanted. “Blue cheese soufflé with berry sauce.”
“Well, sounds good!” He grinned. “You chose quickly.”
I smiled. “I know what I like.” As I said it, I realized it was infused with double meaning.
He swallowed hard. “Oh?”
Our eyes met and held. I felt my body catch fire.
Easy, Bethany, I said to myself. I blushed and bit my lip.
“Um…ready to order?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said in a small voice. He waved the waiter over and we placed our orders. He had ordered the grilled fish, I noticed.
“Should go well with the wine,” I inclined my head, noting he had also taken a white wine.
“Oh. Yeah,” he nodded.
“I notice you don’t eat much meat,” I commented.
“I don’t, no,” he nodded again. “My father made me eat it when I was little. I always hated it, ever since they showed us those videos in school. You know, the ones with the slaughterhouse and that?”
“Me too!” I nodded vehemently. “I think all of us about our age saw the things. I don’t eat meat either. That’s horrible, that your father did that,” I said.
What kind of man was he, this father? I was instantly on my guard against him. My own parents might have argued a bit, but my father
was kind and I trusted him. He would never have done something like that! I was horrified.
He looked down, like he was embarrassed, almost as if he regretted telling me. “I guess it’s alright,” he mumbled. “He didn’t mean any harm. It was for the better.”
“I guess,” I said uncomfortably.
We sat in silence for a while. When he looked up, he was frowning. “Sorry,” he said. “I mean…I didn’t mean to be such downer.”
“You aren’t a downer!” I said instantly. “I like talking to you.”
“Oh?”
I laughed. “Yes!”
He gave me a boyish grin. “I guess it’s a bit dumb of me to think you didn’t,” he said. “I mean, you’re here, talking to me. Right?”
“Exactly.”
The waiter appeared with the dinner and I sampled mine, closing my eyes at the wonderful taste.
“Wow,” I said, licking the back of the fork to get the sticky goodness off. I heard Kyle cough.
“It’s good?” he said. He had gone a peculiar color and I felt my own loins ache in response.
“Very good,” I said.
