Longing For His kiss

by Sherri Hayes

  His answering smile had nervous butterflies dancing in her belly. “That’s perfect. How about I pick you up at six? That will give me time to make the reservations and change.”

  “Sure,” she said. The butterflies were fluttering away with no sign of stopping. “Six.”

  Picking her up at her house? Reservations? Whether it was supposed to be or not, it was sounding very much like a date.

  Donation more $10, download any books in one month

  Chapter 4

  Grace checked her reflection in the mirror for the sixth time. She had no idea what to wear so she’d stuck with a dark blue skirt she’d had for a while and a simple white shirt. They were going to dinner and she wanted to look halfway put together on the outside even if she was feeling like a jumbled mess on the inside.

  The thought of putting herself out there again scared the hell out of her. She’d only dated a few guys before she’d met Kurt in her freshman year of college. Even if she found a Dom who would meet her submissive needs and forget about the rest, she’d still have to open herself up to someone new and that wasn’t something she’d done, at least not on such an intimate level, for over a decade. She also knew that wasn’t what her husband had asked of her. He wanted her to move on, and she knew that meant more than just finding a new Dom.

  But first things first. She’d go out to dinner with Alexander, talk, and try to have a good time. Baby steps.

  The sound of her doorbell sent her heart racing. Not a date, she reminded herself.

  After looking through the peephole to confirm it was Alexander, she unlatched the chain and opened the door. He was dressed in a suit and tie, freshly shaved—and in one hand he held a black cane.

  “I’m a little early,” he said, bringing her attention to his face once more. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready, but I didn’t want to sit out in my car like some crazy stalker.”

  She knew it was meant as a joke, but she was too anxious to laugh. “Let me grab my purse, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

  Before he was able to respond, Grace hurried inside and snatched her purse from where she’d left it in the kitchen. He was still standing in the same spot when she returned, patiently waiting for her. She locked up and they headed out.

  He held the car door open for her and waited while she slid into the passenger seat. “You look nice this evening.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you.”

  Grace took several deep breaths as he made his way around the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel. It would make her look like a crazy person if she started to hyperventilate. This was not a date. They were . . . friends? Acquaintances? Two people having dinner together.

  Alexander pulled away from the curb and headed toward downtown. “This is supposed to be the best Italian restaurant in St. Louis. Being of Italian heritage, it’s hard to find places that live up to my standards.” He glanced over at her, humor in his eyes.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had anything besides spaghetti with sauce that came from a jar.”

  He gasped in mock horror. His gaze flashed in her direction, his eyes wide, before turning back to the road. “Blasphemy!”

  A bubble of laugher built in her chest and escaped her lips before she could stop it. It felt good. But there was a little voice in her head that told her she should feel guilty about that.

  When her laughter abruptly cut short, he noticed. “Feeling guilty?”

  She had no idea how he’d known that. “How did you—”

  “I’m a doctor, remember? And I was in the Army for ten years. I’ve seen survivor’s guilt many times.” He paused. “Too many times.”

  Survivor’s guilt. That pretty much summed it up. Why should she be happy and enjoy life when Kurt couldn’t?

  She already knew the answer to that, too.

  “You were happy and you felt guilty about it, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Like you shouldn’t get to go on and be happy because he can’t.”

  She pinched the fabric of her skirt with her fingertips and released it several times before answering. “Something like that.”

  Exactly like that.

  “I’ve experienced it myself.” He swallowed hard and she watched as he increased his grip on the steering wheel. “Sometimes it’s difficult to rationalize why you’re still here, living and breathing, and someone who has a family back home waiting for them isn’t.”

  Grace could hear the underlying pain in his voice and it was strangely comforting. This man she didn’t know very well understood, at least on some level, what she was feeling.

  “How do you deal . . . get past it?” It was the unknown that had been lingering all around her.

  “You don’t.”

  That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting.

  He shot her a quick look before pulling up in front of the restaurant. She could already see a valet walking toward them. “It’s one of those things you have to take one day at a time, Grace. I’m not sure it’s something you ever really get over. It’s just something you learn to deal with.”

  Alexander opened his door, and then a second later her door opened as well. Another valet was there to help her from the vehicle. When Alexander joined her he had the cane with him again. She tried not to be obvious, but he must have noticed her staring at it as they were going into the restaurant.

  “You’re wondering about my cane,” he said once they were seated.

  She averted her gaze, unable to look him in the eye. For some reason his observation embarrassed her.

  “Grace.” His voice was soft but firm, and she couldn’t help but look up. “It’s fine. I was wounded. My left leg was crushed, so sometimes I overdo it and have to use a cane.” He paused. “All in all, I was very lucky.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no reason to be sorry. It is what it is. As I said, I was one of the lucky ones.”

  She didn’t get the chance to respond as their server came up to their table to get their drink orders. “Do you like wine?” Alexander asked her.

  “Yes, but it’s been a while.” The last time she had some was with Kurt. It was right before his last deployment. He’d taken her to her favorite restaurant, and then they’d come home, curled up by the fire, drunk an entire bottle of wine, and ended up making love on the couch.

  The memory had tears prickling her eyes and she had to blink them away. When she had control of herself again, the waiter was gone and Alexander was staring at her. She reached for the water the waiter had brought and took a sip.

  Grace was sure he would say something about her emotional state, but instead he said, “I ordered us some burrata to get us started.”

  “Thanks.” She was grateful he didn’t bring up her extreme reaction to his question about the last time she’d had wine.

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled and picked up his menu. “Have you ever been to a restaurant like this before?”

  She shook her head. The restaurant itself was fancy. White linens covered the tables and the waiters and waitresses were all in black and white tux-like uniforms. A single candle sat in the center of their table, creating a romantic ambiance. Grace could safely say she’d never been to a restaurant like this before.

  “Traditionally there are five courses.” He pointed to the sections on her menu.

  It was then she noticed the prices. All the breath seemed to leave her lungs and she tried to find the right words so as not to offend him.

  Once again, he seemed to know what was going through her mind. “Ignore the prices, Grace. I asked you to join me tonight.” When she didn’t comment, he added, “Would you prefer if I ordered for the both of us?”

  Unable to get the words out, Grace met his gaze and nodded.

  A few moments later their waiter returned with the wine Alexander had ordered. He presented the bottle for Alexander’s approval, and then opened it and poured a sample for Alexander to taste. Once he approved the sample, the wa
iter poured them both a glass. Grace was almost afraid to drink it. She hadn’t looked at the wine prices, but if it was anything like the cost of the food she didn’t want to.

  “Did you need a few more minutes with the menu?” their waiter asked.

  “No, we’re ready,” Alexander said with what looked like a slight smirk on his face when he met her gaze. “For our second course we’ll have penne filetto di pomodoro and spaghetti aglio e olio. Followed by chicken bruschetta and—” He turned his attention to Grace. “Do you like veal?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had it,” she answered honestly.

  He switched his focus back to the waiter. “Veal Sorrentino. Then a bronzini and gamberi fra diavolo.”

  “And for dessert, sir?” The waiter seemed unfazed by the long list Alexander had given him.

  “Your tiramisu and your ricotta cheesecake with espresso con grappa.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll get this in for you right away and your burrata should be out shortly.” The waiter took their menus and disappeared.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Grace must have had a bewildered look on her face. “That’s a lot of food.”

  He reached for his wine and held it up as if he were about to give a toast. “Didn’t you know? Italians like to eat.”

  ***

  Alexander took a drink of his wine, never taking his gaze off her. He was enjoying the look on her face too much. She’d seemed genuinely horrified by the price of the food earlier. He was positive she’d been doing calculations in her head. He wasn’t rich by any means, but he could afford to splurge on a good meal once in a while.

  Gradually, a grin began to pull at her lips. “I guess I didn’t realize how true that was.”

  “I promise all your doubts will be gone by the end of the evening.”

  She started to say something, but then stopped when their waiter approached the table with their burrata and bread. Once he stepped away again, Grace seemed in no hurry to continue with whatever had been on her mind.

  He cut open the burrata and motioned for her to help herself. “You said you worked in a café.”

  “Yes.” After several long moments, she seemed to realize he wanted her to elaborate. “It’s not far from here, actually. The woman who owns it, Beth, she’s really nice.” Grace paused. “Working there has really helped me, with . . . you know.”

  The wheels were turning in Alexander’s head as the pieces began slipping into place. He pushed them out of the way for the moment and reached out to lightly touch the back of her hand. “I do.”

  A moment passed between them, one that those around them wouldn’t understand. It was one of understanding, grief, and of picking up the pieces when life threw you a curveball that knocked you flat on your ass.

  She caught him slightly off guard when she flipped her hand over and rested her palm against his. “Thank you.”

  Alexander gave her hand a slight squeeze and grabbed the bread, offering her some more. “I meant what I said the other day. If you need me, all you have to do is ask.”

  Grace nodded.

  For the rest of their dinner he tried to keep things light, although he was dying to ask more about Beth and the café where Grace worked. Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence? Beth was a common name and St. Louis was a big city, but how many Beths could there be in St. Louis who also owned cafés? And if it was the same Beth, did she know that his Grace was her employee?

  Calling her his Grace seemed wrong somehow. She wasn’t his. She was Kurt’s. And even though Kurt was gone, it still felt like she belonged to him.

  His gaze traveled to the necklace she wore. Maybe that was it. If it was in fact a collar and she still wore it, then she still belonged to him.

  Which was completely irrelevant when it came down to it because Alexander wasn’t looking to start anything with Grace Martin. He was there to watch over her—to be her friend. That was it.

  At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

  Hours later, with their bellies full, they pulled up in front of her house, the last rays of the sun casting an almost orange glow on everything it touched. He turned off the engine and made his way to the passenger side of the vehicle to open her door. His leg was throbbing and he was having to lean on his cane, but he’d been taught you always walked a woman to the door and that’s what he was going to do.

  “Thanks,” she said, pulling her skirt down as she stood.

  “It’s me who should be thanking you.” Alexander closed the door. “I quite enjoyed the company. It gets boring having dinner with just yourself every night.”

  She chuckled and there was a slight redness in her cheeks. He felt that pull to her again he couldn’t explain and he didn’t want to examine too closely.

  As the evening wore on, Grace had begun to relax. He wasn’t sure if it was solely that she felt more comfortable with him or if the wine had something to do with it. Since he was driving, he’d limited himself to two glasses with dinner. Grace had polished off the rest of the bottle, but she wasn’t unsteady on her feet. That could have had something to do with the amount of food she’d eaten. He was sure it had been a while since she’d consumed that much in one sitting.

  Alexander began walking toward the house and, as he’d hoped, Grace followed him. He noticed she kept glancing at his leg again, which made him realize how much he must be leaning on his cane.

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t respond, so when they reached her door he stopped to face her. Her brow was furrowed and the edges of her mouth were turned down into a slight frown. He didn’t like it. Especially since only moments before she’d been in such a good mood. “Really, I’m fine. I worked out this morning, that’s all, and I’m paying the price for it now.”

  Grace met his gaze as if searching to see if he was really telling her the truth or only saying that to make her feel better. Whatever she saw, it must have satisfied her. “You should take better care of yourself.”

  Her reprimand was so out of character with the shy woman he’d known up to this point that he could barely contain his amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They stood there, unmoving, as if waiting for something. If this had been a date then this was when Alexander would have either been kissing her good night or seeing if she wanted to invite him in.

  But it wasn’t a date and this was Kurt’s widow. “Good night, Grace.”

  “Good night.”

  Alexander waited until she unlocked the door and went inside before heading back to his vehicle. He debated for about two seconds before deciding to drive to Serpent’s Kiss. It was still early—only nine thirty—and even though his leg needed rest, something more important drove him. He needed to talk to Beth, and going to her place of business wasn’t an option at this point.

  He barely acknowledged Bridget sitting at the coat check as he passed by her to enter the club’s main room. If he was being honest, he barely noticed her. The pain in his leg was getting worse the more he stood on it. He knew he should have gone home and waited to talk to Beth, but he wasn’t willing to wait a week to find out if what he suspected was true.

  As he scanned the room looking for Beth, he grew more irritated, both that he didn’t see her and because of his leg. He limped over to the bar, feeling like a man twice his age, and took a seat.

  “What can I get you tonight?” Brandon asked.

  He wasn’t looking for a drink, but the bartender might be able to help him anyway. “I’m looking for Beth. Is she here tonight?”

  “Yeah.” He looked over Alexander’s shoulder. “They were here a few minutes ago to get some waters. I think . . . there they are,” he said.

  Alexander turned. Beth was in a midnight blue corset, a matching thong, and a pair of boots that came halfway up her thigh.

  “I think they are heading upstairs to play.”

  By the looks of it, Alexander would have to agree. “Thanks.”

  Forcing his legs to move, he cross
ed the room to where she was waiting at the bottom of the staircase. She was facing away from him as he approached, so she didn’t see him until he was almost on top of her.

  “I didn’t realize you were here tonight.” She was relaxed and smiling, ready to have some fun with her sub.

  “I need to speak to you about something.” His tone must have alerted her something was off because he saw some of her good mood disappear.

  Drew chose that moment to come out of the locker room. His feet were bare and all he was wearing was a pair of jeans. He walked up to them and stood beside his mistress.

  Beth placed a hand on Drew’s naked chest and met his gaze. “Go upstairs and get into position. I’ll be up in a minute.”

  He didn’t move right away, and she gave him a look that let him know it hadn’t been a request.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Once they were alone again, she was all business. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

  Alexander needed to sit down, so without saying anything he made his way over to a chair a few feet away.

  She followed and took the seat opposite him.

  “It’s been a long day and I’m not going to beat around the bush. Does Grace Martin work for you?”

  Beth didn’t blink. It was almost as if she’d expected his question. “Yes.”

  “You knew she was the woman I was looking for.” He hadn’t meant it to come out as an accusation exactly, but he knew that was the way it sounded.

  She nodded. “A few weeks ago you mentioned her name was Grace. And before you’d said she was the widow of an Army friend of yours who’d been killed.”

  He took some time for that to sink in, not wanting to lash out at her because of his pain. Besides, if she’d said something to him earlier, would it have really made a difference? If he recalled correctly, Alexander had mentioned Grace’s name to their group of friends at the club only days before he’d gone to see her that first time.

  “Grace told me you make sure she eats while she’s at work.”

  Beth relaxed the set of her shoulders, but didn’t sit back in her chair. Alexander knew he needed to let her go so she could join her sub.