by Poppy Parkes
“You are both sexy and beautiful, I promise,” he reassured her. “But even more, I can sense a vibrancy within you. And that's powerful.”
“Well,” she said, shaking her curls back and speaking in a voice that sounded more haughty than she felt, “I am a hell of a woman, you know.”
Derek smiled wide, taking a deep breath. “You are. You are. And you have no idea the effect you have on me.”
Ruth ducked her head, embarrassed again, words eluding her. “Thanks?” she managed.
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, voice husky. “I want to take things slow with you, Ruth – but not because you don't turn me on. Quite the opposite.”
She had to grip the seat of the car with both hands, his words and his closeness and the warmth of his breath on the tendrils of her inner ear making her dizzy with – what? Arousal? As nice as Sam had been, she hadn't felt anything close to this with him.
Damn, Ruth thought as the car rumbled on through the darkening Boston streets toward the theater. She barely felt coherent. Damn. She once again resisted the urge to pinch herself. How was it possible that she was being wooed by this insanely handsome and sexy man, when just a week ago the most exciting thing in her life had been tapping away at her romance novel? And now, her reality was far better than any plot she'd concocted.
Damn. She sighed in a mixture of excitement and content, nestling into Derek's side as he snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. I could get used to this.
* * *
The car slowed and pulled up to the curb in front of the theater. Derek smiled as he watched Ruth lean forward in anticipation, taking in the brilliantly lit marquee and the people slowly filing in through the theater's gilt doors, the finely dressed crowd exuding a collective sense of elegance.
He slid from the vehicle, then quickly made his way around to the other side of the car and opened the door, extending an arm to help Ruth emerge.
She grasped his hand and pulled herself from the car, clutching her bag with the other hand. “Oh,” she breathed, taking in the scene, the light of the theater front's countless bulbs reflecting in her eyes like stars. “It's been so long since I've been to the theater.”
Murmuring directions to the driver, he closed the car door and the vehicle moved off. Derek turned his full attention to the woman who wound her arm around his, clasping his hand. A small tremor pulsed through him. This scenario was so foreign to him – he usually attended the theater alone, enjoying the quiet, anonymous intimacy he felt between himself and the story unfurling onstage. He never would have guessed he'd be here, wooing a woman with an eye on a future any more robust than a few tumblings through the sheets.
“And I've never been at night,” Ruth was continuing. “I usually just attend the matinees.”
“There's something special about the night shows.” Derek led her into the theater, the crowd seeming to part before them. Drawing two tickets from the inside pocket of his jacket, he handed them to one of the ticket-takers. Tearing their tabs away, the older woman passed them back with two playbills, raising an eyebrow over her horn rimmed glasses in simultaneous surprise and approval at the pair. “Enjoy the show,” she said with a wink.
Derek smiled and nodded, knowing the woman and steered Ruth into the vestibule of the theater.
“Do they know you here?” she asked, having caught the older woman's expression, leaning in close as they made their way toward the seating area.
He shrugged. “I enjoy the theater. I come often enough that I'm a familiar face to the theater employees, I suppose.”
“You take all the ladies here, then?” Ruth bit her lip, waiting.
Derek shook his head. “Never. The theater is too special for that.”
“It's so magical,” she agreed, unable to quite hide her relieved smile. “Especially at night. Look at everyone, all dolled up. It feels so, I don't know . . . classy.”
“It certainly reminds me of an earlier time, when evening theater was a society event,” he nodded, ordering two glasses of champagne at the bar in the lobby, handing one to Ruth who took an appreciative sip.
“I'm glad it's more accessible now to we who aren't exactly in the upper class. Although I suppose there's not much that's not accessible to you, lawyer man,” she teased.
“Right now the only thing I want access to, money can't buy,” he bantered right back.
“Oh, and what is that, sir?”
He leaned in close, feeling soft tendrils of her errant curls tickle his lips as he whispered, “You.”
Derek enjoyed watching her blush spread down her neck and across her cheeks as Ruth took a gulp of champagne.
They ascended the stairs to the second level, their fellow theater-goers gracefully flowing with them. Derek showed their tickets to an usher, who guided them to their seats.
Ruth tried to mute her squeal, with limited success. “Front and center balcony seats! How did you know that this is my favorite spot in the house?”
“I didn't,” he admitted, “It's my favorite, too. I much prefer a bit of a bird's eye view to the so-called illustrious front row seating on the main floor.”
“Great minds. And we can put our feet up on the wall of the balcony,” she pointed out as she shed her coat and they settled into their seats. “Although that would probably be totally uncouth, huh?”
“If it is, then I am utterly guilty of unrefined theater etiquette,” said Derek, handing Ruth one of the playbills.
He watched Ruth rifle through its pages, the dim light of the deliciously musty theater kissing her face and arms, making her skin glow. He wanted to run his fingers along her cheek, but didn't want to disrupt the delight that shone from her face as she flipped the playbill closed and took in the humming theater with a contented sigh.
“I love this moment,” she said, “just before the show begins. We are here, ensconced in the magic of the moment, but the entire production still spreads out before us. I adore this.”
Derek just smiled, nodding, as she closed her eyes and inhaled long and deep, relishing the experience. Listening to her, watching her obvious enjoyment made his heart beat faster. Is this what he'd been missing out on all these years in his fear of commitment, of getting close, of – if he was honest with himself – rejection? I'm beginning to see why people think love is worth the risk.
His breath caught in his throat for a moment at the resurfacing of the word love again. He never would have thought it possible for the notion of love to enter his consciousness and be met with anything other than his own derision.
The house lights dimmed briefly, signaling that the show was about to start. Derek saw Ruth's chest begin to rise and fall faster in anticipation, breasts swelling above her turquoise neckline. He took a long, slow breath, willing the lust stirring within him to quell. Slow, he told himself. We're going slow. He hoped that the waiting, the more languid pace of their relating would make their eventual joining that much sweeter. Or, that much hotter, he thought, smiling to himself.
To his relief, the house lights dimmed completely as the orchestra played forth the opening bars of the overture. Ruth slipped her hand into his and squeezed. Looking over, his eyes met hers, glimmering in the stage-lit darkness, and the energy between them felt electric.
Thank you, she mouthed, squeezing his hand one more time before turning back to the rising curtain, leaving her fingers tucked into his.
Derek sighed with gratitude. This woman – he didn't deserve her, that was for sure. And he still had no idea what it was about her that mesmerized him so, although he was beginning to think it was that inner fire that she was starting to let burn ever more brightly. All he was certain of was that he was glad she'd given him a chance. He wouldn't let it go to waste.
* * *
Ruth tried to focus on the menu that she held open, but couldn't seem to get her mind or eyes to cooperate. She and Derek were tucked into an intimate corner booth at an Italian restaurant on the North End, but she was st
ill buzzing with the energy and artistry of the musical. Not to mention the unsteadying effect Derek's close proximity had on her.
“What will you have?” he asked.
She closed her menu, shaking her head. “I have no idea. I cannot manage to wrap my brain around a single one of what I'm sure are exquisite entrees. Any recommendations?”
He smiled and nodded, gesturing to the waiter and murmuring their order. Ruth was barely listening. I wish I could bottle this feeling and savor it forever, she thought, sighing happily again. This must be what bliss feels like.
Derek turned to her, raising his glass of red wine, and she raised her own to match. “To the most exquisite date I have ever been on, with the most exciting woman I have ever known.” He winked at her over the lip of his wine glass.
She smiled into her glass as she sipped at its contents. She relished the acrid, fruity taste of the wine as it washed over her tongue and down her throat, almost immediately relaxing her muscles.
“What did you think of Phantom?” Derek asked. “Was it everything you'd hoped for?”
“Well,” she said, setting her glass down and tracing over its circular base with a finger, thoughtful, “it was certainly gorgeous. And the music is just – wow. Like nothing else.”
“But . . . ?” he smiled knowingly.
She shook her head. “It's the character of Christine. Could she get any more wishy washy? I mean, she's engaged to Raoul, but then falls for this creepy guy who kidnaps her, and she spends the rest of her life torn between the two, even after she and Raoul are married? She annoyed me.”
“I'm surprised you aren't more empathetic with her attraction to a completely unsuitable man,” Derek teased.
“Ouch,” she laughed. “But I am so not Christine, even though I may be acting a bit unwisely in love. She was betraying Raoul. I'm not betraying anybody. Except maybe my common sense.”
“Now it's my turn to say ouch,” he said good naturedly.
Ruth wrinkled her nose. “That sounded bad, didn't it? I just mean – well, you know. There's your history. But it's not like you've kidnapped me and I've gone all Stockholm Syndrome.”
“Well, that's true.”
“And you certainly are pulling out all the stops to win me over, while the Phantom mostly just bullies Christine and plays mind games.”
“And,” Derek pointed out, “purposely creates a devastating and life-threatening theater set accident.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “Yes, and that. I find it hard to draw much of a parallel between you and the Phantom, given the evidence. Just don't say I'm like Christine.”
“Oh, you've got her trumped by far,” Derek murmured, planting a kiss on the back of Ruth's hand. “And you're right, she is rather annoyingly indecisive.”
“Anyway,” Ruth said, taking a sip of wine, “I loved the musical as a whole. It's just the one character that turned me off.”
“So, the date is a success?”
“Utterly.” She smiled, cocking her head at a flirty angle.
“That's a relief,” said Derek, and she was surprised to see a faint blush spread across his cheeks for a change. “Truly. My dating muscles are more than a little rusty.”
“Um, if tonight was your rusty attempt, I'm not sure I could handle a seasoned effort,” joked Ruth. “I think you'd overwhelming me with pleasure.”
Derek leaned in close, making her give a tiny gasp of surprise. “I'm looking forward to overwhelming you with pleasure,” he rasped, voice suddenly thick with arousal. Ruth felt goosebumps dance pleasurably up and down her arms. She shivered.
And then, as quickly as he'd shifted gears, Derek leaned back and said in an easy voice as she struggled to compose herself, “I have to confess, I never thought dating could be much fun. But I am enjoying myself immensely. Mostly because I get to share it with you.”
“Well,” said Ruth, swallowing hard, willing her voice to steady, “that's very flattering.”
“I'm not trying to flatter, just speaking the truth.”
She nodded her head, words escaping her again, and looked up gratefully to see the waiter carrying their plates of food toward them.
“I hope you enjoy my selection,” Derek said as the waiter deposited the two steaming, immaculately prepared dishes before them.
Ruth inhaled the scent of the food. “Mmm. Is that salmon?”
Derek nodded, a worried expression shadowing his face. “Is that okay? You're not allergic are you?”
She smiled. “I adore salmon.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “Good. I'm getting so lucky tonight with all these home run choices. I wish I could take credit for them.”
Savoring her first bite of the delicious fish, she shook her head. “I'm the lucky one. I've never been so pampered.”
“That's a shame,” he replied, “because you are so worth this and more, Ruth. Believe it.”
She took another bite of salmon to avoid having to respond. A bundle of nerves and excitement stirred in her belly that had nothing to do with the amazing meal.
I think I'm falling for this guy, she thought, watching him enjoy his own dish in the muted, glowing light of the restaurant, meeting her eyes for a moment with a smile that made her legs feel weak in a way that had nothing to do with the wine.
Ruth wondered if she should be worried that she was feeling herself falling hard for Derek. There were so many reasons to hold herself back. But she couldn't bring herself to care about a single one of them.
* * *
When Ruth got back to her apartment, the sight of her familiar couch and mint-colored walls and plants and just everything dimmed the golden haze that had settled about her heart over the course of the evening, bringing her feet back to earth. She sighed, leaning against the inside of the front door, closing her eyelids against the stark mundane of her home as she replayed the final moments of her time with Derek in her mind.
After they'd finished eating at the restaurant, he'd ordered the car to retrieve, and had helped her inside.
“The driver will take you home,” he'd told her through the still open door.
She'd frowned up at him. “You're not coming?”
“I'll take the T,” he said, shaking his head.
“But that's ridiculous. You rented a car, for goodness sake. At least let it take you home.”
He put his lips to her ear. “If I am in this car when it drops you at your place, I'm not sure I'll be able to resist going upstairs with you.”
And then he'd planted a deep, sensual kiss that made her glad she was already sitting down. She'd pressed her lips back, inhaling his scent as he twined his fingers through her curls, feeling her arousal awaken and begin to throb. When he finally pulled away, they were both wearing openly dopey grins.
“Until next time,” he'd said with a mischievous smile that completely undid her. She'd kept her eyes on him as the car had pulled away from the curb with her inside, half wanting to tell the driver to stop so she could invite Derek home, going slow be damned. But somehow she'd held off.
Now, she still couldn't decide if she was relieved or sad that she would be going to bed alone. Who am I? she wondered.
Ruth shrugged her coat off and hung it in her apartment's hall closet and then, kicking off her pumps, she twirled in her living room in glee before collapsing onto the couch with a happy sigh, closing her eyes.
Did tonight actually happen? It seemed impossible. And yet, when she opened her eyes, she was still wearing the amazing turquoise dress, and when she pulled her phone from her bag she saw that Padme has left her no more than ten text messages.
Is Derek ravishing you?!?!? the most recent one said.
Ruth rolled her eyes and left the rest of the messages unread, typing back, Because I'd be texting you if he was?
She'd barely tossed the phone back into her handbag before it buzzed with Padme's reply. So how was it?!
There are no words for it , Ruth wrote back wearing a dreamy smile, knowing that no
thing could be closer to the truth.
Chapter 9
Derek awoke with a start, his entire body hurled into a quick, jerking convulsion that startled him out of a rich dream.
He frowned at the ceiling of his gray-painted bedroom, heart thudding, and tried to hold onto the warm feeling of his slumber. What had he been dreaming about? It was odd for him that he'd awake with any sense of dreaming at all. His nights usually felt unpopulated, thick with comforting dark and no neurological wanderings.
In a rush, memory of the night before flooded in. The theater, dinner, Ruth tucked up to his chest in the car, the weight of her body against his intoxicating and terrifying. And that, in turn, triggered the recollection of his dream. Ruth was there, and Sam, he realized with a jolt. The three of them were standing at the entrance to one of the rings of a three ring circus, the round space open before them. Ruth had led Sam forward, into the circular space. When they reached the center, they turned to face him. Sam stood behind her, encircling his arms around Ruth, a hand stretching wide across her lower abdomen. As he did, she smiled. “I'm pregnant,” she'd said, and the silent crowd sitting in the audience seating crashed into wild applause.
