Part 15 (2/2)
She heard the unexpected enthusiasm in the cadence of his voice. ”Sure, we can talk.”
”Great, where? When? Want me to come there?”
He sounded like a b.u.mbling boy with a crush, and it made Danica laugh despite her reservations about meeting him. She quickly thought about where they should meet. Someplace public. Someplace where she wouldn't risk letting her emotions take over. Someplace she could test his ability to focus on her instead of the women around her. This is so wrong. What a b.i.t.c.h to think like that. s.h.i.+t. What am I doing? Maybe I should forget the whole thing. ”I don't know if this is-”
”Please, don't,” he pleaded. ”I'm not that guy who walked into your office a few weeks ago. I promise I'm not. Please, just talk to me.”
Danica sighed. ”Okay.” If they met at her office, it would be easier to keep her professional facade.
”Can I take you to dinner?”
Dinner? A date? Am I overthinking? It'd be public. ”Um, I'm not sure-”
”Danica, please?”
Danica placed her hand over her racing heart. ”Yeah, okay, sure.”
”The Embers? Should I pick you up?”
”No, it's okay. I'll meet you there.”
”Seven?”
Danica needed some modic.u.m of control. ”Eight.”
”Okay, then. Eight it is. Thank you, Danica. I'll see you then.”
I'm in trouble.
Danica walked the five long blocks to the restaurant, hoping that by the time she arrived, the b.u.t.terflies in her stomach would get tired of fluttering around. The restaurant came into view, and she stopped to survey her outfit one last time. Beneath her long, quilted coat, she wore a black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees, her favorite Nine West heels-the only ones she didn't mind walking five blocks in-and a white, low-cut blouse. Before she'd left the condo, she'd felt she looked appropriate for an evening business meeting; now, as her heart pounded and her cheeks flushed, she wondered if her skirt was too tight and her blouse too low.
She took a deep breath and hoped the snow that was threatening the night sky would wait until after midnight, as expected. Her hands grew clammy despite the cold air. It's just dinner with a client. Then why am I worried about my hands suddenly shooting across the table and touching him? She shoved them in her fur-lined pockets. She concentrated on the sidewalk and approached the entrance to the restaurant.
The Ember's dim lighting sent the b.u.t.terflies flurrying again. Danica took off her coat, surprised by her trembling hands.
”Party of one?” the hostess asked.
I wish. ”No, two. I'm meeting someone here.”
The hostess looked at the roster of patrons on the podium before her, then looked up with a smile. ”Danica Snow?”
”Yes, that's me.” She felt like she was on a blind date. Danica sucked in her stomach and forced a smile.
The hostess turned. ”Follow me. Your party is right this way.”
She followed the young woman down the restaurant corridor, into the main dining room, and through an archway in the back of the restaurant. Her chest tightened. Every step was like walking in wet concrete. She clenched her jaw against the urge to flee, and by the time she'd come up with enough excuses to turn and run away-I'm suddenly ill...I left my kettle on-she was standing beside a booth and Blake was coming to his feet, leaning toward her, kissing her cheek.
The hostess put a menu down on Danica's side of the booth. ”Enjoy your dinner.”
”Thank you,” Danica managed. She sat down, trying not to stare hungrily at the opening at the top of Blake's white, b.u.t.ton-down dress s.h.i.+rt. He had a ridiculous smile on his lips, and Danica felt a bit like she was on display. She fiddled with her neckline, pulling her blouse across her cleavage, and then watched the s.h.i.+rt slide right back into place, this time knowing the plunging neckline was too revealing. Great.
”I'm so glad you agreed to meet me. You look beautiful.”
Thank you? Did I say that? Did I think it? s.h.i.+t.
Blake smiled. ”Sorry. I probably shouldn't tell you that.” He looked down at the table.
”No, it's okay.” I guess I didn't say it after all.
He looked back up at her. ”I'm sorry. I don't mean for this to be awkward. I wish there was some way we could just pretend that we've just met or something.”
Had he read her mind? She was wis.h.i.+ng for the same thing. ”Maybe that's not a bad idea.”
Blake extended his hand across the table. ”Hi, I'm Blake Carter. Previous player, ski shop owner, mediocre friend-but I'm working on that.”
Danica shook his hand. ”Danica Snow, therapist, sister, and, well, I'm probably only a mediocre friend, too.” She didn't want to take her hand back. The feel of his soft palm enveloping her slim hand brought a rush of flutters to her stomach. She wondered if the tension behind his eyes was driven by the same heady feeling she was experiencing. Trying to find a balance between desire and appropriateness was not something she was accustomed to. She had never had the problem of business and desire coalescing. But ever since that kiss, Danica had been thinking more and more seriously about letting go of her therapy license altogether and following her dream instead of her parents'.
They both released their grip at the same time. Danica blew out a breath. ”Okay, now that the formalities are over...” She heard her therapist voice coming from her lips. Her safe haven. She swallowed that voice and allowed her everyday voice to take over for once. ”How have you been?” It took all of her focus not to allow her typical client-therapist follow-up questions to come spewing out of her mouth. ”How's Sally?” A safe topic.
Blake flagged over the waitress and ordered a bottle of wine. After the waitress went to retrieve the bottle, he looked a bit more relaxed than he had the moment before. Danica saw the attentiveness in his eyes that she'd noted in the cafe the first time they'd met-right before he'd looked at the blonde. Now he held her gaze, never wavering toward the attractive waitress or, Danica noted, even turning toward the sounds of three comely women laughing around a small table in the corner of the room. Chalk one up for Blake.
Danica listened as he described the scene that unfolded when he'd told Sally about the other woman. ”And I guess our town is smaller than I'd ever thought, because Rusty stormed in, armed with information about his father having another son.”
The waitress poured them each a gla.s.s of wine and took their orders. Danica leaned one elbow on the table, taking in the acceptance in Blake's voice about the revelation that Dave wasn't someone other than what he portrayed. The way he looked at Danica, like she was the only one in the room, pulled her right in.
”Danica, I didn't come to talk about Sally and Rusty.”
Danica repositioned herself in her seat. Me neither.
”And I didn't ask you to meet me to make you uncomfortable.”
Too late. For the first time in her life, she had the urge to kick off her heels under the table and run her toes up the inside of his pant leg. What on earth is happening to me? She dug her heels into the carpet beneath her feet.
”I don't know how we went from talking about my life, to,” he leaned across the table and spoke softly, ”kissing.”
Danica was thankful for his apparent respect for their privacy.
”But it did, and I'm not sorry about that. I know I should be, but ever since that day when I whacked your nose, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind.”
Danica was usually the direct one. She fiddled with the napkin in her lap, suddenly at a loss for words. She wasn't sorry either, but it was wrong. She dropped her eyes, thinking about what she was going to say-what she really felt. b.u.t.terflies, wandering toes, and the way she secretly salivated at his touch, took over any restraint she knew she should portray. ”I'm not sorry either.” She met his eyes and watched them dart from her eyes to her mouth. She lifted her hand and covered her Cindy Crawford mole.
He reached across the table and gently touched her wrist, using pressure so light it was almost nonexistent, to move her hand away from her face. ”Don't. You're beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.”
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