“Explain,” Grace said, all no-nonsense.
Mia told her about Boston and the childhood stories James had shared. How he helped her with her book. And then about the stony-faced, serious agent who couldn’t keep his hands off her, the sweet man who sent her gifts, and then the scared and guilt-laden man who walked away from her after she was abducted.
“This past week it’s like he found a new persona. It’s kind of a combination of all three. He’s so sweet to me in person, which I hadn’t seen before. The gifts were always mailed to me, and when I went to thank him we had sex and didn’t talk about it. Now he’s flirty, yet I can see the heat in his eyes.”
“You’re in love with him.”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Everyone?”
“My brother. The night of the dance. He was scared I was, and when I told him I wasn’t he seemed relieved. Said Ryan wasn’t good for me.”
Grace grimaced and shook her head. “The ultimate piss off thing to say to a stubborn woman. You sure your infatuation with the agent isn’t to get back at your brother?”
“I’m not infatuated.” Grace’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifted in disbelief. “Fine. Maybe a little. I like him, but I can’t afford to like him too much.”
“Why?”
For many reasons. He lived in New York, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for a relationship, and she didn’t think he was interested in anything but a sexual relationship anyway.
She went with the most obvious. “He lives in New York. I don’t want a long-distance relationship based on sex once a month or whenever he can make his way to Maine.”
“Move to New York.”
Mia didn’t respond and walked off to wander the store. Could she move to the city? She was a country girl. Her family was here. She was about to become an aunt. Her best friends were here.
However, she could write and illustrate anywhere. Her agent and publisher were in New York.
Instead of answering, Mia roamed the store pretending to shop. Grace left her alone for a few minutes and then came up behind her.
“Try this on.” She held out a blue sweater. It was simple in its cut with a slight V-neck and long sleeves and looked incredibly soft. “It’s cashmere. You’ll never want to take it off. But your agent...” A wicked grin took over her face.
“You’re relentless.” Mia took the sweater from her and went into the changing room. Grace was right. She didn’t want to take it off. Ever. She’d never worn such soft, rich material before.
“Let me see.” Without waiting for a reply, Grace opened the curtain. “Oh, yeah. That blue will go so well with his eyes.”
“His eyes are dark brown.”
“I know. Just checking. But seriously, the blue is stunning. Electric blue with your dark hair and eyes; you’re gorgeous. Where’s dinner?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, there aren’t too many fancy places around here so to be safe, I’d wear this with a pair of black jeans and cute booties.” Grace picked up Mia’s ponytail. “And wear your hair down. Guys love that.”
“I’m not looking to impress him.” Grace lifted her brow again. “You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep doing that.”
“Your nose is going to grow if you keep lying to yourself.”
Mia stuck out her tongue and pushed Grace out of the dressing room, closing the curtain in her face.
She changed back into her sweatshirt and brought the cashmere sweater to the register. Grace folded it with expert care and wrapped it in tissue before sliding it into a bag. Mia took out her wallet and set her card on the counter.
Grace handed it back. “My gift to you.”
“Not a good way to run a business. I’m paying for the sweater.”
“Borrowing or keeping?”
Mia contemplated. “Keeping.”
“Well then, Merry Christmas. Don’t expect another gift from me this year.” Grace reached over the counter and dropped the credit card in Mia’s purse. “Go home and shower. It’s going to take hours to make you look presentable.” She waved her off with her hand.
“Bossy bitch,” Mia muttered under her breath with a smile.
“Right back at ya.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Grace was right. It took Mia forever to get her hair looking soft and natural and not frizzy. She wore it down in relaxed curls and worked on her face, applying a thin layer of eyeliner and mascara. Nothing too much, or Ryan would know she went to a lot of trouble for tonight.
The sweater hugged her body like a luxurious blanket and showed off her curves without being too fitted. Her black skinny jeans and the boots Grace suggested completed the look.
Pretty and still somewhat casual. That was what she was going for. At six on the dot her doorbell rang.
Ever since her kidnapping she started keeping the outside door at the bottom of the back staircase locked, as well as the door to her apartment at the top of the stairs. Mia draped her coat over her arm and made sure her keys and phone were in her purse.
Locking up behind her, she slowly made her way down the stairs, not wanting to appear too anxious. She turned on the outside light so it wouldn’t be completely dark when they returned.
Ryan stood patiently at the door, both hands behind his back and a genuine smile on his lips.
“Wow,” he said when she opened the door. “You look ... beautiful.” His eyes never left hers, and she did all she could to contain her shy grin.
“Thank you.”
“I, uh ... these are for you.” He drew from behind his back a bouquet of flowers. Not over the top, but a simple array of white, yellow, and red flowers, and a sunflower in the middle.
“Oh.” Shocked was too mild a word for what the gesture did to her insides. No man had ever given her flowers before. Those weren’t the type of men she went out with.
They’d meet at a bar or a restaurant. They never came to her apartment or drove her home. Not that it was the man’s fault; she never wanted her party life to meet her family life.
Ryan crossed the line into both. She took the flowers from him and held them to her chest. “Thank you. I’ll go put them in water.” She turned to go up the stairs. “Would you, um, like to come up?”
“I’d love to.”
And there it was. The dinner, the flowers, they were all to get to what he wanted. Sex. With a heavy heart, she unlocked the door to her apartment and crossed the tiny living room to the kitchen. Mia should have known better to get her hopes up that this would be anything more than sex. Sighing, she set her coat and flowers on the counter and rummaged through the cabinets looking for a vase.
She’d kept a few from the flowers she received after her accident. Taking one down, she filled it with water and put the arrangement in it. Mia looked across the kitchen and nearly gasped at the passion in Ryan’s eyes.
He watched her with an intensity that nearly knocked her on her ass. Remembering how explosive he could be, her cheeks warmed. He’d taken her off guard in his kitchen when he’d pressed his body against hers and made love to her on his counter.
And then again when she’d stopped by his house to thank him for the book, he’d made love to her seated in his kitchen chair and then again on the table. Expecting him to do the same tonight, she froze, keeping the counter between them.
Part of her longed for his touch, longed to feel his naked skin against hers, but the sensible, finally maturing part of her wanted to be treated like a lady. Wanted to go on a real date with a man who brought her flowers.
Tears threatened to flood her eyes. She blinked them back and rubbed her cheeks, hoping to hide her trepidation.
“Mia.” He crossed the small space and touched her forehead, then her neck.
And here it comes. The sex, which she didn’t think she had the energy to fight off, because she truly wanted to be with Ryan, but not at the expense of her heart. Why couldn’t he simply want to be with her? Have an adult conversation
with her?
She swallowed back the tears and kept her gaze lowered.
His hands framed her face as they usually did before he kissed her. She wet her lips in anticipation and disappointment.
“Are you okay? You’re flushed.” His hands roamed from her forehead to her cheeks to her neck. “Your pulse is racing.”
Of course it was. That was what he did to her.
He kissed her forehead and tilted her head until her eyes met his. “If you’re not feeling well, we can have dinner another night.”
“Another night?” She furrowed her brow in confusion.
“Sweetheart, you’re burning up.”
First the flowers, then the touching, now endearments. She was doomed. The sweater would be coming off any second and she wouldn’t regret a thing.
“It’s the sweater. Cashmere. I’m not used to it.”
“I can wait if you want to change.”
“Do you want me to change?”
He cocked his head to the side, and a small smile escaped from his lips. “I want you to be comfortable.” He massaged the back of her neck before dropping his hands. “I want you to be you.”
Damn him and his words. Her body responded to him too easily.
Clearing her throat, she stepped away from him and scooped up her coat. “I’m fine. We can go now.” Better to get the night over with so her heart could start to heal. Again.
Ryan held the door open for her and checked to make sure it was locked behind him. When they got to his car, he held the door open for her and waited until she was buckled before closing it.
Manners of a gentleman. Again, quite different from the man who preferred to be speaking the international language of love rather than speaking with words.
“Is Italian okay?” he asked when he got behind the wheel.
“Sure.”
Again, he cocked his head toward her and let that sly grin escape. He studied her for too long, making her stir uncomfortably in her seat. Finally, he started the car and backed out of her driveway.
“Ever been to Cannoli?”
“Like the dessert?”
“I guess. Tristan recommended it.”
“Since when did you and Tristan become tight?”
“I wouldn’t call us tight. Just using my resources. He’s a friend of yours and a chef, so he had to know the good places to bring a date.”
A date.
Not a booty call. A date. Mia shivered despite the warm cashmere against her skin. Not wanting to get her hopes up, she tamped down the growing excitement and willed her heart rate to slow.
Ryan didn’t help the matter any when he reached across the center console and took her hand in his.
Another first. Granted, hand holding on the way to a dinner date was pretty standard. Nothing to get her panties in a twist. Yet they were doing some serious twisting and shouting in her skinny jeans.
His hands had been on her ass, on her boobs, and her favorite, her face. But never had he actually taken hers in his. It felt good. Too damned good.
Ryan stroked the soft, sensitive area between her thumb and index finger, sending shockwaves of awareness through her entire body.
Afraid her voice would crack if she spoke, she kept silent as they drove out of town and south on Route One. When they got to the restaurant, she waited in the car for him to open the door for her.
Another date-ish thing that sent flutters to her belly. He held out his hand for her, and she took it, allowing him to help her out of the car. They kept their fingers locked until they reached the front door, which he held for her like a gentleman.
“Reservation for Thorne,” he told the hostess.
She looked down at the podium and crossed off his name. “Right this way.”
They followed her through the nearly-full restaurant. The tables were covered in white linen tablecloths, and each had a tea light protected by a hurricane lamp. There were some sections of the dining areas that had more light than others; their table was in a dark corner.
The quiet music reminded her of the dinner scene in Lady and the Tramp when the two dogs bumped noses while eating the same spaghetti noodle. She chuckled to herself. That was about as romantic as Mia got.
Slurping noodles and thinking about cartoons. The flowers and fancy dinner were way out of her element.
“Is this table okay?” The waitress placed the menus on the table, not waiting for a reply.
“Mia? Is this okay?”
It was a table. In a nice restaurant. What wasn’t to like? Instead of giving him her usual snarky reply, she smiled and gave them both a polite nod. Ryan pulled out a chair for her, and she sat, tucking her feet under the seat.
The place wasn’t overly stuffy. The menu was in English, and the prices weren’t crazy high or anything, and she actually recognized most of the dishes. Way to go, Tristan!
“See anything you like?”
She peered at Ryan over the top of her menu. Most men couldn’t pull off the sweater look. They either looked like a computer nerd or an insurance salesman. Granted, Carter was a computer nerd, but he didn’t look the part. It took a certain type of man, a certain look to come off as sophisticated sexy and not nineteen-eighties dad.
Ryan pulled it off quite well. The dark hair and matching eyes were the icing on the cake. The man was delicious; there was no denying that fact.
“I do.” She licked her lips and lowered her gaze to the menu. “The eggplant parmesan looks good.”
The waitress came by and took their drink and dinner order then slipped away.
Once again, Ryan tilted his head and studied her. It should have made her nervous or irritated her the way he seemed to try to read her. But it didn’t.
When they’d first met, the quiet vibe was to hide secrets. His identity. His everything. Tonight, the quietness had a different feel. Like he wasn’t trying to push her away but actually get to know and understand her.
The waitress delivered a bottle of wine and filled each glass, then set a basket of bread between them before slipping away again.
“Tell me about the book you’re currently working on.”
Mia picked up her glass and sipped her wine. “Still interested in those sea creatures, huh?”
“Not really.” He mirrored her and sipped his wine.
“Then why do you want to know about a children’s book?”
“Because I’m interested in you.”
It was definitely getting hot in here. She set her glass down and pushed up her sleeves, hoping the brush of air on her skin would cool her down. Ryan rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her.
Yeah, totally not cooling down. Hoping a conversation about talking starfish would calm the trembling inside, she rambled on about Twinkie—another Sophie contribution—and Turtles, the grumpy blowfish.
Ryan laughed. “I think that’s cute.”
“For a five-year-old, but my agent is going to make me change his name.”
“Why? You’re the author. You should get to name your characters anything you want.”
“To an extent. I have Carla the beautiful snapping turtle already written into the series. Calling a fish Turtles is confusing to the reader.”
“Like you said, not if you’re five. And aren’t five-year-olds your audience, not adults?”
His support and defense in Sophie’s input warmed her heart.
“True.”
“Did I ever tell you about Poodles?”
“Your dog? No.” She took a breadstick from the basket and tore it in half. The warm garlic and butter melted in her mouth. She pushed the basket toward Ryan so he’d have garlic breath as well. Just in case there would be kissing later.
Ryan took a stick and pointed it at her. “My cat.”
“You named your cat Poodles?”
“Exactly my point.”
“Hope’s daughter Delaney named Ty’s dog when she was six.”
“Meatball?” Ryan chuckled. “I guess that doesn’t sou
nd like a name Ty would give his bulldog.”
“He is, though. Meatball fits that dog perfectly. He’s a chubby ball of ... dog that doesn’t do much other than sleep and roll to his back for a scratching.”
“Did you have any pets growing up?”
“We had a black lab. I think I was five or six when we got her and Ty was ten or so. I remember fighting over her name.”
“Tell me her name and I’ll guess who won that battle.”
The waitress came by with their food and asked if they needed anything else. When she left, Mia picked up her fork and cut into her food.
“Macaroni,” she said before taking her first bite.
“I thought you ordered eggplant.”
“Our dog.”
Ryan’s deep laugh reverberated through her soul. It was the most beautiful, authentic, surprising sound she’d ever heard. There’d been a few chuckles tonight, but this. This was definitely panty twisting.
“If you hadn’t told me Delaney was the one responsible for naming Meatball, I’d guess your brother had a thing for naming animals after food. Macaroni was all you.”
Mia took a sip of wine and nodded. “We called her Mack most of the time.”
“What did your brother want to name her?”
“Panther or Jaguar.”
“Makes sense.”
“Any more pets besides Poodles?”
“Not really. We traveled a lot in the summer so it made it hard. Dad always kept an aquarium, and my sister and I would name the fish. We changed up the names every few months, though. Nothing ever stuck except for Shark.”
“You had a shark in your aquarium?”
“Nope.” Again, he smiled when he nodded. “Shark was an angel fish who liked to eat all the other fish, once again proving my point as to why you should keep Turtles.”
Conversation flowed easily during dinner, and when the waitress came with the check, a wave of sadness filled her. She didn’t want the night to end. Ever. This relaxed “normal” side of Ryan was what she’d dreamed about.
He excused himself to use the restroom, and she took that time alone to check her phone. Six texts and a voicemail. Scrolling through the texts first, her heart raced.
Something More (A Well Paired Novel) Page 24