Making It, #2

by Christina Ross

  “You’ll see,” he said—and then we were gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AFTER HAVING A SPECTACULAR and romantic dinner at Per Se—with a table that overlooked the glimmering Park no less—little did I know that when we left the Time Warner Center and stepped out into the warm night air, we were about to enter the Park itself after we took a right and started to walk down Central Park South.

  Despite the noise from the evening traffic, I could faintly hear the sounds of what had to be horses as we neared them—and then I knew what Hunter had planned, particularly when he reached for my hand, squeezed it, and leaned down toward my ear as we came upon a gorgeous, shiny red buggy with quilted, red leather seats.

  “Your chariot awaits,” he said to me with a devilish smile.

  “My chariot?” I said.

  “Every princess deserves one, don’t you think? Even if it is for only an hour’s ride through the Park with a man who’s slowly going mad for her?”

  Before I could speak, Hunter broke free from me, walked over and introduced himself to the older, white-haired driver. The man shook his hand and said, “Right on time, Mr. Steele.” The driver turned to me. “Is this your lovely wife?” he asked.

  “Oh,” I said in shock.

  “No, she’s my lovely date,” Hunter said.

  “My apologies,” the man said.

  “No worries,” Hunter said. “Shall we?”

  “Of course,” the man said.

  “Julia,” Hunter said when he turned to me. “Lend me your hand and let me help you into the buggy.”

  I looked over at the gorgeous, shimmering black horse that was going to take us on our evening ride, and was at once taken by its sheer beauty.

  “Can I pet the horse first?” I asked the driver.

  “Sure, you can,” the man said. “Come on over and meet Beatrice.”

  “Beatrice?” I said. “What a perfect name for her. She’s beautiful.”

  “Let her smell the palm of your hand first,” he said. “And don’t worry about being bitten, because Beatrice has a wonderful temperament. Introduce yourself to her, then feel free to pet her. She especially loves a good scratch on the neck, if you’re so inclined.”

  At that moment and with a little thrill in my heart, I looked over my shoulder at Hunter. I saw that he was beaming at me, and I approached Beatrice with my dress waving around my legs in the warm breeze. I loved animals, particularly horses, since my grandparents had a farm when I was growing up. They’d had several horses and I knew how to ride, but after living in the city for so long—and with my grandparents now gone—it had been years since I’d had the pleasure of coming close to one, let alone being allowed to pet one.

  “Hi, Beatrice,” I said in a comforting voice as I held out the palm of my hand for her to sniff. Beatrice shot me a sidelong glance, she smelled my hand, then she lowered her head so I could stroke the area just above her nose before I gave her a good scratch on the neck. Clearly, Beatrice liked that, because after a moment, she lifted her neck and exposed her throat to me, which I knew at once was a sign that she trusted me. With long strokes, I scratched and petted the soft hair beneath her throat, then I leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek before I rejoined Hunter next to the buggy.

  “That was amazing,” I said.

  “Beatrice likes you,” the driver said. “She’s a good girl, that one, but I have to say I’ve never seen her be so open to a stranger. Do you know horses?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “When I was a little girl, my grandparents had a farm, and they had several horses. Hailey was my favorite, and I used to ride her all the time. I didn’t realize just how much I’d missed her until now. Thank you for allowing me to pet Beatrice. And Hunter, thank you for making this happen.”

  “Julia, it’s my pleasure, especially since I didn’t know that you had an affinity for horses. And here I was worried that you were going to think that this was just something tourists did, and that you might find it corny.”

  “Not in the least,” I said. “This is going to be the perfect way to end the evening. I mean, Beatrice and our driver will see to that—I already can tell.”

  “Shall we let Beatrice show us around the Park?” the driver said.

  Hunter and I both said yes, he took my hand and helped me into the buggy, and he sat down next to me—our thighs touching, but this time neither of us pulled away. Instead, he placed his hand on my knee—and off we went into the Park under the cover of night.

  “HAPPY?” HUNTER ASKED when we entered the Park with Beatrice’s hooves punctuating the moment as they struck the pavement at a graceful gait.

  This time, it was me who took his hand, which seemed to at once surprise him and please him. Gently, he began to stroke the top of my hand with his thumb, and as he did, I felt a sudden urge to kiss him—even though another part of me knew that I should wait before we kissed again, because it would only be better if we allowed this fantastic evening to continue to build until we couldn’t keep our hands off each other . . .

  “I’m very happy,” I said. “You couldn’t have planned a more wonderful evening, Hunter. Thank you for thinking everything through so perfectly.”

  “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself, Julia.”

  “I have,” I said. “More than you know.”

  “I’m relieved,” he said.

  “Hunter, you have to know that you’ve nailed the evening—why are you relieved?”

  “Earlier, when I said that you might find part of this evening clichéd, it was because of past experience. I know that a lot of women in this city would have found this part of the night exactly that.”

  “You mean taking a buggy ride through the Park?” I said. “And with sweet Beatrice leading the way? Hunter, I’m living for it.”

  “That’s because you’re different,” he said. “And it’s because you’re different that I can’t stop thinking about you, Julia. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. As you know, I haven’t dated anyone in over a year, but you know as well as I do that there are a lot of jaded women in this city who would have rolled their eyes and dismissed me over this.”

  “How sad for them,” I said. “I mean, what woman wouldn’t want to enjoy this with you?”

  “With me?” he said.

  Oh, honey, you just revealed too much!

  But, since it was out there, I decided to just be honest with him.

  “Yes, Hunter, with you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to sit in this carriage next to you?” I shrugged at him. “If there are those who wouldn’t enjoy an evening like this with you, it’s their loss, I guess. But I have to ask, why did you think I would enjoy it?”

  “Because you’re pretty much the next level, Julia. You’re shrewder than those other women, you’re more sophisticated, and you’re careful when it comes to your heart, which I respect because it says a lot about your values, and who you are as a person. I mean, what can I say? There’s something about you that brings out the romantic in me. Was I a little bit worried what you might think about this? Sure. But that’s only because of my past experiences with other women, which have nothing to do with you. In fact, it’s because of getting to know you that I wanted to do this tonight. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

  “I am enjoying it,” I said as Beatrice trotted beneath the maze of street lamps that illuminated the Park’s winding curves. “Because it is as romantic as it is fun and thoughtful. And by the way, that horse I met a moment ago? She brought me back to my youth, Hunter. She reminded me of Hailey, which was kind of a gift, because I loved that horse dearly.”

  “You never told me that your grandparents lived on a farm.”

  “They did—but please don’t tell Tootie. I mean, she might have an aneurism if she learned that a girl who had once shoveled horse shit on a farm had stepped foot in her swanky Fifth Avenue apartment.”

  He laughed, and I loved his laugh, because it was a deep, relaxed, easy laugh that came f
rom his gut. In a town filled with cons, Hunter’s laugh was genuine, which, in my experience with men in this city, I recognized as something rare and special. And despite the fact that I’d made him laugh, he easily could have pulled a move on me that would have made me feel uncomfortable. But once again, Hunter hadn’t gone there. Yes, our thighs were straight up pressed against one another because, more than ever, we clearly were getting hotter for each other. But was he using that as an opportunity to snake one of his hands up my thigh? To cross a line with me? No, he wasn’t. That’s something I respected—and it was nothing like the Hunter I’d been warned against.

  Once again, he’s been nothing but a gentleman tonight, I thought. Because in this city? And after a night like we’ve had tonight? Any other man would have been closing in for the kill, hoping like hell to find me flat on my back with him on top of me at the end of it. I’ve drawn clear boundaries when it comes to Hunter and me, and he’s respecting them. And what am I to make of that?

  Everything, I thought.

  He tightened his grip on my hand. “I understand that when it comes to us, it’s all about baby steps, Julia, and I respect that because I’ll never pressure you. But at the very least, I hope that tonight has earned me a second date with you.”

  “Hunter, I couldn’t have asked for a better evening with you,” I said. “First, we shared a perfect dinner at Per Se—and now this? With dear Beatrice prancing through the dark to lighten our hearts? I can’t thank you enough for tonight.”

  “So, you had a good time?”

  “I had a great time.”

  “That makes me happy, because I wanted you to feel like a princess tonight,” he said in a voice that was unusually deep. In it, I heard a new note that was laced with meaning. “Julia, when I first saw you tonight, I did think that you looked like princess. I meant that.”

  I closed my eyes, and once again, I felt a part of the armor I wore when it came to him slip away. At that moment, a chill ran through my body, which Hunter clearly felt since we were sitting so close to one another. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me even closer to him.

  “You’re shivering,” he said. “Are you cold? Here, let me give you my jacket.”

  He leaned forward and started to take it off.

  Not once has this man done anything that even remotely deserves the reputation he’s received. Fine, he might have deserved it once, but after learning from my relationship with Michael—and after being single for four years in this city and learning from my share of players along the way—I have to believe that this is who Hunter is now. And I also need to trust my gut. His past is his past. People do change. And frankly, nobody has treated me as well in years as he has since the first day we met, or has even wanted to put up with my wall of demands when it comes to taking things slowly.

  But Hunter has . . .

  Am I just to ignore that? If I do, it might be at my own peril, because the universe is pretty much screaming at me right now to see this man for who he is—a good man deserving of my attention. Soon, I’m going to have to make up my mind about him before someone else catches his eye. Because if that happens, which is a very real possibility? I’ll lose out on him.

  “No, no,” I said, before he fully removed his jacket. “I’m fine, really.”

  “But I just felt you shiver,” he said. “You must be cold—”

  And so I went there . . .

  “There are lots of times when a woman shivers, Hunter,” I said. “And sometimes it has nothing to do with being cold. In fact, sometimes it has to do with what a woman is feeling at a certain moment . . .”

  He looked curiously at me.

  “What are you saying, Julia?”

  Oh, hell, Hunter? Maybe that my baby steps are probably going to need some serious running shoes by the end of the week?

  “Hunter?” I asked him as Beatrice took a right, and off we went deeper into the Park.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Would you kiss me?”

  In the amber glow of the street lights that surrounded us, I saw his eyes twinkle with heat and delight, then I watched a slow smile spread across his face in a way so sexy, it was lust-inducing.

  “You mean, like this?” he asked as he leaned forward and kissed me on my neck. I felt the stubble of his chin brush against me, and when I did, my body responded with a strange, heated kind of tremble.

  “Or like this?” he asked as he kissed the hollow of my throat. I let go of his hand and held tight to his thigh.

  “Oh, my God, yes,” I said.

  “Or would you prefer my lips here?” he said. And when he said that, Hunter proved just how strong he was when he swept me effortlessly into his lap. Shaken by the move, I just looked at him for a moment before our lips collided. And then, as we kissed with a passion I’d never experienced with anyone before, we fell into each other a little bit more and more . . . and maybe even a little bit more as Beatrice clip-clopped through Central Park, huffing and puffing while Hunter and I pretty much did the same.

  LATER, WHEN OUR EVENING was over and Hunter and I took a taxi to my apartment, he didn’t ask if he could come up. Instead, he stepped out of the taxi, came around to my side of the car, and opened my door for me. He reached for my hand, helped me out and onto the sidewalk, then we shared a final kiss that didn’t feel final to me at all.

  Instead, it felt a hell of a lot like need and wanting.

  Did I want to make love to him at that moment? Yes, I did. Hunter knew it, I knew it, but when we broke away from each other, we simply held one another for several moments before Hunter finally parted from me.

  And when he did? God, did I want to be with him. But Hunter had taken me seriously when I’d talked about moving our relationship forward with baby steps. So before we left each other for the night, he kissed me on the back of my hand, told me how much this evening had meant to him, then the man who had confounded me as much as he’d aroused me stepped into the back of the waiting taxi—and sped off into the night.

  As I stood there watching his taxi disappear into traffic, I could feel in my soul that tonight wasn’t it for us. As much as I hated to see him go—which was my fault and something I needed to own because of all the walls I’d built around my heart—I knew in my gut that we’d enjoy other evenings like this.

  I also no longer cared about any of the warnings I’d heard about him.

  Had Harper lied to me about him? Of course she hadn’t, because Hunter himself had admitted that his past had tainted his present. There was a time when I was forced to question him, but now I knew better. This was a grown man I was dealing with—an honest, sincere man who appeared to be smitten with me—and who somehow now was a part of my life.

  It was later, after I took a shower and got into bed, that I regretted that Hunter wasn’t with me. He had pulled out all the stops for me tonight, he’d respected my wishes about taking things slowly, and he’d been exactly the man I wanted.

  But right now?

  Oh, hell, I wish I hadn’t thrown up any barriers between us, because more than anything? Why lie? As I pulled the covers over me, what I wished before I drifted off to sleep was that instead of sleep, Hunter was there with me. Kissing me. Holding me. Enveloping me in his strong arms.

  And making love to me . . .

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  FOR THE NEXT THREE weeks, Hunter and I continued to focus on work—and also on each other.

  I was on set every day to watch over Pepper, who was happily leaving her unforgettable stamp on the Teens, while Hunter and I continued to date on the sly. There were breakfast dates, lunch dates, dinner dates, and even a few movie dates as things continued to heat up between us with some pretty spectacular make-out sessions at the end of each evening, lunch, breakfast—or frankly, whenever we were alone together.

  At some point soon, I knew that I’d give my body to him, and that one day, we’d become lovers. After Michael, it had taken me years to trust
another man, but over the past several weeks, Hunter had worked hard to win my trust, to the point that unless he somehow screwed everything up—which he could, because there were no promises in this world when it came to men—I knew that making love to him was inevitable.

  What I didn’t know was the rest, because let’s face it, there was a chance that Hunter and I might not connect in bed. Given the heat that had long been simmering between us, that seemed unlikely to me, but the realist in me knew that anything could happen.

  What was different about Hunter is that I knew the risks when it came to taking that final step with him, and even though I prayed that making love to him would take our relationship to the next level, my heart nevertheless was prepared if it didn’t.

  Michael’s serial cheating and his abusive behavior after we’d broken up had planted steel rods around my heart, which for years had protected me from hurt. But who knew? Maybe Hunter would be the one who’d melt away that cage forever. The fact that I trusted him enough to even think about sleeping with him was something, right?

  I knew it was—I was ready for it to happen whenever it happened—and I thanked God for that.

  ONE MORNING WHEN I arrived on set to check-in on Pepper, one of the techs—a middle-aged woman named Diana, whom I’d befriended over the past several weeks—asked me to wait outside in the hallway, because all hell was breaking loose inside the living area, where they were currently filming.

  “If I let you in now, you’d ruin the shot, Julia,” she said to me. “I hope you understand.”

  “Of course,” I said to her. “What’s going on?”

  “Lexi pulled a fast one on Pepper this morning.”

  “What has she done now?”

  “Look, I don’t know how she pulled it off, but I think it comes down to this. As you know, the girls went on their big shopping spree yesterday.”

  “Yes, I was with them for part of the day.”

  “And they bought a shitload of stuff, right? As in bags upon bags . . .”