Reviving Haven

by CORY CYR

  “Hello,” I say warmly, slipping off my shoes and settling in my desk chair for my phone call flirtation.

  “Sweetheart.” Hearing his slightly accented, sultry voice, is delighting my senses.

  A smile spreads across my face but I suddenly feel timid.

  “Latch,” I say breathlessly, “I called your office. You’re gone all week?” I hope I can mask the disappointment in my voice.

  “You called my office?” I can almost feel his smug smile through the phone and the cockiness in his voice.

  “So, I gather I’m forgiven? It was the shoes, right?” he jokes, making me laugh.

  “Yes, it must have been. What girl can say no to a man who buys her Dolce and Gabbana shoes?” I pause. “I want to see you. We should talk.”

  “Miss me already, sweetheart? This trip to the east coast was last minute. I’d rather be seeing you right now, if you want to know the truth.” He sounds exhausted.

  “Yes, the truth is good,” I reply. My hands are shaky as I hold the phone. He doesn’t even have to be here physically to make me quiver.

  “Well, if we’re talking and you say you’ll see me, you know I’m asking you out on a date, right?” I can hear the anticipation in his voice.

  “I think it’s safe to assume I’ll talk to you, maybe even see you . . . I’m not sure, still deciding,” I respond, teasing him.

  I clearly hear him breathe a sigh of relief through the phone. It makes me elated.

  “I need to apologize for acting like such an ass when you came to my office. Haven, I’m so sorry about everything, all of it.” I can hear the regret in his voice mixed with sadness.

  “We can talk about that another time, Latch.” I had to stop him before he said any more about the issue. I don’t think I’m ready to discuss my behavior, and I’m not ready to hear about why he acted like he did. This is something we need to discuss, but not now.

  “I’ll see you when you get back?” I ask, hoping the change in conversation will get him away from the office incident and his apology.

  “My plane gets in Friday at three thirty in the afternoon. Can we have dinner together Friday night?”

  “I’d like that.” I feel giddy.

  “Friday night then. I’ll have my driver pick you up at six thirty?”

  He isn’t picking me up himself—he’s sending a car? Weezie’s going to be all about the car with his driver, but it just makes me uneasy.

  “You know I can drive myself. Just tell me where to meet you,” I tell him.

  “It’s better to have my driver come and get you, so we have a designated driver,” he cautions, but then he chuckles as if he’s remembering how we first met.

  I return a laugh. “Oh really, planning to get me drunk, Mr. McKay?”

  “I think you’re quite capable of getting pissed without any help from me." He chuckles again and adds, “There will definitely be no tequila at dinner.”

  “You can bet on that. My head and my shoes can’t take another event of that nature,” I agree with him completely.

  “Tell me the evening wasn’t all bad,” he says, his voice now sounding impassioned.

  “A lady never tells, and there’s a good chance I don’t even remember,” I reply, whispering.

  “Well then, Ms. Wells, a refresher might be in order.” His voice sounds extremely seductive.

  I feel excited. My body fills with delicious anticipation.

  “Have a good week, Latch. I’ll see you Friday,” I say, trying to tamp down the excitement I feel bubbling up into my voice.

  “Yes, you will. And, sweetheart, wear those panties.” I can feel the heat through the phone. It warms my core and makes my breasts tingle for his touch.

  I snap my phone closed. I sit in my chair, attempting to absorb the conversation we just had and the fact that I actually have a dinner date with him. I feel slightly nauseated as I realize that this is my first date in seven years. Of course, Latch and I have covered most of the bases a couple normally covers while dating. It’s a good thing I have four days to figure out what to wear.

  There is no doubt that Weezie will want to control the entire wardrobe choice. If she has her way, I’ll be meeting him dressed in an outfit that is a cross between a Victoria Secret model and a Las Vegas stripper. I bite back a groan. So he wants me to wear the panties. He seems sure of himself. How will he even know if I’m wearing them or not unless he plans to sleep with me? We have already shared so much. The only real thing left is kissing and actual sex.

  The thought of us together makes me shiver, but in a good way. This is the first time in my life I’m truly excited about a man. It’s been too long. I had thought what I had with Jared had been good, or so I thought, but I never knew true arousal or release until Latch. He is so talented, I’m sure I could come without him even being in the room. The man ignites a fire in me like no other. I chew my bottom lip as I think about Friday night. Four days is a long time.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was right about Weezie. As soon as she finds out about the date with Latch, she goes into fashion police mode. She drags her entire wardrobe into the living room—because God knows my clothes aren’t slutty enough for Latch McKay.

  Her words, not mine.

  She proceeds to choose outfits that she feels are appropriate for a dinner with the so-called poster boy for sex. After screaming, yelling and begging, she chooses nine dresses, four pairs of pants, two skirts, and something that looks like a cross between lingerie and a jumpsuit.

  I finally settle for the customary little black dress. Weezie pouts like the diva she is. It’s a dress she purchased but never wore—still has the tags—and shoved in the back of her closet due to the fact it wasn’t worthy of “strutting the boulevard.” But I love the dress. It’s shorter than what I normally wear. It’s sleeveless and has a nice, low v-neck that is designed to enhance, not flash, the girls. The bottom part has a flirty little skirt with a flare to it.

  Weezie rolls her eyes and acts as if I’ve chosen a nun’s habit to wear. This dress will go nicely with my black Dolce and Gabbana shoes and the little black panties. Yes, I have decided to wear the panties, but that’s all I’ve decided. Even though we’ve crossed boundaries, I’m not sure sleeping with him on our first real date is something I should or could do. I’m not that girl. Well, I suppose I’m kind of that girl now—I did have oral sex in public and gave a puff chore in broad daylight.

  I just had a frightening thought—maybe, after all these years; Weezie is finally starting to rub off on me. Gasp.

  Friday rolls around and I can’t wait for the workday to end. I actually leave at three thirty so I can allow extra girl time. I’m older, and it takes more time to pull myself together than it did at twenty. I take a shower, I shampoo and I shave. I do my make-up, blow-dry my hair, and pull it back up into a French twist, finishing it with a fancy rhinestone clip. I smooth lotion on my legs and apply just a dab of my perfume behind each knee.

  I had purchased a black demi bra that goes quite well with the panties. I slip on the dress and put on my shoes. I finish off the outfit with small, diamond stud earrings. I grab a short jacket and a clutch purse and make my way to the living room where Weezie is waiting to approve my ensemble.

  “Girlfriend, you look amazing!” Weezie exclaims, motioning with her hands for me to twirl.

  I spin around once, and then curtsy. She laughs.

  “Fuck me, you do have a killer rack, but you wouldn’t know it since you wear everything so loose. I should have given you that dress a long time ago. You look beautiful! Latch is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

  I blush. I’ve never been good at taking compliments. Self-doubt slips into my mind.

  “Are you sure I look alright?” I question as I move to the sofa.

  “Haven, Latch is going to think you are beyond hot. You know you’re gorgeous, right?”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I shrug. I haven’t felt comfortable in my body since Jared.

>   “Listen to me. You are a stunning woman. Tonight is your fucking night. I want you to have the time of your life. Christ, you have a date with Latch McKay. You know how many women are envious of you tonight—tons, myself included.” Weezie laughs as she sits next to me.

  The doorbell rings and Weezie gets up to open the door as I do a quick check of my lipstick.

  “Ms. Wells?” A short, stout man dressed as a chauffeur asks.

  “Well, Ms. Wells, your coach has arrived,” Weezie snickers.

  I stand up, grabbing my purse and jacket. I feel nervous but excited. Weezie gives me a thumbs-up as I walk out the door.

  As the chauffeur opens the limousine door for me, Weezie yells, “I won’t wait up!” She laughs as she closes the door behind me. I frown. She appears to have my night all planned for me, including bedtime.

  The limo is beautifully elegant inside. Even though it’s warm, I’m chilled by nervousness.

  We arrive at my destination twenty minutes later. As we drive up, I roll the window down and immediately recognize the restaurant from several magazines I’ve read. Ilessa is one of the finest eating establishments in California. It sits nestled on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It’s classic, expensive and very secluded. I’ve read they have an exclusive cliental; not just anyone can eat here. As the chauffeur opens my door to help me out, I have to maneuver myself carefully in my dress; the last thing I want is to flash him. Latch walks towards me. As he gets closer, he stops midstride and stares. I find myself gazing at him as well. We both appear to be drinking in each other.

  Latch looks flawless. He’s wearing a light blue shirt that’s open at his throat with a loose tie that compliments it. Dark dress slacks drape his long legs perfectly. He’s holding a dark jacket in his arms. What was once a five o’clock shadow has now been trimmed into a very short beard, making him look sexy as hell. His hair is unkempt and wild as normal. And his eyes . . . oh Jesus, I have to steer clear of those piercing eyes. He looks exactly like sex on a stick. I’d like nothing more than to have him take me right here on the restaurant walkway. He continues walking towards me and takes my hand, kissing the inside of my palm and causing my nipples to pebble.

  “You look beautiful.” His eyes devour me from head to toe as he takes my hand.

  “You look pretty dashing yourself,” I say, returning a smile.

  His hand is warm and large compared to mine. He takes my arm, putting it through his, but never letting go of my hand. Even with the four-inch heels I’m wearing, he towers over me, making me feel small. We walk arm in arm up to the front door.

  The air smells like flowers and the sea. The sun has set, filling the sky with a rainbow of colors mixed with the orange Los Angeles smog. I can see the beginning of a hazy full moon. I feel comfortable and safe with my arm through his. This feels normal to me.

  “I hope you’re hungry. This place is fantastic, one of my favorite places to eat in the U.S. Have you been here before?” he asks as he pauses to open the front door.

  “No, first time. It appears I have a habit of doing quite a few things for the first time with you.” For some reason that came out all wrong and I find myself blushing. God, I’m a dork.

  “Oh, really?” He displays a devious smile.

  I try to change the subject quickly. “So, I’m guessing you come here often?” I ask. I’m in awe at how large this place is on the inside.

  “All the time, when I’m in the States, the food is incredible and the service is very personalized. I even have my own private balcony.”

  He hands his jacket to the hostess and I watch her scan Latch up and down the full length of his body, and her face is filled with desire. As we walk into the reception area, women turn to stare, even if they’re accompanying men. I can tell they all want him. Weezie was right—there’s envy written all over their faces. Latch appears to be clueless to the entire scene. I’m sure he’s used to it. He senses something in my body language that makes him pull me into him, almost as if he wants to claim me as his in front of these patrons.

  “Mr. McKay, how are you this evening?” an older short man with a thick European accent asks with a smile as he walks up to us.

  “Francis, all is well. How are you?” Latch replies, smiling.

  “Nothing to complain about, at least nothing I want to share,” he laughs. “Table for you and the lovely lady on your balcony?”

  “Absolutely,” Latch replies while keeping his arm around me. He keeps me close to him as we follow Francis.

  The outside balcony is breathtaking. I have never seen a restaurant like this, ever. I’ve never even heard about these balconies in any of the magazines. I just stare. Even though the actual balcony is outside, it’s totally secluded from the other patrons. It has a table, chairs and a small sofa with flowers and candles everywhere. Tower heaters have been set up in the corners in case it gets chilly. It’s a feast for the eyes. Everything about this is serene and sensual.

  I move away from Latch, walking towards the stonewall that is behind the sofa. When I get to the edge of the wall, I look over and hear the waves as they crash on the rocks below. The moon is beginning to rise. Soon it will be bright enough to see the ocean below. There is a warm breeze and the air tastes like salt. I love the smell of the ocean. This is more than I ever imagined.

  For a moment, my mind questions how many others he has brought here before me. Maybe this is how he seduces women. I constantly have to remind myself that he’s only my date. This needs to be just casual.

  I go back to the table to sit down. Latch is standing up by the table waiting for me. He pulls out my chair for me, waiting for me to sit before seating himself. I can’t hide the surprise look on my face.

  “Believe it or not, despite our past indiscretions, my mother raised me to be a gentleman,” he murmurs as he caresses my hand.

  Luckily a waiter shows up with a wine list. I let Latch choose the wine, but let him know I prefer red. As long as it doesn’t involve shots of tequila, I’m good to go. I have no intentions for a repeat performance of our first meeting. As the waiter hands us menus, I feel relaxed and unnerved all at the same time. It’s going to be hard to eat at this point.

  “They make a great steak here,” Latch says as he peers over the top of his menu.

  With the menu in front of his face, all I can see are his eyes, and they are positively hypnotizing. They seem to jump from deep green to sky blue to a pale gray. His brows are dark and slightly arched with a faint scar through the right one. He looks seductive. His eyes, should be outlawed—I mean seriously, ban those puppies worldwide. I purse my lips. Staring into his eyes fills me with a slow warming and my sex clenches. He’s definitely a walking advertisement for wanton sex.

  I finally snap back to reality. Latch mentioned steak. Eww.

  “I suppose I should tell you that I’m a vegetarian,” I say, peering back over my own menu.

  “Really . . . no meat?” There’s a glint in his eyes. I smirk and roll my eyes.

  “Going on twenty years now,” I reply.

  “Animal welfare or health?” he asks with what seems to be general interest.

  “Oh, I suppose a little of both. My family eats meat and I grew up eating it, but I never really developed a taste for it. When I found out how it was"—I stop myself, remembering how my mother used to reprimand me for sharing that information in public. “Well, that can be a story for another time,” I say, smiling as I turn the pages of the menu. Latch chuckles and takes a sip of wine.

  “So there will be a second date?” He looks at me with an optimistic grin.

  I put my menu down and reach for my wine glass to take a small sip.

  “Let’s just get through this tonight and see how it goes.”

  Latch chooses fish for his entrée. I’m lucky enough that this restaurant offers baked tofu with locally grown organic vegetables. As we wait for our food, we have more wine and nibble on bread. There’s music playing softly in the background, and it sounds exoti
c and sensual. I wonder what’s playing.

  “Any idea what the music is?” I look over at Latch and notice that he’s full-on staring at me.

  “Enigma,” he replies, leaning back in his chair.

  “Who?”

  “Enigma is the name of this band. I always have their music playing specifically in my private balcony.” As he speaks, he never takes his eyes away from me. The way he looks at me makes me feel coveted, wanted. There’s a longing in his stare.

  He has this music played specifically for his private dining room, which leads me to be plagued by the need to know how many other women have sat where I’m sitting? I already know the answer. After all, he is a twenty-five year-old player. I’m being naive as well as pathetic. Latch must sense my unease and he moves his chair closer to mine. He’s so close now I can feel his breath on my face. I don’t know what possesses me, but I feel the need to touch him to make this real, to make this an actuality. I let my fingers graze his cheek. As I touch him, I feel him hiss in a breath. I’m slightly embarrassed at my sudden boldness. Touching his face like this seems far more intimate than what I’d done in his office. I yank back my hand.

  “I’m so sorry. I have no idea why I just did that.” I look into his face for a reaction.

  Latch grips both of my hands with his one. “Don’t apologize for touching what you want,” he murmurs.

  “You are the prettiest man I have ever seen,” I whisper.

  “You think I’m pretty?” He laughs. “Oh, sweetheart, I have been called quite a few things in my life, but never have I been called pretty.” He laughs again, shaking his head.

  He takes one of my hands, placing it back on his cheek. I take my finger and trace from the curve of his cheekbones down and over his lips. Then I reach up and brush my fingers across his brows. Finding the scar, I outline it with my finger. A single, dark brown curl softly blows against his cheek and I brush it away. I want to outline his entire face and save it to my memory so I will never forget it.

  “The scar on your eyebrow, how did it happen?” I ask him curiously.