by A. J. Downey
“He’s my roommate, Kenz. What if I freeze up? What if I’m not ready, and he gets angry or disappointed, and things get awkward? What if I have to find someplace else to live? It feels like an awfully big gamble for a night of fun.” Which was what I was really worried about. I didn’t do flings. Of course, I was putting the cart before the horse here. Golden hadn’t exactly given me any indication that sex was on his brain. It could very well be just dinner.
Oh, come on, Lys! At ‘The Grotto’ of all places? I derided myself.
“Lys, let me ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you say yes?”
Because it was Golden, and I was comfortable around him, and because he’d been so adorably nervous when he’d asked… How could I say no?
“Because my gut said so?” I hazarded.
“Exactly, and if it’s one thing I’ve learned, you should seriously start listening to your gut. I mean, for Christ’s sake, Lys!”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d had a gut feeling for a long time that things weren’t right with me and Ray and I had ignored it. I’d blinded myself to what was, believing that if I just kept focusing on what I wanted it to be, that it would somehow get there. I’d let my hope and my faith blind me. Blind faith wasn’t a good thing and if there was anything Golden had been steadily teaching me, it was that if something didn’t feel right, then something ‒wasn’t‒ right.
Except what about when it felt right? I mean, when everything felt absolutely right? What then?
I posed the question to my best friend, and Kenzie sighed, “I think you just answered your own question there, Lys.”
“I did, didn’t I?” I asked.
“Good things happen too,” she reminded me gently and I nodded, checking my watch face on the inside of my wrist.
“Oh, shit, Kenzie, I’ve got to go if I’m going to have enough time to get ready.”
“Right! Shave everything, makeup, hair; the works! Leave him so he doesn’t know what hit him. Do me proud!”
“Oh, my god! You sound like one of those creepy southern mothers who just live to make their daughter a debutante and get them married off to give them lots of fat grandbabies!”
“Wow. You have one hell of an imagination, Lys,” she said dryly and I laughed. Oh, she totally knew.
“Go!”
“Right! Bye!” I hung up and went for my purse.
An hour later, I stepped out of my bathroom in my most expensive heels and my fitted cocktail dress. It was sleek and elegant with a slit up one thigh that was just this side of indecent if I moved wrong, giving a glimpse of the garter holding up my stockings. I swallowed nervously and pulled my burned-out velvet black wrap around my shoulders, gripping my classy beaded black clutch in my hands.
Golden appeared at the mouth of the hallway and I froze. He mirrored me, freezing too, and we both just sort of stared at each other for a long time, our gazes roaming over the other. It very much felt like we were sizing the other up, but in that stunned way that said Oh, my god, this totally wasn’t what I expected.
I knew Golden cleaned up nicely. I’d seen him in uniform probably a hundred times or more, but this was… wow. He wore black slacks and a black shirt. His tie was a shiny indigo satin held by a silver tie bar and the look was slick. He looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ magazine, not standing right in front of me just a few feet away, looking at me looking at him.
I let out a shuddering breath, suddenly nervous as a smile played over his sensual lips. He held out an upturned hand to me and I stepped forward, lightly placing mine atop his, the contact very nearly electric.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed and I felt myself blush.
“You don’t clean up so bad yourself,” I said softly.
“Car’s here, come on.” He picked up his suit jacket off the back of a dining room chair as we went by and locked up the apartment behind us. I thought it was cute that he took my hand, holding it as we waited for the elevator and even once we were inside.
It didn’t stop there, either. He held doors for me and was the perfect gentleman; I hadn’t been all that sure he had it in him, to be honest. He was treating me so differently than I had ever seen him treat the other women he’d brought to the apartment, and that gave part of me pause. I didn’t want to hope again so soon after…
However, I’d accepted his invitation to dinner, knowing the venue was as fancy as it got with a dress code, and that this was definitely not the type of things that ‘just friends’ or ‘roommates’ did with each other.
This was a date. A real date. Even though I was still married, but separated and who gives a fuck about Ray’s feelings!? Which was true. I didn’t, but oh, what was I doing? Was I ready for this? What was this?
I suppose we would talk about whatever it was over dinner, this strange thing between us that had been quietly and steadily growing.
The Grotto was a tall, stone castle façade and little more. Located in the depths of Ridgeview Park, it was only open during the spring through the summer months in good weather and was a singularly unique dining experience. No more than two dozen tables no more than two people per table, and surrounded by natural rock, water fountains, and lush greenery and flowering plants, it was a horticulturist’s dream. As a florist, I certainly could appreciate, and it was the main reason I had always wanted to come.
We stepped through the block stone archway to the hostess pedestal, where Golden produced a gold envelope from his inside pocket. He handed it over and the hostess, with a smile, opened it, gave a nod, and said, “Right this way, Mr. Martinez, Ms. Glenn.”
I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t heard my maiden name in quite some time, and I was actually pleased that he’d thought to use it rather than my married name. The very last thing I wanted on my mind tonight was anything to do with my failed marriage, yet my thoughts lingered far too long on it as we wound down a flagstone garden path, deeper into the beauty of the garden restaurant.
We were seated at a stone table draped in fine linen, candles winking from mason jars hung from the tree above our heads, providing lighting. Lilies bloomed on giant stalks, perfuming the evening with their delicate scent, and nearby, a soothing trickle of water spilled into a stone pool, thick with flowering water plants.
“It’s so beautiful,” I murmured, and I gazed around myself in wonder.
I expected Golden to be doing the same but his eyes, I was startled to realize, were fixed on me. He licked his lips and said, “I hadn’t really noticed, Chica. Can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.”
I lost my breath as a furious blush overtook my cheeks, across the bridge of my nose. He smiled fondly and I stammered, “I’m not really sure what to say to that,” as the waitress, smiling, set two flutes of champagne on the table, each with a ripe strawberry on the rim of the glass. I smiled up at her and murmured a ‘Thank you’ as she set a silver ice bucket with the bottle on the edge of our table between us. She drifted off up the path and I raised an eyebrow.
“Champagne?”
“Of course, we’re celebrating,” he said and raised his glass, holding it out. I tapped mine gently against his and the pure note that rang out could only come from crystal. I sipped, and it was probably the best champagne I’d ever tasted. He laughed gently at the surprise on my face, and I found myself blushing again.
“What are we celebrating, then?”
“Your freedom,” he answered and I smiled, but it held an edge of sadness.
“I don’t really view it that way,” I said honestly. “I see it more as a failure.”
He shook his head, “It takes two to make a relationship work, Lys. That isn’t all on you.”
“I know, but…”
“No ‘but’s’ about it. You tried your damnedest. You were the committed one. You didn’t run out on him, you didn’t abuse him, or try to hurt him for something outside his control. He let his bitterness and anger swallow him whole, you used that bullshit as fertilize
r and grew. I admire you for that.”
I laughed a little incredulously, “You admire me?”
“Yes.” He cocked his head and his look was so very serious, it wiped the smile right off my face. “You’ve done the impossible, Chica.”
“What’s that?” I asked softly. The waitress had returned and set the first course, a fennel-and-leek soup, in front of us. The Grotto didn't have a menu. You didn’t choose. You ate the marvelous creations the chefs prepared for you and experienced their art the way they meant it to be.
He waited until she drifted away, his dark eyes following her, until he was sure she was out of earshot, his next words meant for me and me alone. He bowed his head, shaking it once and said, “This has a fifty-fifty shot; It's either the best or worst thing I’ve ever done for a woman.” I frowned, and he reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a single white sheet of trifold paper.
He handed it over. I opened it, and turned it so the light from one of the suspended candles could illuminate it in the failing light of deepening evening. I squinted and read the letterhead Indigo City General Medicine. I felt brow furrowing as my eyes drifted down the page.
Test results – Negative for any STI’s
I looked up at him, confused.
“Angel’s idea, seeing as you probably only see me as a raging manwhore. Which I was, until you made me want to be a better man.”
I blinked, open mouthed, and folded the paper, setting it aside.
“Yes, but I didn’t think you were a stupid raging manwhore – your words, not mine,” I said hastily when he scowled. “I figured you were being safe, I mean,” I said gently.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence and I thought about it, about everything. I picked up my spoon and filled the silence with soup as I tried to consider the implications.
“This is a really awkward way of telling a woman you would like to sleep with her,” I murmured, not sure what else to say.
“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding.
More silence elapsed and we ate. Finally he set down his spoon and heaved a sigh, though whether he was impatient with himself, or me, I couldn’t tell.
“Lys, the point I’m trying to make with all of this is that you’re safe with me.”
I flinched and said sharply, “I know that,” affronted that I could have given him any other impression.
“So let me treat you right,” he said and I stared at him for a long time and tried not to tear up. I wanted what he was offering, but I was scared.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly, after a time.
“I’m thinking that I really want what you’re offering, but I’m scared.”
He nodded slowly and looked thoughtful for the moment, “Slow then; I’ll go slow. I’m okay with that.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I smoothed my lips together and finally nodded carefully and he smiled. I smiled back, bravely and he raised his champagne glass again, holding it out.
“To new beginnings.”
I held my glass out.
“To new beginnings,” I echoed softly.
The rest of dinner was a waking dream of taste and sound. Music began to play softly as the sun finished its plunge below the horizon. After the main course, but before dessert, Golden got up from the table and came around; he held out his hand to me and I placed mine in his, fighting down a shiver when he caressed his thumb over the backs of my fingers. I stood carefully and he led me onto the path and down the way a little bit, to a courtyard of smooth, polished marble set into the grass.
Two other couples were there and already dancing to the light sounds created by a live string quartet. I had thought the music had been via a hidden speaker system. I went with Golden to the dance floor where he carefully eased himself into my personal space. I let my arms drift around his neck and his hands smoothed gently over my hips and around my waist, settling on my lower back. He took a gentle step to the side and we began to sway.
“Doing okay?” he asked, low and even.
I nodded and stepped slightly closer, resting my head on his shoulder. His hands smoothed up my back and he held me as we gently moved to the light and ethereal notes drifting along the cooling night air. I closed my eyes when he pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder where the wide strap of my dress didn’t cover.
The sensation was electric, the chill of the evening quickly forgotten as warmth traveled from the press of his lips out over my skin in a rush of heat that had little to do with any actual temperature change. I let out a shuddering sigh that was half relief that I could. and did. have a reaction to his touch that was so pure, and he held me just a little bit tighter.
The last notes drifted over marble and beautifully-manicured grass and couples broke apart and applauded. Golden and I did, too, although I have to admit we stood closer than most. He put an arm around my waist and we went back to our table along the garden path picked out by twinkling fairy-like lights. The effect was stunning and didn’t look like anything modern that I could see, though I was sure it was some form of LED lighting.
He pulled out my chair for me and I sank into it, a bit grateful. My shoes, though stylish, weren’t the most comfortable. He retook his seat across from me and dessert was served, our glasses refreshed with the delicious champagne, which I was drinking in moderation. I had no desire to revisit the kind of drunk from my last time behind a bottle. I didn’t even want to come close.
By the time we were finished with our cheesecake, night had completely fallen and the music provided by the string quartet had faded into frog- and cricket-song. We took a walk around the night display of the garden on our way out and by the time we reached the exit, a car was waiting to take us home. Golden had wrapped his suit jacket around my shoulders and I shivered lightly as I got into the back seat of our ride, grateful that it was warmer in the car.
He held my hand lightly between us where it rested on the seat. Warm and alive, he brushed his thumb lightly back and forth over my skin and my heart jumped with every pass. When he let us into our apartment, he gently led me back down the hall toward the bedrooms, and my heart leapt into my throat, my pulse throbbing almost-painfully in the side of my neck. He stopped us outside my bedroom door and lightly touched the side of my neck, his thumb grazing my jaw in a light, sensual touch.
“Here we are, safe and sound at your door,” he said gently, and I nodded.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For?”
“Everything, the whole evening, it was perfect.”
He gave me this sexy little smirk and oh god, I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, because I just wasn’t brave enough to do it. Before I knew I was even going to say it the words were out of my mouth.
“Are you going to kiss me? Because I really need you to make the first move if you are. I’m just not brave enough.”
He smiled and it was entirely too sexy and made me melt into my heels. He nodded carefully, his other hand rising to capture the other side of my neck, his thumbs beneath my jaw. Tipping my head, just so, he searched my face to make sure that this was really all right while I remained frozen in his grasp. I willed him with my eyes to close the gap, and it felt like he moved towards me agonizingly slowly.
His lips touched mine and I shuddered in his grasp; my own hands went behind his head, gently, his hair softer than it looked. His tongue gently flicked against my lips and I groaned, opening to him, and then we were kissing, my heart racing, my body pulsing with every throb of my heart, blood rushing, breath lost, as the whole world narrowed down to his mouth against mine, his tongue toying with mine, his hands smoothing over my skin and down the silhouette of my body in the little black dress as I crushed my body up against his, desperate for more of this wonderful human contact.
He broke the kiss, his chest heaving, and gasped out, “Your place or mine?”
“Mine,” I whispe
red and he opened my bedroom door and practically carried me through. I laughed against his mouth, committing to his touch as I stumbled back in my heels. I kicked them off and lost several inches as his hands tracked around to my back. His fingertips glided up the seam of the dress’s hidden zipper and I shivered with wanting as they traced along my spine through the material, and I worked his tie free of its knot.
He paused and reached up with one hand between us, and popped the first two buttons at his throat, and I could tell he had felt constricted.
“Lys.” His voice was a sexy growl, full of need and it stole my breath, not that I needed it anymore. He kissed me again, hauling me tight against his body and I could feel the heat and rigid strength of his erection through his slacks.
The zipper of my dress parted, smooth as water, the slightly cooler air of the room spilling across my skin. One of his fingertips traced a line of heat down my spine as the two cloth halves of the back of the garment separated. I closed my eyes and let myself be enveloped by the sensation of his fingertips gliding over my skin, sending shivers across it. My fingertips struggled with the buttons of his shirt while our mouths tangled, our tongues clashing in a passionate and sensual dance.
His other hand joined the first at my back, and skated up and out, drawing my dress down over my shoulders. I shrugged out of it so that I could get back to pulling his shirt out of his waistband and he gave this little moan against my lips. He broke our kiss and sucked in a shuddering breath as he took a half-step back, his gaze sweeping over me. I felt devoured by those dark eyes of his, but I can’t say I didn’t return the favor because his arms were something else, each muscle defined in that way that drove any sane woman mad with lust.
I wanted to see more of him. I wanted his black A-shirt off of him, the ribbed material was obstructing my view of his chest and the abs I knew were under it, cutting down to that delicious V that made me want to run my tongue lower and take that bulge in his slacks into my mouth, which was watering just thinking about it.