She took another bit of her cake and moaned, then laughed. “You must think I’m weird, but this is—”
“Heaven?”
“Yes.” She smiled and licked the spoon. “I love food, but when you make a living in yoga pants, you have to watch every morsel that passes your lips.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about it.”
“Are you kidding? Yoga pants are not forgiving.”
“Men like curves.” He waggled his eyebrows and gave her his best wolf in sheep’s clothing grin.
“In case you didn’t notice, I’ve got curves aplenty and more.” She looked away with a look he knew too well from growing up around two sisters.
He tugged her hand until she met him eye-to-eye. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m not doing anything,” she grumbled.
“Yes, you are. In your head you’re taking inventory of every body part you hate or that isn’t up to your ideal standards. Trust me, oh Mistress of the Double P, real men don’t care about ‘imperfections.’” He used air quotes to make his point.
A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “Are you telling me you’re a real man?”
“Didn’t we put that question to rest this afternoon?”
“I think you might have to remind me.”
Ah, hell. So much for trying to be the good guy, because that was an invitation he couldn’t refuse.
He took the remaining cake and set it aside. He framed her face and lost himself in her big hazel eyes before kissing her. It took everything he had to keep it light and gentle. He ghosted kisses across her jaw and down her graceful neck. Fiona groaned and he captured her mouth, coaxing and teasing until she opened to him. She tasted of sweet cream and spicy heat. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, as little whimpers escaped from the back of her throat, urging him for more.
He forgot to breathe, his earlier internal declaration, and everything around them. He slipped his hands around her waist, and wrapped her in his arms as he rolled over onto the pillows, putting her on top. He slid his hands down her backside and cupped her perfect ass. His foot connected with the basket, which connected with something that sounded like glass.
Fiona laughed and broke the kiss. “There went the wine.” Her gaze shifted, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, it’s so pretty.”
Dante leaned his head back and saw the candles lit up in every window facing the ocean and them. Next the lights in the trees flickered on like a well-organized choreography, or just a good friend doing him a solid.
The piece de resistance for a romantic picnic. One look at Fiona and everything inside of him clenched, and his chest tightened. Her eyes were dark with passion, lips bruised and swollen from their kisses, and somewhere along the line her hair had come loose. She was his for the taking.
“More of your handiwork?” She gestured to the house and trees.
“It was nothing.” Just a small donation to the society.
“I know they don’t turn on all the lights unless they’re hosting a special event.” Her eyes flew to his. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”
Which was a damn shame, because she deserved better.
And he was the ultimate jerk.
She deserved more than a quick tumble on the lawn of a mansion. She deserved the mansion and everything that went with it.
“I’m glad you like the light show, but that’s our cue to leave.”
Chapter 9
Dante had been super quiet on the drive back to her apartment. Granted she hadn’t been on a ton of dates in her adult life, but she would have bet a million bucks they were headed for a homerun. She knew she hadn’t misjudged his interest or ability. His equipment shouted, “Batter up.”
Which begged the question: Why the sudden change of heart?
Sure they were on the lawn of a historical site. But the gates were locked, the building was empty—mostly—and as dark descended no one could have seen them. Not to mention, they could have gone back to his place. But nope, he brought her home, walked her to her door, and kissed her on the cheek.
The cheek!
She had flashbacks to middle school.
None of it made sense, but she be damned if she’d ask why he didn’t want her. Being physically rejected was one thing. She’d been there, done that, got the divorce papers to prove it. But being told to her face that she wasn’t sexy enough, or desirable, or whatever he’d been thinking was just asking to have her soul and heart crushed.
She may be the Mistress of Pain, but she dished it out.
And after two nights of horrid sleep, if you could call tossing and turning sleep, she was ready to dish out some pain of her own. Visions of breaking his bat flashed through her mind once or twice.
Thankfully between Dylan and her family she didn’t have a whole lot of time to think about the sting of rejection on Sunday. She’d spent the majority of her day playing family referee between her brother, Justin, and his wife, Amber. Sunday evening was some much needed quiet time with just her and her son. Even if he whipped her butt playing his newest video game, it was just the thing she needed to keep her perspective on what really mattered.
Monday morning dawned way too early, her body teeming with excess energy and none of the calm she’d managed to find in sight. She’d even gone for a long run that morning to chase away the restless blues. It didn’t work. She needed a date with Rafe, her battery operated friend, but sadly, he held no appeal for her.
How could he after tasting Dante’s kisses? Or running her fingers up his rippled abs? Rafe may deliver on the release, but he didn’t feed her or make her laugh or plan uber romantic dates.
Face it, cupcake. You want only one man. Dante.
She growled and walked toward the main gym. There was nothing worse than when her subconscious forced her to face facts she’d rather deny. Her phone rang as she hit the gym floor. With a quick look at the display she groaned. Amber… again.
“Hey sis, how are you doing this morning?” Fiona tried to sound uplifting and positive, but even to her ears, she sounded forced and fake.
“He left. Justin packed a bag and left this morning. I don’t know if he ever plans to come home,” Amber wailed.
“Did he take his golf clubs and porn collection?”
She hiccupped and then silence momentarily filled the air. “No, and how do you even know about that second thing?” Amber asked.
“I maybe overheard you two talking one day. But forget I mentioned it, because I was kidding, and I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say.” Fiona caught Malia pointing to her watch and signaled she’d just be another moment. “Of course, he’s going to come home. He’s being a drama king. You know him. That’s Justin.”
“Fee, we’ve argued before. He’s never packed up and left,” Amber said.
She had a point. “True, but if he’s anything like our dad, he’s just going to get crankier with age. Sorry, I think it’s in the Sinclair male DNA.”
Amber took a deep breath and blew it out. “No, I was an awful bitch to him. If I’d been in his shoes, I’d have left, too.”
“Did you tell my brother that?” she asked quietly.
Silence ticked away the seconds. Finally, she said, “I would, but he won’t take my calls.”
So typical of her brother. “Honestly, Amber, he’ll be back. The guy is lost without you. That year you went to Florida to help your mom out? He was awful. He burnt the toast, forgot to get the kids to school, and was a royal jerk.”
“Thanks, Fee. Now, if I could just figure out what to do with your nephews.”
“Are the boys mad at you too?” She so wasn’t looking forward to the teen years.
“Braden can’t be bothered with anyone that’s not Madison, and Keaton can’t be bothered with anyone period.”
“It’s summer time;
they need something to do. Make them go find jobs,” Fee suggested.
“They’ve both got applications out. I drove them around and personally watched them fill out the forms and then turn them back in. So far, no bites.”
“I might have a solution. Risa opened her animal rescue, and I’m betting she could use a couple of strong backs to help out around the place.”
“That’d be perfect and they love Risa.”
Fee snorted. “Of course they do. She’s tall, blonde, gorgeous and has that little bit of an English accent, plus she curses freely in front of them. What’s not to love? I’ll have her give you a call to set things up. As far as that bonehead brother of mine goes? I give him twenty-four hours tops on his own. Then he’ll be back with roses and begging for your forgiveness.” The two of them had been in love since grade school. There was no way her brother was walking away now.
As soon as she hung up, Fiona let out a piercing whistle. “All right, people, drop and prepare to sweat.”
The class hit the mats, all except for Dante, who stood off to the side. Normally, she could count on him to be the first one into action, to work longer, harder, and lead the class and keep them going when they wanted to quit. Malia caught her eye and shrugged, pointing to Dante. Well at least she wasn’t only one who noticed. The class moved from one exercise to the next as she made her way around the room.
She stopped a few feet away. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Dante stare at a spot on the wall. He seemed lost in his head. Not wanting to draw attention to him, she walked around the students working out, while she got closer.
“Come on, Smitty. You call that a plank? Put some air between the floor and your stomach, sailor. This isn’t kiddie camp.” The man grunted and lifted his body higher.
She turned to another. “Ensign, this isn’t nap time. You need to build up your core. What are you going to do if your ship goes down and you have to swim to a lifeboat?”
“Die,” the ensign said.
“Not if I can help it. Give me five more, class, and you can thank the ensign later.”
The class groaned in unison. Ah, my work here is done.
Fee motioned for Malia to take over. She’d made her way to stand in front of Dante.
“Hi.”
Nothing. He wasn’t blinking, his features were slack, and it was like his body had been left behind while his mind went on vacation. With caution, she reached out and gently laid her hand on his arm. “Dante? Are you okay?”
After a few moments, he blinked and looked at her. He glanced around the room and back to her. His brows drew down. He scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. “Something I can do for you, Mistress?”
He responded loud enough to earn a few snickers around the room. She gave them their moment, then pointed to Dante. “You, come with me. As for the rest of you, I want sixty-five push-ups in two minutes.”
The bitching and moaning was music to her ears. As the Mistress of Pain, she took her job seriously and she’d never had a student graduate out of standards or unable to pass the PRT—the navy physical readiness test.
She led Dante to the small gym she used for personal training, closing the door behind him. Before she could say anything, he did.
“I’m fine, Fiona.”
“Really? That didn’t look like ‘fine’ to me.” She held up one finger to stop him from arguing. “Outside of that scheduled class, I can’t make you do anything or say anything. Heck, as you’re a class instructor, I can’t make you do anything except get your students here on time. But you asked me to help you. If you lie to me when you’re having a… moment, I can’t help, Dante.”
“You’re right. I’m having a tough morning.” His voice cracked and he looked away. “I need you. Please?”
The irritation she’d felt earlier toward him disappeared in an instant. In its place was sorrow and anger at the world for putting Dante through such misery. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. She wanted to rail against the people and politicians who believed violence was the only solution. Not that she didn’t support the military and what they did, or the country in its goals. But the death and destruction? If only there was another way, a way that didn’t destroy people’s lives.
Dante wasn’t broken. Not by a long shot, but looking into his eyes, she knew that’s not what he thought right then and there, which was not like the man she’d started to get to know. Before her stood a lost and frightened soul and she’d do anything to help him find his way back.
“Close your eyes and breathe with me.” She kept her eyes open and studied the man before her.
His shoulders and neck muscles were rock hard. Well, she knew from personal exploration that his muscles were rock hard, but this was a different thing altogether. He had deep stress lines across his forehead and along the sides of his mouth. The vein in his neck pulsed fast and erratic. Something had definitely set Dante down a dark path.
Maybe he needed a distraction? “How’s the cat?”
He opened one eye, scowling. “A total nut. She was bouncing off the walls last night. She climbed onto the top of the fridge and then leaped across the room, taking out the dishes on the counter. You owe me a new eight-by-eight.”
“Sun salutation, now.” She moved through the poses with him. “Why do I owe you an eight-by-eight and what is that?”
“Baking pan. It’s your fault I’m living with a demon-hell-spawn in the form of a cat.”
She breathed out in sync with Dante, watching as the stress in his body melted. “You have to set boundaries. Cats will rule your life if you don’t.”
“Now she tells me. I can’t make you brownies until I have a new pan.”
Fee lost her count. “You were going to make me brownies?” She was such a sucker, really more of a whore for chocolate. Her Achilles heel as it were. How did the man know her weakness? Now she’d really have to forgive him. Brownies. Damn it!
“Yeah. Figured I owed you that and more after the other night.”
She didn’t want to talk about it. Not true, she did want to know what happened to make him throw the brakes on, but she didn’t want to go through the disappointment and hurt all over again. In ten years of being a single parent, she’d gone on about a dozen dates. Only one of them made it to the second round. The rest cut and ran as soon as they found out about her son. The one who stuck around for a few dates was looking for advice on how to ask out another single dad.
So, yeah, she might have gotten her hopes up that Dante was different. He knew about Dylan and saw past her role as a mom, he saw her as a desirable, and hopefully interesting woman he’d want to spend time with… in and out of bed.
“Downward Dog and focus on your breathing. Think about this moment and nothing else. Let the rest of life slip away, no worries about yesterday, no worries about tomorrow. One is over and can’t be changed. The other hasn’t arrived and can’t be controlled. Just breathe and focus on now.”
Taking her own advice, she let his comment go, along with her curiosity and hurt. Helping Dante control what his body and mind were going through was more important. He flowed into a side plank without her prompt, then to a child’s pose. He had this. His breathing had slowed and steadied. His face softened and once again she was captivated by his smile as he transitioned to the next asana. Breath by breath, minute by minute, he was winning the battle.
They finished out the set in silence.
“Feel better?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Fee and sorry.”
She waved off the apology. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Exactly what she expected, which while not great, was good. Most men didn’t want to talk emotions. The smile he flashed also told her he was feeling himself again, which meant she didn’t have to go easy on him anymore.
“Okay. Want to talk about anything else?”
* * * *
He took in her raised eyebrow, the neutral smile and patient tone. Crap, what had he forgotten? “Sounds like a trick question.”
“No, just making sure I’m meeting all your needs… as your yoga therapist.”
“All my needs?” He knew a few needs not being met—and he had the neglected nuts to prove it—not that it was Fiona’s fault. It’d been totally his doing, because somewhere between kissing her senseless and rocking her world, he’d pulled out the honorable card and thrown on the brakes. “Yeah, you’ve been terrific. I owe you an apology.”
“Dante, you can’t help when these things… moments… happen. You should never apologize for something that’s not your fault.”
“Thanks, although that’s not what I was talking about.”
“What else would you have to apologize for?”
She was being too nice and doing that thing she did, playing some kind of word game, where his head usually wanted to explode. “Saturday.”
“You want to apologize for taking me on a lovely date?” she asked skeptically as her eyes narrowed. “You know that’s a first, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to claim it, so how about you don’t.”
“Please? At least let me explain, Fiona.” Crap, now he was begging. A first for him.
She slowly stood and stretched, showcasing her delectable body encased in formfitting yoga pants and a t-shirt. He liked Saturday’s version of Fiona in heels and a silky, short skirt showing off her legs, but it was this Fiona he liked best, when she was in warrior mode. She made him think they could conquer anything.
“Dante, there’s nothing to explain. We had dinner, things got a little out of hand, and you brought them back under control. If anything I should be thanking you. So thank you for a lovely dinner and for not letting me make a fool of myself. I should get back to class and don’t worry about Dylan. I’ll find him another swim coach.”
He grabbed her arm and fury darkened her eyes. “It’s not like that. A little out of hand? Fiona, I was about to take you on the lawn like a randy teenager. You deserve better.”
Disarmed by Love Page 12