Startled from his internal dialogue, he said, “Uh, sure. I’m meeting a woman here. I don’t see her.”
“I can seat you and then bring her over if you’d like, sir.”
James wasn’t used to being called “sir”. It was weird. “That’s fine.” Wait, is that fine? Will she be mad I didn’t wait in the lobby? You’re acting like a weenie. Get it together.
The hostess seated him at a table where he could easily see the door, and he perched on the edge of his chair. He’d never psyched himself out like this before and wondered what was different about this date, about Becca, and he was eager to find out.
She arrived about ten minutes later. By that time he’d rearranged the entire table and was pretty sure the couple next to him with their kids were looking at him as if he were crazy.
Becca sat after the hostess pulled out her chair. Dammit, I should’ve done that. “Hi. Am I late?”
“Not at all. I wasn’t sure about traffic and directions, so I left early.” He’d put on a pair of black twill pants and one of the polo shirts he reserved for work since he hadn’t been sure how fancy the restaurant was. It appeared he’d dressed pretty well, since she was clad in a knee-length, bright blue dress. “You look lovely, by the way.”
“Thank you.” She opened her menu. “The French toast is really good here. It’s those thicker slices, which I like better.”
“Me too,” he murmured.
They ordered and then made small talk for a bit. James sensed she wanted to say something, but appeared to be working up the courage. He was about to ask what was wrong when she looked away and bit her lip before returning her gaze to his.
“Look, I need to level with you. We’re both adults. I’m incredibly attracted to you and I like what I’ve learned so far about you, but I don’t have a lot of experience with relationships. You know that saying, ‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride’? If you look it up, there’ll be a picture of me next to it. I’ve been a bridesmaid nine times. Nine.” She fiddled with her napkin for a moment, staring down at her plate, and James waited her out. When she looked up once more her eyes were pools of hurt, of pain, but also of longing. “I don’t know what to do or how to handle this. I’m freaked out that I’m going to say or do something that’ll make you run.”
James smiled and reached over the table to grab her hand. “I don’t scare easy. Besides, if there was an “always a groomsman, never a groom” saying, it would’ve been about me. I walk into the tux store and they treat me like a long-lost friend. I’m pretty sure I sent the owners to Aruba two years ago when seven of my friends–I kid you not–got married in the space of three months.” Her eyes widened and he chuckled. “Yeah, no one has me beat for that record. I was in wedding hell. I love weddings,” he was quick to reassure her. “But I hardly had time to change vests and ties before I was walking down the aisle at another one. Our background in relationships actually sounds pretty similar.”
“So we’re the blind leading the blind?” Becca asked, and then laughed. “Now I don’t feel so bad.”
“You shouldn’t.”
The rest of their brunch passed easily after that initial period of awkwardness. She tried to pay, but he waved her off.
She protested. “I asked you out.”
“You can get the next one.” Please let there be a next one.
Becca grinned. “Deal.”
They rose and walked outside.
Putting her hand on his forearm, Becca asked, “Are you free this afternoon or do you have plans?”
“No plans.”
“Would you maybe want to go hang out in Zylker Park? It’s a beautiful day and, well, I want to spend more time with you, if you don’t mind.”
He grinned. “I don’t mind. That sounds really nice. How about I follow you so we don’t have to come back here later to pick up a car, though?”
“Works for me.”
As he drove, James felt happier than he had in a while. His mom was improving without going into financial ruin, and Becca might be a woman he could see a future with someday.
The two of them strolled for a little while, until Becca complained of her feet hurting, so James guided her to a bench, where she immediately pulled off her sandals, sighing in obvious relief.
He gestured toward her shoes. “The things women do for fashion, huh?”
“We’re slaves to it.” Becca leaned back and looked around. “Lots of people today.” She laughed, but the corners of her mouth were tight. “I am so not good at this small talk.”
James had been considering kissing her, but the remark about the crowd around them gave him pause. Maybe I should hold off on that. Doesn’t mean I can’t hold her hand, though.
And he did just that. Sliding his hand over hers, he linked their fingers together. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. Oh man, now I really want to kiss her.
Instead, he cleared his throat and moved away a little to avoid temptation.
“Tell me about your job.”
Becca wrinkled her nose. “Do you really want to hear? Most people think it’s boring.”
“Yes, or I wouldn’t have asked. And remember, we’re in the same field.”
“Your job is way more creative than mine.”
“Doesn’t mean yours can’t be interesting.”
She proceeded to regale him with a litany of stories that only someone in their line of work would find funny. James was charmed by how her eyes lit up and her hands flew when she talked about her projects.
When she stopped to take a breath, he leaned over and kissed her. It was merely a soft, quick touch of his lips to hers, but when he pulled away she ran her fingertips over her mouth. “Wow. Do that again.”
James laughed. “With pleasure.”
Turning more fully toward her, but mindful of where they were, he took her into his arms and did as she bade, asking for entrance to her mouth with his tongue. Becca opened to him and James couldn’t contain a soft groan. He’d happily kiss her for hours, but limited himself to a couple of quick but deep kisses before releasing her.
Becca glanced around, spots of pink appearing on her cheeks. “Walk again?”
“Sure.”
A short time later James’ cell rang. It was his mother, asking him to go to the store for her, so with regret he bade Becca goodbye.
After stopping off to buy the groceries his mom had requested, he went to her house–the same one he’d grown up in. As he opened the side door, which led directly into the homey kitchen, a familiar sensation of nostalgia stole over him. He’d loved his childhood here. There had been tons of kids around his age in the neighborhood, and his parents had been blissfully happy. Losing his dad a few years ago to a sudden, massive heart attack had been a blow to the entire family, but his mother in particular had never really recovered. Now he worried about her daily.
“Mom?”
“In the den,” she called in her familiar melodious trill.
“I’ll be in as soon as I put away the groceries.”
“All right, hon. Can you bring me a sweet tea?”
After stocking the kitchen, he took the pitcher that had been a part of his life as long as he could remember and poured a glass of iced tea for his mom. James had never been a fan of sweet tea, but his mother loved the stuff and always brewed it in her special jug.
James took the drink into the den and put it on the table next to his mom. “You’re keeping to the one glass the doctor said you could have, right?”
“Yes, mom.” His mother replied, rolling her eyes. “Don’t I do everything the doctors tell me to?”
He snorted. “Not even close.” James settled onto the couch near his mom’s armchair.
“Go ahead. Ask me about the rest.” She folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.
“Physical therapy?”
“They’re increasing my reps.”
“But not the weight, right?”
H
is mother sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Hon, these people are experts. If the doctor says not to they don’t.”
“I know, but—”
“I get it. Have a little faith in me and in them. As for the rest, I’m going on Tuesday to have my ankle assessed again. They think the treatments are increasing my range of motion. And before you offer, I’ve already got a ride. Jeannette is taking me and we’re picking up lunch on the way home.”
“That’s great, Mom, about all of it.”
Her eyes narrowed as she skewered him with one of those knowing “Mom” gazes. “You look pretty happy.”
“I was with Becca. Remember, I told you about her?”
“Ah, yes. The anti-Valentine’s Day girl.”
“She’s just had a rough time of it. A lot like me in that way, actually.”
“Well, don’t let her negative attitude rub off on you.”
“I won’t. And she’s not that bad anyway. I think the party was just something to do, so she wouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s Day.”
His mother nodded. “Any woman in her right mind should be bending over backward to land you.”
“You make me sound like a prize trout.”
“You are a prize. Just not a trout.”
James chuckled. “Do you need anything else?”
“Tammy’s coming in a few hours with my dinner. Sweet girl, but not your type.”
“Not all of them are.” James rose and pressed a kiss to his mom’s forehead. Shaking a mock finger, he said, “Behave. No wild parties.” It was an old joke between them. For years, every time her and his dad had left him and Michele alone, she’d give the same warning. Considering they were probably two of the least likely kids on the planet to host a wild party, it was obviously tongue-in-cheek. Now he issued the mock warning back to her as often as she did to him.
As he drove home, James thought about the day. It had been one of the most enjoyable he’d had in weeks. He couldn’t wait to see Becca again. They’d made a tentative date for Tuesday, but she’d had to check her work schedule first, since she often had meetings and events in the evening. James began to brainstorm where he could take her and soon found himself pulling into the driveway. With a toothy grin, he exited the car. Yes, things were looking up.
*****
Becca was practically glowing with happiness and didn’t give a damn. A few days earlier she’d had the best date of her life, and though it had been hard to coordinate their schedules, she and James were getting together later to have dinner and…who knew? She was so excited that sitting through this staff meeting was pure torture. Come to think of it, why didn’t the CIA use all-day meetings in Corporate America as a way of extracting information from enemies? They’d start talking simply to end the Buzzword Bingo before their heads exploded.
Finally the meeting ended and Becca could fly home to take a lightning-quick shower and then put her hair up in a bun, since she didn’t have time to dry it. She didn’t normally wear much make-up, but put on a little blush and a light pink lip gloss she’d found hiding below the blush in her bag. Yeah, I need to go through that bag soon, so the stuff doesn’t walk into the garbage on its own. James had insisted on picking her up, and when the bell rang she’d just put her cell phone and wallet into a smaller purse than the gargantuan messenger bag she carried to and from work.
She opened the door and smiled. God, he’s gorgeous. James was slim but not skinny, and clad in dark jeans and a bright blue button-down shirt. His short, dark hair curled the slightest bit and Becca had already noticed he ran his hands through it a lot, as if he was nervous or maybe his hair was annoying him. It was kind of adorable to see him do it and know he wasn’t perfect, since in so many ways it seemed like he was.
“Hey, you ready?”
“I am. Let me lock up.” With that task completed, Becca preceded him down the walk to his car. She’d told him to pick the restaurant, as she’d chosen the one for brunch, and yet he hadn’t said a word about it except to tell her it was upscale casual, whatever that meant.
James steered them into the heart of the city and swung into a parking ramp. They walked down to street level and soon came to a wine bar Becca had been dying to try. They served a variety of appetizers, each paired with a wine, and she couldn’t wait to see what was on the menu. James put a hand on the small of her back as he led her to the table. A waitress appeared, as if summoned from thin air, and presented them with the night’s offerings. Becca didn’t need much time to pick, deciding on a Sauvignon Blanc from the Alsace Valley, along with side plates of cheese and spreads, mussels and a Chinese chicken salad. James chose a Shiraz with beef tartare, spicy calamari and sweet and sour meatballs.
“So you were stuck in a staff meeting all day?” James said, when they were alone once more.
“Yeah. Not much fun, but I guess management feels they’re necessary.”
“Management usually likes to hear themselves talk, in my experience.” He smirked and Becca agreed with a nod and a smile.
“How was your day?”
“I got the coolest project. It’s a puzzle box. You have to solve it to find the product inside. The awesome thing about the box is that it’s one big piece, folded to become the puzzle. And the company wants a different fact about their product on each square, so when it’s completely opened it reads like an FAQ.”
“Wow, that does sound really interesting. Better than hearing about how the glossy magazine we send to clients is going from twelve pages to eight, along with extensive discussion about what would be included in the more condensed version. That by itself took over an hour, while the heads of the different departments played ‘my stuff is more important than your stuff’. My co-worker, Grace, and I were ready to stab our eyes out with the sporks from the catered lunch. I kept wishing I had a flask.”
James threw his head back and laughed. She loved that he seemed to think she was funny. Most of the things she said sounded dorky to her. Just the fact he laughed at her jokes was a reason to date the man. Becca eyed him surreptitiously. Certainly not the only one.
“Been there. We had a client a few months ago who spent most of a morning describing how he wanted his annual report laid out. After a while I felt like saying, ‘Dude, we’ve done about two hundred of these. We’ve got it,’ but of course I couldn’t. You know, that flask would’ve been helpful right about then.”
The server was in the process of dropping off their glasses of wine, and gave James a strange look. Becca giggled.
“If I’d had one I would’ve given to you.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t know you then.” He held up his glass. “Here’s to getting to know each other now.”
“Cheers!”
They both drank and Becca let the fruity flavors meld into the acidity of the wine to create the delicious experience that was Sauvignon Blanc. She’d only taken a couple more sips when their plates began to arrive, and soon conversation was slower as they both enjoyed the food and wine combinations. At the end of the meal they waved off dessert and coffee and James paid, despite her protestations, as she knew he was working at the bar to support his mom. Then they made their way back to and got into his car.
Before he started it, she said, “I’d like to spend a little more time with you if you can. We can go to my place, but, um, I’m not ready to sleep with you.”
James reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’d never expect that. We’ll take things slow. I go to bed late and only need about six hours of sleep, so sure, I could come in for a while.”
When they got to her place, she opened the door, hoping her eclectic decorating style didn’t put James off. As she’d gotten older, Becca had started accumulating whatever looked interesting to her, which had resulted in a hodgepodge she loved but could see someone else hating. But as he went around her living room, asking her about different pieces, it was obvious he liked what he saw and her heartbeat sped up. Watching him made it hard to take things slowly. Hell, the fact he though
t her cat cuckoo clock was as awesome as she did made her want to climb him like a tree. Instead, she offered him a drink and then they both sat on the couch.
“Do you want to watch something? Talk?” She held up the remote.
“Tell you what. Do you have any music stations?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so. I have a huge cable package.”
“Good. Can I have the remote?”
He located the music channels and she watched as he flipped back and forth between a few before settling on one. Then James rose.
“Dance with me?” He held out his hand and, with a grin, she took it. Deep down, this is what she’d wanted all her life–to have a man to dance with in her living room, someone to try new places and things, travel and discover all the fascinating parts of the world with. James had already mentioned a few of the places he’d been and they’d compared notes on others.
James put his arm around her waist and drew her close. Whoa, some muscles underneath those clothes. He didn’t even seem to mind she was nearly a head taller, even in her stocking feet, just put his other hand around the back of her neck and then leaned his forehead on her cheek. They danced to several songs, and then James kissed her. It was hungrier than their kiss in the park had been, since they didn’t have an audience to worry about, and soon Becca had to pull away, fighting to force air into her screaming lungs.
“Couch? James croaked out.
“Oh hell yeah.”
They fell onto the couch with Becca against the corner, James pressing his body into hers as his tongue sank into her mouth. She clutched at his back as he devoured her, taking her closer and closer to insanity. Nowhere outside of actual sex had Becca felt something like this. With impatient hands, she pushed him back and began to unbutton his shirt. When two buttons were undone he growled and then pulled it off over his head, leaving him in a tight black T-shirt.
He kissed down her jaw to her neck, sucking lightly on her riotous pulse point. Her head fell back against the cushions and James took advantage, leaving wet kisses over her collarbone and lower. When he reached her cleavage and the V-neck of her top, he looked up.
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