What Matters Most
Page 11
Will took her jacket from her and hung it on a brass hook on the wooden partition of their booth. He hung his over hers, and they slid into their seats. “So, you were saying something about all the money I don’t care about?” he said.
“I was.” She studied at the menu before her. “Property values in Saint Paul’s warehouse district are on the rise. Old buildings are being snatched up and renovated into trendy offices, shopping spots, restaurants and nightclubs. You could buy a building, have it renovated, and lease out the space you don’t need for your own offices. It would be a great investment.” Glancing at him, she continued, “Owning the building might give you some leverage against your partners’ expectations. Make it clear what you want, and offer a huge break on the rent for your firm in exchange for the billable hours you aren’t willing to put in.”
“That’s brilliant.” Will flashed her an appreciative look.
“I know.” Grinning, she sat up a little straighter, just as their server arrived. “I already know what I want.”
“Me too. Would you like another glass of wine with dinner, Jo?”
She nodded, ordered her chicken pub pie and stared, calf-eyed at Will as he ordered their wine and his meal. What was she doing here with this amazing man? Her cheeks ached from all the stupid smiling. She made an effort to look a little less enamored. Failing miserably, she sighed.
Their server left, and Will quirked a brow. “What does that sigh mean?”
“It means I’m having a very nice time.” She reached for the stem of her wineglass, needing something to do with her hands.
“And you’re not happy about that?”
“No, I am.”
“I’m glad.” He held her gaze, his heating again. “So am I.”
Dinner and the musical floated by Jo in a kind of euphoric haze, and here they were, exiting the theater in the midst of the crowd. Their date was almost at an end, and they were on the sidewalk, heading for his car and the goodnight kiss she hoped like hell would happen.
“Chicago was amazing,” she said. “I have to admit, I was a little intimidated by our seats. All the times I’ve been to the Orpheum, I don’t ever recall seeing more than one or two of the balconies along the sides occupied.”
“Intimidated?” Will’s brow rose in question.
“Well, sure. Seats like that must be really expensive, or they’d be full all the time.” They stopped at crosswalk and waited for the “walk” light to turn.
“If you want to know the truth, I wasn’t able to get decent tickets for anything on such short notice, so I begged the season holders for the seats. I happen to know how rarely they’re used.”
“Must be nice to have connections. Do the seats belong to one of the senior partners in your law firm?” Will placed his hand on her elbow as they crossed the street and moved along the sidewalk with the rest of the crowd.
“No. My parents.” He guided her through the door to the parking ramp. “Are you free next Saturday night?”
“I am. What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“There’s an arts and crafts fair going on at the state fairgrounds next weekend. I go every year, and some amazing artists participate. Would you like to join me? Maybe you can find something for your bare walls or the fireplace mantel.”
“I’d love to, and afterwards maybe dinner and a movie?”
“Sure.” Once again she failed to keep the happy smile from breaking free. If she wasn’t careful, he’d believe she was already smitten with him. Until she knew for certain where they were headed, she’d best keep her burgeoning infatuation to herself.
“Jo.” He came to a standstill beside his Prius.
“Hmm?” She lifted her gaze to his.
Next thing she knew, she was in his arms, with his warm, soft lips on hers. She gasped, then snuggled closer to kiss him back. Every cell in her body vibrated. The man could kiss—just the right amount of pressure, softness and heat. Her insides fluttered, and her blood turned to molten lava. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man the way she ached for Will.
Furrowing his fingers through her hair, Will touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, a tentative query, an invitation. She opened for him, sliding her tongue around his, tasting him. He drew her closer, and Jo wrapped her arms around his waist beneath his jacket. She ran her hands up his back, eliciting a groan from him that darted directly to her core.
The sound of his ragged breaths weakened her knees, and her own breathing went shallow. Engulfed in his scent, with his hardness pressed against her, she craved more. Even if it meant she might spontaneously combust, she didn’t want the moment to end.
Somewhere in the ramp, a horn alarm went off, bringing her back to the reality of where they were. Josey stepped back on unsteady legs, ending the kiss that rated a ten out of ten. Her pulse pounded so hard, the sound echoed inside her head. A deep breath, a mock scowl and she could finally look at him. “You kind of jumped the gun there, Will. I hope this doesn’t mean you aren’t going to kiss me goodnight at my door.”
His expression slightly dazed, he opened his car door for her. “Nope. Just … I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met, and I couldn’t wait.” He flashed her a panty-melting grin. “Believe me; I’m looking forward to … more.”
The way he emphasized the word ‘more,’ along with the hungry way he eyed her, robbed Jo of rational thought. She needed to get her bearings, give the two of them time to get to know each other better before getting in too deep.
Still, erotic images danced through her mind, the kind involving a naked, sexy lawyer between her sheets, their limbs entwined. Determined to wrestle her libido to the ground, Jo slid into the passenger seat and stifled the groan rising up her throat.
Will settled into the driver’s side and started his car, and Jo tried to come up with something to talk about. Her brain still in a lusty daze, not a single thing came to her. They merged with the traffic heading onto the exit ramp for the freeway. The silence stretched on and on.
Will reached for her hand and peered at her. “Everything all right?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.
She smiled and nodded. “Yes. I really enjoyed this evening. Thank you.”
“I did too.”
His voice came out a little hoarse, and anticipation sluiced through her. Once again she found herself at a loss for something to say, but the quiet was OK, cozy almost. Or, it would be cozy if she could keep her mind off kissing Will, or if she could stop imagining the two of them in bed together. She snorted, and then coughed to cover it up.
“I can hear you thinking, Jo.” He slanted her a questioning look. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”
“Not much.” She shifted in her seat and tugged at the seatbelt strap across her chest.
Will chuckled and put his turn signal on for the ramp off the freeway that would take them to her condo. “If you say so.”
By the time he parked his car in front of her building, her insides were lit up like fireflies on a hot summer night, and by the time Will came to her side, opened her door and offered her his hand. She was ready to jump out of her skin, or jump him. “Well …”
“Deep subject.”
“Huh?” She blinked.
“Wells are deep,” he said, guiding her up the sidewalk to her building.
“Ah.” Perhaps he was the type who resorted to lame jokes when nervous. Well she was nervous too. Lord, she hoped she didn’t have bad breath. They’d already kissed once. She shouldn’t be this nervous.
“Jo.”
“Hmm?”
“I can hear you thinking again.”
“No doubt.” Again she found herself in his arms, and she smiled. “I’m nervous, which is silly.”
“If it makes you feel any better, so am I.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “Mmm, you smell so good.”
“Wow.” Will broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against her. “Is it too soon to hope you might invite me in?”
Oh, how she wanted to, but what was happening between them was too important—he was too important. “I don’t want to mess things up by moving too fast.” Her voice quavered, and she cleared her throat. “I think it would be better to get to know each other a little better first.” She removed her arms from around his neck and placed her hands on his chest. His heart hammered against her palms. “Are you all right with waiting?”
“Absolutely.” His earnest gaze bored into her, and he cradled her face between his hands. “We’re on the same page when it comes to not wanting to mess this up.” He let loose a long, shuddering sigh, kissed her forehead and stepped back. “I hope we can find some time before next Saturday to see each other. Would you be open to bingo at Lucky’s sometime this week?”
“I’d like that. Call me.” Another awkward moment turned to something wonderful, and another brick loosened and fell away from the wall around her heart. “Good night. Thanks again for a perfect evening.”
He kissed her once more and headed to his car, and she let herself into her building, her mind a happy whirl of memories of her first and second kisses with a man who sent her pulse racing
CHAPTER EIGHT
Will arrived for lunch with his father Friday afternoon at precisely one o’clock. Both his parents were chronically early for everything, so he always arrived right on the dot or a few minutes late. Passive-aggressiveness ran deep in his family. Who was he to break with tradition?
The host led him into the dim interior of the steakhouse. He caught sight of his mother and swallowed his reactionary groan. After his discussion with his father, he should have expected they’d tag team him. He nodded his greeting and took his seat. “It’s an unexpected pleasure to see you here as well today, Mother.”
“I thought I’d join the two of you since my schedule is light.” His mother placed her elbows on the table and smiled. “We took the liberty of ordering a vodka martini for you.”
“Thank you.” He’d rather have a beer—a Lucky’s brew in fact.
His drink arrived, the daily specials were described and menus were placed before them. Ignoring the martini, Will sipped his water and read through the offerings. His mind drifted to Jo and their second official date scheduled for tomorrow. He’d also managed to talk her into getting together two nights ago for dinner and bingo at Lucky’s, which had led to more kissing and touching afterwards. Even thinking of touching Josey heated his blood.
She’d begun to relax more and more with him, while his feelings about his future continued to grow brighter the more time he spent with her. Smiling like the enamored idiot he was, Will continued to study his menu.
Will glanced at his parents just as they exchanged a surreptitious look—was it because of his smile? His father cleared his throat. “How was last Saturday’s performance of Chicago?” he asked.
“Very good,” Will replied, clamping down on any further evidentiary facial expressions. Uncharacteristic happiness on his part would only pique their curiosity. “My date and I enjoyed a pleasant evening. Thanks again for the seats.”
“We’re glad you were able to use them,” his mother added.
Glad? Of course they were. By asking for the seats, he’d provided his parents with a clue about what was going on in his life. Their server returned, and his mother ordered her usual luncheon fare, a salad, no cheese or croutons, with the dressing on the side. Another thing he appreciated about Jo—she had a healthy appetite and ate real food. His father ordered the petite filet, as rare as possible.
“I’ll start with the French onion soup.” Will handed the menu to the waiter. “Then I’ll have the mixed grill.” He’d need fortification to get through the next hour or so.
His mother sipped her wine and studied him. “How are things going with work, William?”
“Fine.” A long pause ensued while his parents digested—or interpreted—his one-word response, probably weighing “fine” against the knowledge that he’d recently taken off two weeks to do nothing and go nowhere. He could practically see the hamster wheels turning.
“Tell us about your young lady.” His father flashed him a pointed look. “Do you plan to see her again? Is she someone you could envision yourself with in the future?”
“I enjoy her company. As to the future, I barely know her.” Will took a roll from the basket and split it in half. “Pass the butter, please.” His mother handed him the chilled ceramic bowl filled with pats of butter.
“What’s her name? Is she from the Twin Cities?” his mother asked. “What does she do?”
Who are her people, and in which ivy league college did she get her degree? He’d learned how to listen between the lines when it came to his parents. “Her name is Josey, and there’s really nothing to tell at this point. You do realize I occasionally go out on dates. We’re not picking out rings after one night at the Orpheum.”
Asking to use the box seats had been a mistake he’d not repeat anytime soon. He’d tipped his hand, made it too obvious he’d wanted to please the woman in question. He glanced from one parent to the other. “I hope to see her again, but of course that’s entirely up to her.”
“Hmm.” This, along with a frown from his father.
“If you do continue to see this mystery woman, we’d love to meet her.” His mother’s eyes narrowed for an instant. “Invite her to join us for brunch at the club one Sunday. Strictly casual. We’ll dine on the terrace.”
If he and Josey were still together after the wedding and his bargained third date, he hoped they would have agreed by then to continue dating. They’d know if they wanted to take things to the next level or not. If he didn’t give his parents something, he’d face more tag-teaming get-togethers like today’s. Best get meeting his parents out of the way. After all, he’d meet Josey’s entire family for the wedding, which was next Saturday.
“All right.” A public place like their country club would work. There his parents would be more inclined toward politeness—even when dealing with a master plumber. He grinned again as visions of pink lacy undergarments beneath navy-blue twill flashed through his mind. “I suppose we can tentatively plan something.” Will pulled out his phone and opened his calendar. “Let’s say June twenty-fourth, and if I’m no longer seeing Jo, or if she’s unable to make it, it’ll just be me.”
His parents shared another look, this time their expressions transmitting triumph, or perhaps the look was conspiratorial. With them it was difficult to tell. Either way, so long as they quit pressing, he might be able to enjoy his lunch. Speaking of lunch, their waiter appeared with his soup. The delicious smells of onion, cheese and beef broth made his mouth water. “So, what’s new with the two of you?”
He half listened as his mother rambled on about the cases she was hearing, nodding and making appropriate sounds when necessary to encourage her to continue.
“You might consider running for a judgeship, William.” She smiled and took another sip of her wine.
“Perhaps.”
Then his father talked about the stock market, and the newest groundbreaking medical device his company was on the brink of releasing. By the time they’d finished eating, Will was no longer on the defensive. He’d made a concession and given his parents what they’d wanted. Peace reigned. When their waiter brought the bill, he picked it up.
“I’ll get that,” his father said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.
“Not this time,” Will told him. “This is to thank you for the theater tickets.”
“You don’t need to thank us, William,” his mother said, her tone benevolent.
Yes, he did. “Nevertheless, lunch is on me today.” He placed his credit card in the leather folder and set it on the corner of the table. As usual, his parents had met him with an agenda already set. He’d satisfied them … for now, but if anything came of the meeting he had planned with Greg after work today, all hell would break loose. His gut tied itself into its insignia knot, and his breath hitched. Who knew what he might unleash when that pile hit the fan?
Rock Bottom, a popular microbrewery and pub located a few blocks from where Will worked, was always jam-packed during happy hour on Friday nights. Luckily, Greg had arrived early enough to secure a table in the bar area for the two of them. “Hey, thanks for meeting me,” Will said, taking his seat.
Greg hoisted his beer in a salute. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been looking forward to this all week. It’s been too long. We’ve got to make a point of getting together more often.”
“No argument here,” Will agreed.
“I’ve been following your career, by the way. Damn.” Greg huffed out a laugh. “Junior partner already. Congratulations. Good for you, Will.”
“Turns out it’s not so good for me, but thanks.” Will ordered a beer, and another for Greg. Then he gave his friend the short version of what was going on with him and his career crisis. By the time he finished, their beers had been delivered.
“I need to make changes, and running into you and Sondra last Saturday motivated me to begin taking the first step toward that goal. I have a realtor looking into commercial property along the riverfront warehouse district in Saint Paul,” he said. “I want to buy a building, renovate to accommodate a number of businesses, and open a practice there with a partner or two. I’ll lease out most of the space, and that will give me the leeway to lower the overhead on the offices I use for my firm. The focus would be litigating on behalf of consumers who have been wronged, social justice issues, and representing progressive nonprofits—like what you’re doing now, only on a broader scale.”