by V. H. Luis
“You’re right. If only there was a socially acceptable practice in which a man and a woman could get to know each other, we could solve this problem.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Well, since you put it that way, dinner sounds great. How should I dress?”
“The way you were dressed yesterday would be appropriate for tonight. You looked beautiful in that dress.”
My cheeks burn at the compliment. “Okay, I’ll see you at six.” I say nothing else because my brain cells can’t muster the creative energy.
He chuckles and I wonder if it’s at my expense. “See you tonight.”
I end the call. Did I just agree to a date with Adam Black? Should I be happy? Should I be nervous? A thousand questions cross my mind. Though I’m aware I’m not in the best place for this type of contemplation, I’m not willing to go back inside.
Mass appears to have ended. People shuffle out of the church, and my mother emerges with a deep frown between her eyes.
“Where did you go?” she murmurs, void of reproof. She must be under the impression that I stepped out due to racing, guilt-ridden emotions.
“I had a phone call,” I say, hoping she lets the matter go. It’s uncomfortable talking to my mother as it is.
“Who called you?” She asks the question I wanted to avoid.
“Tina.” I smile at her as I lie. It’s a believable fib and will spare us both an awkward conversation, so at least to me, it a considerate gesture.
Okay, I’m probably lying to myself at this point, but I can live with that.
She nods as we make our way toward the car.
I kiss my mother goodbye as she drops me off at my house, race up the steps leading to my porch, and go inside.
Adam Black wants to see me. In the blink of an eye, the world is filled with endless possibilities, with an enchantment that’s been absent for years, and I welcome the change with a smile.
Chapter Five
I’VE CHOSEN TO wear an above-the-knee navy-blue dress. It’s low cut, with a plunging neckline that ends at the top of my sternum, right between my breasts. I bought the dress on a dare from Tina. She said it showcased some of my finer assets. Grabbing my two favorite wide-band bracelets, I hide the scars of my past.
At a quarter to six, I text Tina.
SPENT THE DAY PAINTING. I’M REALLY TIRED AND I’M GOING TO BED.
TALK TO YOU TOMORROW.
As I stand there lying to my best friend, I realize this is the second time today that I’ve been dishonest with someone I love. Way to go. Soon you’ll be able to do this in your sleep. I frown as I shake off the remorse. This lie is necessary. Tina has spent the last few years scrutinizing my actions, and I’m not interested in her warnings. I want to take a risk on Adam Black, on whatever tonight may bring. The vibration of my phone captures my attention.
YOU’RE GOING TO SLEEP AT SIX IN THE EVENING?
GEEZ EVIE, WE NEED TO GET YOU A LIFE.
IS EVERYTHING OKAY WITH YOU?
Her silly comment about getting a life makes me laugh, because that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Maybe if I were honest with Tina, she’d support me, she wouldn’t weight me down with warnings and concerns. A part of me wants to trust her and tell her about Adam, but the threat of being cautioned against him, is holding me back. And the truth is, I like the idea of keeping him my decadent little secret.
I shoot Tina another text, telling her I’m doing great and after her acquiescing response, I slip the phone in my purse. Sitting on the couch, I grab a magazine, attempting to distract myself with idle gossip. But a minute later, after reading the same paragraph three times, I quit the futile endeavor. I haven’t been on a date in years, and I’m nervous. Before I can think more about it, a sharp knock startles me.
Inhaling a deep breath to steady my nerves, I open the door. The second I see him I’m struck dumb. Michelangelo’s David is before me, only he’s not naked. Unfortunately. I’m shocked by my hormone-induced thoughts.
Like yesterday, his eyes follow the contours of my form, pausing for a long moment at the gaping neckline of my dress. He’s so blatant in his observation I can’t keep quiet.
“Do you like the dress?”
His eyes meet my gaze and a slow smile forms on his lips. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
I take a step forward, closing the door behind me.
“The polite thing to do, Mr. Black, would be to cater to my vanity.”
He laughs, and like earlier in the day, the throaty texture of his voice ripples across my skin, giving me chills. He leans forward, pinning me.
“The color of your dress suits you. It contrasts nicely with your pale, smooth skin. It hugs all the right places.”
He lifts his free hand and presses his fingertips on the arch of my neck. I gulp once as the muscles above my collarbone tighten.
“Your cheeks are flushed. It might be a result of the heat in the air, but my guess would be that our close proximity excites you. And I like that, too.”
Sliding over the slope of my shoulder, he trails his fingertips until they rest at the bend of my arm. Teasingly, he rubs small circles against the tender skin, and my pulse quickens so that the roar of blood echoes in my ear.
“But if I had to pick the feature that most affects me, it would be your eyes, because they give everything away. They reflect exactly what you’re feeling.”
His lips hover above my ear and the warm caress of his breath makes my nipples peak against the thin fabric of my dress.
“Has your vanity been sated now?”
That’s when I realize I’m playing for the junior varsity team and he’s in the NFL—I’m so out of my league it’s pathetic.
“Why did you ask me out?”
He flashes that movie-star grin that makes my knees go weak. “I’ve been told that things, though they at first seem simple, may in fact be multi-dimensional. I’m testing that theory.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”
He takes a step back and extends his hand. “Flattered, of course. Shall we?”
I hesitate. I don’t know this man. He may be a complete psycho, the doppelganger of Norman Bates. Okay, that’s probably not the case. He did save my life. However, in the span of five minutes he has me eating out of the palm of his hand—he’s without-a-doubt dangerous. But who am I kidding? Cupid has long since shot me, so I place my hand in his.
He leads me to his car, a black Mercedes SLS, and before I can reach for the handle he opens my door.
“Thank you.”
He winks at me, his way of saying you’re welcome, and I know that if I stare long enough, I’m going to drown in those ocean-blue eyes. Though I don’t let the fear cripple me, and in minutes we’re speeding down Collins Avenue.
“I’m surprised you’re traveling alone. I assumed you’d have some form of security.” I press my thighs together, my palms resting on the soft leather seat. It’s a rigid pose because I’m too tightly wound to relax in his presence.
“Why should I have security with me? Are you planning on assaulting me?” He glances at me with a playful grin as he shifts gears.
“That depends.”
“On what, exactly? Let me guess, on my varied artistic opinions?”
The reference to yesterday’s heated creative debate makes me smile. I shake my head.
“It depends on how long you plan to keep our destination a mystery, Mr. Black.”
“Call me Adam.”
The quick command makes frown. Does he want me to call him Adam, or are his good manners forcing him to allow the familiarity?
“Okay,” I mutter, like a child who’s been found with her hand in the cookie jar.
He stares at me as we pause at a red light. “As for where we’re going, it’s a surprise.” He’s adopted a matter-of-fact tone that implies the conversation is over and the ease I felt a second ago evaporates.
Peering out the window, I notice we’re in South Be
ach. We turn on James Avenue, arriving at our destination. I’m familiar with the restaurant, though I never imagined I would eat there. Teachers don’t exactly make big money.
Adam parks his car and a valet scurries toward him, while another opens my door. I step out, wide-eyed because the reality of my situation is hard for me to comprehend. I’m here, in a beautiful dress and in the company of Adam Black.
“Evelyn.” Adam’s voice is soft, yet firm.
He grabs my hand. Maybe it’s because he’s addressed me by my first name or the charming setting, but around him I feel like a storybook princess and that’s a perilous sensation.
As he pulls me along I scan the beautiful courtyard. There’s a large tree in the corner decorated with lanterns. The inside of the restaurant is equally enchanting. It’s reminiscent of a provincial Italian villa.
An impeccably dressed gentleman approaches us.
“Mr. Black, welcome back.” He sounds genuinely pleased to see him.
We’re led to a back room where a single table stands ready. Adam pulls out my chair and I smile at him in spite of my trepidation and nerves. He reviews the wine list with purpose and selects a bottle as I sit there, not sure of what to say. Finally, the servers leave us with our menus.
“You’re quiet.” He arches an enquiring brow.
I purse my lips for a beat, thinking.
“I don’t know what would be appropriate to say. I’m not exactly sure why we’re here or why I came in the first place.”
I’m frowning at this point, and I can’t put the brakes on my mouth.
“Part of me thinks you conjured up this evening to see me squirm, to make me uncomfortable. But the truth is, I don’t know. Your actions have been a mystery to me since we first met.”
He obviously finds me amusing because he tosses the menu on the table and throws his head back in a full-body laugh. I stiffen my jaw at the sight.
“I’m so glad you find me entertaining,” I mutter.
Leaning forward, he eyes me with a predatory stare. “I find you more than entertaining, Evelyn, and that’s a compliment.”
The admission thaws my anger, though my body remains tense.
“I brought you here this evening because I thought the atmosphere would be one you’d appreciate.”
His not so subtle reproach makes regret wash over me like summer rain. I cast my gaze down, a penitent expression on my face.
“As for the notion that I enjoy making you squirm…” He leans back in his chair, totally at ease. “I plead guilty. Although that’s not the only reason we’re here. I have a business proposition for you.”
The sudden image of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman flashes before my eyes.
“What type of proposition?”
His voice softens as he gazes at me. “I want you to paint something for me.”
What? I wasn’t expecting that. I wonder if this is how Leonardo Da Vinci felt when he was commissioned by the wealthy patrons of Europe. As I stare at Adam Black and his damn-near perfect features, a current of electricity flows through me. Nope, Leonardo probably didn’t feel this way.
“You look surprised.”
“Well…”
We’re interrupted by our waiter, who goes over the lengthy specials. I didn’t know there were so many adjectives to describe pasta. Adam, irritated by the interruption, cuts him off, informing him that we already know what we want. I haven’t had time to review the menu, so when I’m asked what I would like to eat, I’m at a loss. I glance at Adam and he interjects.
“We’ll have the Burrata with Organic Tomatoes and Petrossian Osetra Caviar as our antipasti.” He focuses on me. “Do you eat meat?”
I nod, because the truth is, I’ll pretty much eat anything. I’m a malleable piece of clay next to this man.
“Then we’ll have the Gnocchi with Roasted Eggplant and two orders of Beef Tenderloin.”
The menu makes a small snap as it closes and he promptly hands it to the waiter. He acts every bit the no-nonsense businessman, and the sight leaves me hot, because even the assertive way he orders dinner is a total turn-on.
The waiter scurries off as the sommelier brings out the bottle of wine Adam ordered. He takes a brief sip, inspecting its taste, and our glasses are poured. Once we’re alone, I let the insecurities brewing within me spew out.
“Why would you want a painting from me?”
“From what I’ve seen, you clearly have talent.”
I hate the compliment because it dulls the resentment I’m harboring.
“Why not tell me this business proposition over the phone or even at my house?”
“You don’t like this setting?” he asks.
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” He studies me with a sly smile.
A thought pops into my head. Maybe this was his intention all along, to make me burn. The arrogant bastard wants me to fawn over him. Well, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. I reach for my wine, taking a welcome sip, willing myself to calm.
“What would you like me to paint for you?” My voice is much more put together than my thoughts. My eyes are fixed on his as I put the glass down.
Those deep blue eyes lock on mine challengingly.
“I would think the answer obvious. What you enjoy painting, something related to nature, a flower, perhaps. It’s more a mural than a painting. I have a large space, an empty wall that could use some color. Of course, you will be compensated for your time and effort.”
I nod wordlessly as the food arrives. It smells delicious, and yet my appetite is nonexistent. He only wants me to paint something for him.
“Do you have any family?”
The question is unexpected. One moment we’re discussing a painting and the next, my family.
“Um…” I hate sounding so ineloquent. “Yes, my mother and a few cousins I rarely talk to.”
“You have no siblings?”
I fidget in my seat as I scramble for an answer.
“No. My parents divorced when I was young. My mother did remarry, though she never had any other children.”
“What about your father?”
Thinking of my father reminds me of sad times, late nights, and hours spent crying. “He died a few years ago.” I don’t whisper the statement, but there’s a tremble to my voice I can’t conceal.
The muscles in his forearms tense as he straightens against the seat. His detached features soften with what appears to be concern. “I’m sorry.”
His expression makes me uncomfortable, so I shift the conversation. “What about you, do you have any family?”
He takes a deep breath. I get the impression he wants to persist with his line of questioning, but after a brief pause, he acquiesces.
“My parents live here in Florida, and my sister is currently studying at Columbia University, in New York.” He takes a sip of wine while leaning forward abruptly. “You have beautiful eyes. They remind me of honey.”
Caught off guard, I blurt out what I’m thinking. “Says the man with the most startling eyes I’ve ever seen.” To avoid his gaze, I reach for my glass, downing the contents more out of necessity than want. I can’t believe I said that.
A charming chuckle emerges from his lips as he watches me. “Are you always this honest?”
I blink in rapid succession as the flush of embarrassment burns against my cheeks. “No. Not really.”
“That’s interesting.” He licks his bottom lip.
The husky purr of his voice mingled with the sight of his tongue makes my abdomen tighten. I push my thighs together in an attempt to subdue the burning ache between my legs, and the action makes the fabric of the tablecloth rustle.
I’ve lost this game of cat and mouse, because I’m a step away from writhing in front of him with unbridled desire and he knows it. I need to get out of here before I really embarrass myself.
“It’s getting late,” I say, while digging my nails into the tender flesh of my thighs. Th
e sting of pain helps me focus.
“Would you like dessert?” It’s an innocent statement that contradicts the sexy half-smile he’s wearing.
Are you on the menu? Ignoring my naughty thought, I shake my head. “I should probably get home. I have to wake up early tomorrow.”
He nods and the intense moment dissipates. In minutes the bill has been paid, the car retrieved, and we are on our way back. We talk idly about paintings we are fond of and books we like. It’s the type of conversation you would have with someone on a first date. Is this a first date?
“Will you do it? The mural, I mean.”
He’s driving, his eyes locked on the road, which makes him easier to resist.
“I work every day. I’m not sure I have the time.”
It’s a poor excuse. The reality is, I’m terrified of being alone with him. What I feel toward this man is beyond attraction, it’s an animalistic arousal that borders on inappropriate. And what scares me the most is that I’m not sure the sentiment is mutual.
“You could work on it in the evenings and during the weekend.”
He’s so practical, it’s difficult to say no, and yet I have to. There’s only one ending to this story, and it has nothing to do with fairytales.
We pull into my driveway and because I forgot to turn on the porch lights, it’s dim. He shifts the car into park and I instantly reach for the door.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t have the time to work on a project of that magnitude.” Before he can respond I add quickly, “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
Rounding the Mercedes as fast as my legs can bear to walk, my breath hitches at the sight of his tall frame in front of me.
“Taking you out to dinner has been my sincere pleasure.”
Polite as ever, he leads me to my door, his hand brushing against mine in feather-light caresses as we move. Is he doing that on purpose?
The dull sound of my rapid heartbeat keeps me in pace, like a metronome. If I can make it in the house, everything will be fine. My life will stay the same. My days will continue being the gray I’m used to, and this crazy flurry of emotions will no longer plague me.
I climb the steps, and to my surprise, I have the dexterity to plunge the key into the lock.