“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“See. I knew you’d say that. I didn’t want to come as a bodyguard. I wanted to come as your date.”
Her mouth dried up, and her jaw slacked like a guppy out of water.
“My date?”
“Right.”
“Why?”
Carter wove one of his hands around her waist and moved closer. “I think about you all the time. Have for a while.”
“Really?” All of her one-word answers were starting to annoy even her.
Carter just smiled and moved in with calculated ease.
“Really. So what do you say, Eliza…can I ask you out on a date? Dinner? Maybe a movie?”
Dinner and a movie? Oh man, when was the last time she’d done that?
But this was Carter standing way inside her personal space, heating her body with his.
“Do you have time for dinner and a movie?”
“I’ll make time if you say yes.”
Eliza forced her eyes away from his, but they rested on his chest. His very big, very firm, yummy chest. “I don’t know, Carter. We don’t have a long history of getting along.”
“We seem to be doing okay tonight.”
“We’re in a crowded room.”
“Restaurants are crowded…movie theaters, too.”
She laughed. “I don’t know.”
Carter lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. His fingers trailed along her jaw with one simple stroke that fired all of her senses and surged energy down her spine.
“It’s dinner. We both eat. And I could use a real night off.”
Eliza fixated on his lips and felt the tip of her tongue sneak out of her mouth to moisten hers.
Carter sucked in a quick breath.
He was dangerously close. Close enough for her to absorb the masculine scent of his cologne, the very fragrance that lingered on her skin after their one brief intimate moment.
“Have dinner with me, Eliza.” The deep tenor of his voice rumbled in his chest.
“Dinner? I can do dinner.”
A sly smile lifted his lips and he moved even closer. His kiss hovered close and she moved closer.
“I want to kiss you,” he said, stroking her chin with one hand and keeping her tucked into his side with the other.
Eliza gave a tiny nod and waited for him to make good on his remark.
“But I think I’ll wait.” His words registered even though he didn’t move away.
“Wait?”
“I rushed you the last time. I don’t want to repeat the same mistake twice.”
Eliza tore her eyes from his lips and caught the mischief dancing behind his eyes. “Kissing me was a mistake?”
“Kissing you was a taste of heaven. Rushing you into that kiss…that was a mistake. I won’t rush you again.”
What if she wanted to be rushed? Talking about kissing and the act of kissing were very different monsters. Right now she was hungry for a taste of his lips. Before she could take action, Carter pulled away.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, six o’clock.”
“How should I dress?”
“Casual.”
She could do that. What she didn’t think she could do was rest until he delivered his promised kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
Dean ripped open a plain envelope that sat on his desk with his name scribbled on the front.
A note was stapled to a receipt from a department store. Your shoe-eating dog loves the taste of leather. What did you do, give him a cowhide to gnaw on?
It was signed simply “E.”
Dean scraped his jaw with his palm and covered a laugh. Sure enough, Eliza had sent him a bill for two pairs of shoes. Looking at the price, he knew Eliza had gone ahead and bought a more expensive pair than she usually wore.
He tossed the note on his desk and logged into his computer. With Eliza on his mind, he typed in the name of felon responsible for Zod’s presence in her life and waited for the man’s current location to pop up.
The prison records stated that he had been moved within the jail he’d been housed in for over a year. Dean wrote down the jail cell number, determined to find out who bunked with the scumbag.
He typed up a quick email to the warden asking for details and sent it off.
Dean already knew the man in jail had “good behavior” privileges. Newspapers and the television would be accessible.
It would be a lot easier if the man assaulted someone on the inside. Then his chances of seeing Eliza on the news or in the papers would be more difficult.
Dean wasn’t that lucky.
At least Eliza was sailing under the radar and had managed to keep her face out of the news for the past week.
Dean patted his jacket pocket by habit, searching for his pack of cigarettes. He bit his lower lip in an effort to squelch the need for nicotine. Eliza’s comment when she’d seen him hummed in his brain. He wanted to quit and purposely left the pack at home. He hadn’t smoked for thirteen hours and already his nerves were fried.
He sucked down his cold coffee in an effort to replace one chemical for another.
Damn warden is taking his time getting back to me.
Dean glanced at the time he’d sent the email. It had only been twenty minutes.
He’d picked a hell of a time to quit smoking…again.
****
They skipped the movie and played miniature golf. Carter knew if he sat down in a dark theater, he’d fall asleep within minutes. That wouldn’t bode well for his being voted “date of the year.”
What he wasn’t expecting was his date to be Little Miss Hole-in-one.
For the most part, they went unnoticed on the small golf course. Filled with families and teens, the patrons were too engrossed with each other to identify him as the potential next governor of the state. For once, he was happy to be invisible.
Carter leaned on his putter as Eliza lined up her ball.
“There’s no way you’ll make that with one swing.”
“Is that a challenge, Hollywood?”
“Even the sign says PAR is three.”
“Par schmar. It’s all in the angles, just like bowling and pool.”
Carter narrowed his eyes and waited while Eliza tapped the ball up an embankment, through a narrow hole and come within two inches of the hole before it stopped.
“Told you.”
One tiny tap and the ball went in. “That’s still one under PAR. You’d have to make this in one shot and the next three just to catch up.”
Carter dropped his ball and attempted to see the angles Eliza referred to. “I didn’t know you were so competitive.” He tapped the ball, watched it roll up, and then right back down before it landed within a foot of where he started.
Eliza laughed. “Why do things half way? Do it right or don’t do it at all?”
He hit the ball again and made it through the hole. “Who taught you that?”
“My dad, actually. He was an optimist who believed anything was achievable with hard work and determination.” Her voice softened and Carter glanced up from the ball to see her gazing into the sky. He’d never heard her talk about her parents. Considering the events in her life, she probably never did.
“Was he a hard worker?”
Eliza sighed. “Eighteen hour days. He held a nine to five and then picked up extra work after hours. He believed in parents staying home to raise their children.”
Carter tapped the ball, overshot his mark.
Eliza kept talking. “My mom took care of the house, cooked…she baked bread. I remember our whole house smelling like yeast and dough. Some kids wanted their moms to bake cookies. I used to live for a thick pad of real butter smothered over oven-hot freshly baked bread.”
Carter couldn’t relate, his own mother wouldn’t know the right side of a spatula.
“We always ate dinner as a family. My dad would come home between jobs, shower and sit down to three courses before moving on to
his next job. He never complained. When I would moan about him not being around, he’d remind me how lucky we were to have so much. Most of my friends at school were latch-key kids who didn’t see either of their parents.”
“I wish I could have met them,” Carter said in a low voice.
Eliza shook her head and smiled. “They would’ve like you. And forgiven the fact that you’re a republican.”
“Ahh,” He laughed. “Democrats.”
“Optimistic. For all the good it did us.”
“They raised a smart girl.”
She pointed her putter toward the forgotten ball. “You can distract me with compliments, but I know you’re one over PAR already.”
Carter hit the ball again, missed, and endured Eliza’s laughter. “You really suck at this.”
“Do you always gloat when you win?” He was smiling along with her and knew her competitive nature wasn’t mean spirited.
“Yep.”
Carter moaned.
Later they found a casual restaurant with an outside patio overlooking the ocean. “I hope this is okay.”
Eliza lifted her hands in the air. “It’s a crab shack, what’s not to love?”
The noise from inside the restaurant drifted to the outside. There was a playoff game playing inside with plenty of people watching in the bar. “I needed a break from fine dining.”
“I’ll bet.” She picked up a menu and peered at him over it. “You do know that women are told never to pick crab to eat on a date, right?”
“They are?”
“It’s messy and usually expensive. Nothing says class like eating with your fingers.”
Carter found himself worrying if he’d picked the wrong restaurant. He’d enjoyed playing golf and listening to Eliza talk about her parents, and he’d hoped to keep the night moving in the same easy-going direction.
“So what are you going to order?”
“King crab legs with extra butter.” Her answer was quick.
He tossed his head back and laughed. “What about first date impressions? Aren’t you worried about setting your gender back a notch or two?”
She placed her menu back on the table. “I like crab.”
“Even if it’s messy?”
Eliza nodded over to a couple at another table. “I’ll wear a bib.”
He folded his hands and leaned forward. The confidence and ease she had in her own skin excited him. She’d tucked her rich dark hair into a small clip but a strand had fallen loose. He brushed it behind her ear and let his finger linger on her skin. He could get used to touching her. There wasn’t a time in recent memory where they’d managed to get alone for as many hours as they had on this date.
He liked it.
They talked about the first time she’d eaten crab and discussed the uselessness of the tiny fork provided by the restaurant. When dinner arrived and hot butter escaped the crab and dribbled down Eliza’s chin, Carter leaned over and wiped her face clean.
Her eyes caught his and, for a minute, the conversation stopped. All he could do was stare.
She was beautiful. If she were sitting a little closer, he would have taken advantage of the pause in conversation to kiss her. As it was, he sat across the table. He had to settle for capturing her hand and stroking the inside of her wrist.
“Eating crab is a two handed game, Hollywood.”
He glanced down at her small hand in his. She wasn’t pulling away, and that left him hopeful. He lifted it to his lips, watching her observe his movements as he kissed the back of it. Her smile fell and desire sparked in the back of her eyes. He probably looked like a sap kissing the back of her hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
On a sigh, he reluctantly released her hand and continued with dinner.
Later, as he drove up the narrow street on the way to her home, they were both laughing at the latest YouTube video that aired where the Princess of Denmark caught some old guy staring at her cleavage.
“I wonder how he explained that to his wife,” Eliza said, giggling.
“I’m sure he lied and said he was checking out her jeweled necklace.”
“You have to love social media. There’s more to watch online than there is on TV.”
Carter pulled into her driveway and moved quickly to help her out of the car. Instead of walking her up to the door, he took her hand in his and kept her next to the car. “I had fun,” he told her. Politics escaped his mind all night, and he nearly forgot that he’d turned off his phone before picking her up. God only knew what awaited him when he turned the damn thing back on.
“Not a bad first date.”
“So, did I pass for a second date?”
“Maybe.”
Oh, he passed, but she wanted to see him squirm.
The curtains moved beyond the front window of the house. Not only did Eliza have a police dog waiting for her, Gwen was probably awake as well.
“What if I bribe you with lobster and Dom Perignon?”
“Maybe I don’t like champagne.”
Carter inched closer, until her body was edged between his and the car. “I’ve been in two weddings with you. Not only do you like champagne, you love the good stuff.”
Her eyes fixated on his lips. “I could eat lobster,” she uttered.
He bent down and captured her lips. Like heated butter, she melted in his arms and moaned into his kiss. Her soft lips opened, and he explored her offering. The length of her body met his as he eased his weight closer and pinned her to the car. The last time he’d kissed a woman thoroughly outside a door, or over a car, had to have been in high school. Their kiss would be only that, passionate and steamy, but it would begin and end with a kiss. For some odd reason knowing they wouldn’t go farther excited him even more.
His arousal pressed against her stomach. Eliza had to know the affect she had on him. It was more than a physical attraction. All night they’d talked, laughed, and were enamored with each other’s company. When Eliza snarled at something he’d said, he delivered a like response. Instead of their banter escalating into something ugly, they laughed off their differences in a playful manner.
As he kissed her now and felt her pulling him close, it wasn’t a question of if he would make love to her, but a matter of when. The thought thrilled him as much as the anticipation might kill him.
He ended the kiss with a soft whimper. “I should walk you to the door before Gwen releases the dog.”
Eliza leaned her forehead against his chest. “If you told me a month ago that I would have a roommate and a dog, I’d have laughed you out of town.”
“You have both.”
“I do. And you should get home to rest anyway. Don’t you have to fly out tomorrow?”
Yes, he did.
He kissed her again, briefly and then walked her to the door.
Zod barked at their approach, and Carter heard Gwen call the animal back.
“I’ll call you in the morning.”
“You don’t have to do that, Carter.”
“It’s not about have to.”
She smiled, obviously pleased. Just like the kissing of her hand, the little things he did brought the biggest smiles to her lips.
He’d have to remember that.
****
“We have a problem,” Dean tossed an old newspaper on Jim’s desk and waited for Jim to pick it up.
“What am I looking at?”
“The entertainment and celebrity section of the Hollywood Tribune. Check out page five.”
The Harrison wedding party snagged the center portion of the page with Eliza standing beside the bride.
“Okay…so, we saw this a few weeks ago. This paper is old. Why is it a problem now?”
Dean leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I took the liberty of checking on little Ricky. As you know they moved him to San Quentin last year.” Neither of them had been happy to find Ricardo back in California.
“Old news.”
“Guess
who his bunk mate is.”
Jim tapped his fingers against the newspaper and attempted to think up an answer to Dean’s riddle. “No clue.”
“Does the name Harris Elliot mean anything to you?”
For a split second Jim’s confusion filled his face. Then his jaw dropped.
His eyes pitched back to the photograph.
“Samantha Elliot Harrison’s father.”
“Bingo.”
“Christ.”
“According to the guards on the block, Harry offers stock tips to the cops who bring him pictures or newspaper clippings about his daughters. How much you wanna bet there’s a picture like this one somewhere in Harry’s cell?”
“Fuck.”
Chapter Fourteen
Eliza sat across from Karen’s desk and regarded the blonde bombshell with hope. Karen ran Moonlight Assisted Living and happened to be one of Alliance’s clients. Well, hopeful clients.
“So what’s this meeting about? Did you find a husband for me?” Karen was stunning, intelligent, and completely capable of finding a rich man on her own, but she’d chosen Alliance to search out a rich husband so she could spend time making a difference in other peoples’ lives.
Unfortunately, Karen’s beauty intimidated several men who were eligible. “The only one I have right now who meets your cash requirements is a very mature man who simply wants to spite his children.”
Karen narrowed her ice blue eyes. “How mature?”
“Seventy-six.”
“Ouch.”
Eliza shrugged. “I know. He’s a very nice guy. I think he wants to scare his children into submission. What he really needs is a plump, old Italian woman to mother him and hit the kids with her wooden spatula.”
Karen tossed back her head and laughed. “Sound like my Aunt Edie.”
“She’s Italian?”
“Kinda. My late Uncle Joe was full blood Italian, so you might say she had regular injections of Italian. She talks with an accent and everything. They lived in New York for years before they found out Joe had emphysema. Then they moved here for the nice weather. Aunt Edie has been a widow for ten years now.”
Eliza found herself tapping her foot. “Any chance Edie would like to be set up on a blind date?”
Married by Monday (Weekday Brides) Page 12