by Juli Valenti
I hated to admit it, but I was melting. There was no other word for it. He’d alluded that there was something intriguing about me; well, right back at him. Something about this guy made me want to continue talking to him, keep this moment between us. There was something that made want to know him.
“So, what kind of work do you do?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Architecture stuff, pretty boring, really. You?” he asked, immediately shaking his head. “Never mind, stupid question. I know you don’t need to work.”
“I work,” I said, not having to pretend at being affronted. I knew everyone assumed that I would just be a socialite, either here, or in Georgia, because of my father’s money, but it always bothered me. I’d never be that girl. “Actually, I work at a doctor’s office.” I said the words proudly, the same as an Oscar-winning actress would toot about her award. Sure, it wasn’t rocket science, but I loved my job. I loved that I had one that forced me to rely on my own abilities, not something I’d done nothing to deserve. I enjoyed talking with people, despite my not-so-good brain-to-mouth filter, and I found it rewarding. Every promotion I’d ever gotten, every raise, I worked my ass off for, and no one could take that from me.
“I’m sorry, I just assumed,” he said, waving his hand between us as if to wave his words away. “Do you have a crowbar I could use to remove my foot from my mouth?”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an easy mistake, and you’re not the first to make it. And no, I don’t have a crowbar for that particular problem … If you ever find one, please let me know. I, too, often suffer from that particular problem.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who suffers, then,” he chuckled, letting his knee brush against mine. I had no clue when our chairs got to be close enough to do so, but they had, and shockingly enough, I didn’t mind.
Surprised with how good a time I was having bantering with Dane, I lifted my drink to my lips, only to find the glass was empty. When had I drunk all of it? I didn’t remember doing it, but then, I’d been distracted by other things. Mainly him.
Glancing around the room, I also noticed there were less people now than there were when we arrived. The ones left were sitting down and still talking – laughing, taking selfies like the group in the corner, that kind of thing – some were dancing in the middle of the room. Soft classical music was playing, the sort that would usually bore me, but now I envied them. I wanted to dance to it, feel the sweet notes fill my soul, my heart, sweep me off my feet.
“Would you like to dance?” Dane asked, following my gaze to the dancing couples.
“Yes,” I said, not hesitating.
Standing, he held his hand out to me and I took it, allowing him to lead me to a clear spot. The current song ended just in time, the band starting back up with a melody that sounded familiar, I just couldn’t place it. Dane pulled me close, wrapping his arm around my back to rest at my hip, while still holding my hand. Moving my free hand to grip his shoulder, I allowed him to move, completely intoxicated by his smell alone. My face barely reached his chest, and, for the first time in a long time, I wished I was a little taller, just so I could rest my head in the crook of his neck. Instead, I settled for placing my ear to where his heart was, letting myself get lost in his embrace.
Dane was a pretty good dancer, doing more than just shifting his weight from foot to foot. He moved us backward and forward, through the others still swaying to the music, even twirling me once for good measure. My insides did a happy sigh. About three-quarters of the way through the song, I finally placed it as “You Look Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton.
“Oh my darling, you were wonderful tonight,” Dane whispered softly into my hair as the final chords rang out of the song. I swooned so hard I almost tipped over in my heels.
I luckily recovered my composure, but even after the song ended, neither of us moved. The people around us clapped as the band announced they were taking a break before a final set, and, still, we didn’t move. Although I desperately wanted to peek up at his face – so I could read what he was thinking – I refrained. If I was being honest, I was afraid of what I would see.
Instead, I let Dane hold me, relishing in the feel of being in his arms. I sighed happily as he dropped my hand and wrapped his now free arm around me, hugging me. I’ll hand it to the guy, he gave great hug.
“People are staring,” Dane mused, his lips close to my ear.
“So?” My brain had fogged and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Who cared? Not me, that’s for sure. I was as content as a cat in his arms, which was strange for me, but I decided to go with it. Something that felt so good couldn’t be wrong.
“I think I saw one of the journalists bust out a camera.” His voice was still soft, though I could hear a hint of irritation and urging. It wasn’t hard to tell he was unhappy about the prospect. “Let’s get out of here,” he continued, pressing his lips to my temple in a gentle kiss. I shivered before stepping back to look at him.
“What?” I asked, shaking my head to clear it. A flash from a nearby camera was more effective and I felt the blood drain from my face. What was I doing? This wasn’t Atlanta; I wasn’t anonymous here. I didn’t even really know this guy, except that he was mega good looking and made me laugh. Now our picture was going to make the tabloids. The ones taken on the way in were paling in comparison to what they would have now. I could see the headlines now and I dreaded them. The two of us caught canoodling in a public place was just the kind of thing the rumor mill workers loved.
“Oh, shit,” I exclaimed, wanting to cover my face but deciding against it. If they were going to run pictures of us together, I preferred they not be of me hiding, ashamed. No, instead I plastered the fakest smile I could muster and grabbed Dane’s hand. “I need to get out of here,” I told him, my voice strained but quiet.
“Come,” he commanded, returning my grin and giving my hand a tug. He pulled me back toward the bar and collected my clutch from the man behind it. Good thing he remembered … I’d completely forgotten about it. Oops. Wow his bum looks good bending over. Stop it, Ryen, focus.
“Do you have a shawl or jacket?” Dane asked, interrupting my scattered thoughts.
“No,” I squeaked, immediately embarrassed and hating it. Good for me, though, he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were intense as he looked me over and nodded. So serious. As he clasped my elbow and led me toward the door, his grip gentle but strong, I decided I liked the serious side of Dane too. Too? Crap, so maybe I just like Dane. Orrrr… maybe I was just happy to be in the company of a guy who wasn’t talking about video games. Yes, that’s it. No, it’s not, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I couldn’t silence the voice in my head that was cheering happily. All my warnings were going ignored on the possibility of a new man in my life. ALL THIS CELEBRATION IS PREMATURE, I thought in all caps – that’s the only way you can scream internally, right?
Chapter Nine
Dane maneuvered us easily through the room and out the front door. We both smiled and nodded to the few remaining press before making our way to the valet booth. Luckily for us, none of the cameras followed us.
“John,” Dane acknowledged the man, obviously knowing him.
“Brian, Miss,” he returned the greeting, smiling kindly at me. I nodded in kind, internally panicking. I hadn’t texted my driver to let him know I was leaving early. He wasn’t supposed to be back until two AM – it was only twelve-thirty. Without any notice, and the event still going on, I was effectively stranded.
“If you’ll wait here, I’ll be right back,” the valet named ‘John’ said before snatching a ring off the board behind him and disappearing into the night.
“Dane … my car and driver aren’t here yet.”
I don’t know why I said it – pointing out the obvious. He could see there were no cars in line waiting other than a row of taxis, but I couldn’t help it.
The man next to me, still h
olding my elbow, remained silent. Granted, I hadn’t known him long, only a few hours now, but I could tell something was bothering him. Being the natural worrier I was, I started replaying the entire night’s events in my head, mentally searching for the cause of the change in him. He’d been fine when we’d talked, and the dancing. The photographs: that’s when he went serious. Maybe he wasn’t happy to be caught on film with me. What if he was married or something? Did he have kids? I’d never asked. My heart dropped as I drew the worst possible conclusions.
“I’m sorry,” I told him, trying not to sound belligerent, and failing. When I’m frustrated or hurt, I tend to handle anger better than any other emotion.
“For what?” He truly seemed perplexed as he ran a hand over his face. I followed the motion, actively searching for a ring or a tan line I may have missed. Nope, nothing.
“For getting caught on film with me? For the dancing? For us meeting? Take your pick,” I snapped, stepping out of his reach. Sure, I was uncomfortable with the thought that tabloids would be pimping out our pictures, but was I really that bad? I know I’m a pain in the ass, but I looked somewhat decent. Especially tonight in the dress. A troll couldn’t wear something as pretty, right?
“Ryen, what are you talking about?” he asked, reaching for me again. When I only stepped out of his grasp once more, he sighed. “This is crazy. Let me clear things up for you. A - I’m not upset that our picture was taken. There were cameras when I ran into you at the entry… Remember? You’re young, beautiful, smart, and we’re both single. If I was worried, I wouldn’t have spent the evening at a high-profile charity event, talking with you. It was you who suggested leaving.”
Crap, I had, hadn’t I? I just didn’t want to deal with the fallout, the invasion of my privacy. The moment the shutter had clicked, capturing the two of us embracing, my treasured solitude was over. Paparazzi would be everywhere now, on constant ‘Ryen watch.’ It was a pressure I’d hoped to avoid. Opening my mouth to speak, Dane held a hand up, halting my words in my throat.
“B - the dancing. I fucking loved dancing with you, Ryen. I can’t even explain it, except that I didn’t want it to end. In that moment I knew I was the luckiest SOB in the room. You were in my arms. Any negatives you may have on that point are way off. And, lastly, C -” he said, catching his breath while I stared open-mouthed. “I’m elated we met. Stop being so damned guarded and defensive – I like you. I thought about you the entire flight here, and had even hoped you’d be here, though I thought it was impossible. There … that about cover it?” he asked, his face flushed.
“Um … yeah,” I answered, speechless. My brain couldn’t process his words, instead continuously repeating them like a skipping record.
“Good.” With that, he slammed his mouth against mine. My first reaction was to pull back, to shove him away, but apparently my head and my body were on different pages. I let him kiss me, melting into him as his hand gripped my face, gently holding me in place. His lips were soft, warm, and his stubble teased my cheek.
I gasped when his tongue darted out, running across my lips as a silent request. Granted access, he explored my mouth, every nook and cranny. It’d be a long time since I’d been kissed like this. I was in heaven. It took only a moment for me to respond, pressing my body flush against him and allowing my tongue to meet his. He tasted like gin and man, and so good it should be illegal. He’d dropped his hands at some point, moving them to rest along my sides. I couldn’t have stopped the moan that escaped me when his thumbs grazed the sides of my breasts, even if I’d wanted to. Boy did I not want to at the moment. Suddenly someone cleared their throat behind Dane.
“Ignore them – they’ll go away,” he growled into my open mouth before deepening the kiss. Damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me.
“Mister Ranucci, your car, sir.” I recognized the voice as John, the valet. Despite his obvious disappointment, Dane broke the kiss, idly tucking a strand of hair that’d escaped my chignon behind my ear. Kissing me a final time, almost chastely, on the lips, he turned. Well, if he didn’t look like the cat that ate the canary. I stayed quiet as he collected the keys, trying to slow my breathing before I passed out.
Dane ushered me toward his car, a shiny blue Mercedes coupe. It wasn’t surprising that his car would be intimidating, like him. I was surprised, however, that he actually owned a car in the city – I told him so too.
“I don’t own it … it’s a rental. I don’t like being chauffeured to crap like this – I like to leave whenever I want. Renting makes it easier,” he elaborated as he helped lower me in it. He even leaned down to pick the bottom of my gown up, making sure it was safely away from the door as he shut it. Awww.
The inside of the car was nothing short of luxurious. Black leather seats and carbon fiber greeted me, looking plush and rich and masculine – exactly the car I would have envisaged for him. There were more buttons on the console, gear shift, and doors than I’d ever know what to do with. Dane climbed in, looking ridiculously in control as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Of course he’d be at home in something like this. His rental kicked my little Civic’s ass.
“What kind of car is this? Other than a Mercedes,” I asked him, genuinely curious. I wasn’t a huge car buff, but I had a healthy appreciation for them.
“It’s a CLS 63 AMG S Coupe, decked out of course.” His face lit up as he spoke – boys and their toys and all that. I opened my mouth to ask him another question when my stomach growled. It was so loud in the silence of the vehicle that I cringed. Real ladylike, Ryen, that voice scolded me. I only now realized I hadn’t eaten anything except breakfast, plus the little snacks on the plane. Grey Goose, unfortunately, isn’t considered a food group.
“Hungry?” Dane asked, chuckling.
“Famished,” I whispered, ignoring the silent wisp of desire I felt at his grin. No. Don’t get it bad, girl. Don’t.
“I know a place,” he said as he eased out into traffic. How he could maneuver in Manhattan was beyond me, but he managed like a pro. He must rent a car often, or at least drive in other big cities.
We rode in silence, but not uncomfortably so. Dane had turned the radio on at some point, letting a variety of soft music filter through the speakers. I’d found I really enjoyed being in his company, even when neither of us were talking. The few times he’d caught me watching him, he’d smiled and ducked his head, almost shyly. Damn, shy looked good on him as well.
Not going to lie, I kept waiting for the real asshole to appear. I knew it was unfair, and that it was still early, but it was the truth. Unfortunately, I knew better than most that the real person behind the face could take months to show up. It was disappointing we couldn’t just tattoo “bad guy” and “maturity of a snail” on their foreheads. Maybe then us girls would have a chance – easy, pick the guy with no tattoo and Blam! Instant boyfriend material.
“We’re here, beautiful.” God, he needed to not call me that, especially on an empty stomach. The butterflies were almost too much to bear. Food. Need food.
Looking out the windshield, I caught sight of the “place” he knew. Apparently we were eating at All American Pancake … in formal wear. We were going to look like two kids on prom night. My belly didn’t care though – catching even the slightest whiff of pancake batter and I was sold.
“This place smells amazing,” I said as Dane helped me out of the car – such a gentleman. Like he first had at the music hall, he offered me his arm. Taking it, he led me through the door and into breakfast food paradise, all the while dressed like we were headed for the Oscars.
“What can I getcha?” our waitress, Maggie, according to her badge, asked, completely un-phased by our finery.
Dane raised his eyebrows at me, clearly indicating for me to order first. I let my eyes quickly scan back over the menu before looking up and smiling.
“I’ll have two eggs over hard, an English muffin, toasted – no butter – an order of Canadia
n bacon, and a half stack of pancakes,” I told her, grinning. Most girls would feel self-conscious with a mile-long order, especially with a guy they may like, but not me. I was hungry and any man who ever tried to quash my food choices in favor of a preconceived image wasn’t a keeper in my book. “Oh! I’d also like a glass of orange juice and some coffee, cream, sugar, and water on the side, please.”
Dane looked surprised, but pleased, the side of his lips turning up to reveal his dimple. His eyes were sparkling as he turned his attention to the waitress.
“I’ll have the same,” he told her, making me smile.
“Hungry, Mr. Ranucci?” I teased him as I took the restaurant in. I was amazed at how homey it felt. The colors in the place were bright, accented by the fluorescent lights. Primary-colored booths, black-and-white checkered tile, and a stainless steel bar area – complete with stools – gave the place an awesomely fifties-style vibe. The waitresses wore blue and red-old fashioned uniforms, in lieu of poodle skirts, and there was no record playing jukebox, for which I was grateful. Too much of a good thing goes bad fast. The best part of the place, in my opinion, wasn’t the framed and autographed images on the wall, or the décor, though both were great touches. No, to me, it was the smell; the bacon grease and pancake batter was ridiculous. Imagine what your kitchen would smell like while cooking all your favorite breakfast foods, compacted in a smaller space, and you’d almost be close. My food couldn’t get there fast enough.
“Now that you ask, I’m starving, Miss Macek.”
The way my name rolled off his tongue was distracting and I fidgeted. Luckily I was saved from having to say anything in return by our drinks being placed in front of us. Maggie proceeded to pour our coffees from a ceramic carafe and placed a small glass of milk, along with an assortment of flavored creamers, between us.
“Sugar is just there,” she said, pointing to a caddy on the table. “Your food should be up shortly.”