by J. A. Coffey
"Men are never happy," she groaned, but he heard the smile in her voice. "You're supposed to be grateful I've called. At least, that's the picture Jeremy painted."
He laughed. "Doll, I'm glad you called. I'm at Ollie's.... are you sitting down?"
She paused. "I am now."
"I've just moved in."
"Hooray! Oh, wait, now I'm standing. Are you, really? Good for you."
Praise felt really good. He liked the sudden contrast in his personal life. "How have you been?"
"I...actually wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. My place."
She seemed nervous, so he thought to break the ice. "Should...I bring a fire extinguisher?"
"Mm. Maybe."
"What's the occasion?"
She laughed, and he melted at the sound of her joy. All things good lived in her laugh, rejoiced in her happiness. "Do I need an occasion to make a meal for two?"
His voice dropped low. "Will there be candles?"
"Most definitely."
Lower, "Champagne?"
"But of course."
He paused, voice as seductive as he could make it. "You in a negligee?"
He swore he could hear her blush. "If I don't chicken out."
He flew to the door. "I'll be right over."
She laughed, but he detected nervousness in it. "Really, Darius, I still have to get the groceries."
He forced out a playfully defeated breath. "Fine. Make a man wait."
"And wait, and wait."
"What time?" He looked for the clock, but both the Regulator and the grandfather clocks had been covered. He walked over to the eight foot tall mahogany creation and tugged off the sheet. It was frozen at 7:30. He looked at his phone. Three p.m.
"Seven?"
"How about six-thirty? I make a meal salad."
He heard her thoughts churning. "If I can get out early... I may be home by six-thirty. Otherwise, I'd hate to make you wait."
He already consigned himself to waiting- and waiting- so he said, "What if I pick you up at work? We'll get the groceries together and head to your fine dining establishment."
She paused. "Kind of domestic for a date, isn't it?"
Right then he wondered if he had pushed too hard. It wasn't even the thought of her in a negligee- that was going to be difficult to forget- but merely how happy and relaxed he felt in her presence that made him eager to see her again. He back-pedalled a bit to ease her concerns. "Not everything has to be a date, Jess. We can just spend time together. Until the next date, of course. Which there will be, I promise."
He listened to the pause. "Hm. Paranoia isn't your best color. But if you insist, I warn you, I'm a power shopper. Twenty minutes, tops. Think you can keep up?"
He adopted a cocky tone. "Baby, not a woman on this planet I can't keep up with."
"Humph," she scoffed. "We'll see. Aim for five-thirty."
"I'll be there."
*****
Fifteen minutes before he was due to arrive, Darius pulled up in front of Phoenix Antiques. A handful of cars dotted the parking lot, and a van at the front door had three men loading a dark oak cabinet looking to be from the 1700s, one man he recognized as being Arthur.
He realized he had not actually perused her store, and smiled at the opportunity. One man lost his grip on the cabinet while loading it, and Darius leapt and caught it, helping the men slide it onto the inverted rug inside the van. It was a spectacular piece, hand carved with images of ancient Greek gods. The legs were finely turned, and the hardware appeared to be hammered iron. He looked at the oldest of the three men and jabbed a thumb inside the van. "Mind if I...?"
The man, in his fifties, seemed inordinately pleased and indicated his okay with an arm sweep. Darius hopped in and traced a carving with his fingertip. "Spoon carved here, knife here," he showed the customer the differences. The noses on all the gods were still intact, which he also pointed out. A large crack from the wood naturally splitting had marred one of the two cabinet doors, but that only added to its character.
He leaned back and studied it with awe. "I've never seen the likes of this." He faced the man. "This is a fantastic piece. Hang on to it."
The man smiled and cocked a finger at the younger man. "It's a wedding gift for my son." His son nodded once.
Darius jumped down from the van and went inside with Arthur, finding Jess in the back with a customer. He eased off to the side so as not to interfere.
Her store had been arranged so each set of furniture resembled a room, with six-square-foot pockets of them patterned throughout the showroom. A bedroom set from France on a green and blue Persian rug hunkered next to a Gothic dining room set. Two enormous hutches towering eight feet tall demarked their boundaries. A Victorian living room set complete with settee and fainting couch in gold damask caught his attention, and he reclined onto the couch to test it.
Duncan came up. "Need a TV?"
Darius grinned at him and propped his feet up, lacing his fingers behind his head to fully enjoy the experience. "No TVs in those days. Just good conversation."
"With me?" Duncan scoffed and waved him away. "I'm not fooled."
Yeah, he was a character. He could see how this man would enliven anyone's day, with his ease and charm. He was probably a fantastic salesperson for that same reason. "Shame on me."
Duncan scanned the store and told Darius, "Miss Swan is in the midst of a sale, but I can let her know you're here."
"No, don't. I don't want to rush her. I'm early, so I thought I'd browse." He grinned up at Duncan to lighten his words. "In case I have to buy all new furniture, you know."
He seemed thoughtful when he nodded. "Are you really the man she thinks you are?"
That caught Darius by surprise. He never figured her staff would champion her, but liked their devotion. It spoke volumes about her. "I certainly hope so." He regarded Duncan with a matching gaze. "Is she the woman I think she is?"
Duncan cracked a grin. "And then some. Firecracker when she wants to be. Best friend when she's not trying."
Darius slipped further into the couch, resting his hands on his chest. He noticed Duncan still soared over him, a watchful hawk. "I don't want to hurt her, Duncan. Not in the least."
Wry mirth filled Duncan's eyes. "That's good, because I don't think I'd be able to throw you too far in her defense."
Darius laughed, offered Duncan his hand, and the older man helped haul him to his feet. Darius clapped him on the shoulder when he stood. "You're a good man, Duncan." He grinned and continued exploring the store.
He could tell the exact moment Jess became aware of him, for her smooth speech to a customer delineating the differences between antiques and vintage pieces suddenly became pocked with stammers, stutters and incomplete thoughts.
He offered an apologetic grin and ducked to the back of the store. He would check out that Chinese dining room table with carved griffins attached to the pedestal base when she was done. Further exploration led him to a black lacquered chair with Chinese dragons for arms, and he marveled at its intricacy. And the price. And that it was already sold.
Each turn brought him further into history, each glance raised her in his esteem. Whenever possible, she had written the known history of the piece on a blank card and tied it there for all to see. No aspect of her attention had been overlooked or glossed over. This was a businesswoman who took her passion seriously.
He hoped to loosen another version of her passion tonight.
When five-thirty rolled around, prior to closing up shop, he noted brooms being pushed and vacuums being run and windows getting washed down. Her team moved efficiently through each maneuver without instruction.
Jess bade her staff goodbye and joined him at the storefront display window, where he remained admiring an ornate humidor.
She followed his glance and quipped, "You smoke?"
"Never. You?"
"Never."
He grinned, even happier now that she was here. "But it doesn't mean th
at I can't admire a fine smoking stand when I see one. You even polished the copper lining." He closed the cupboard door and dropped the tiny latch in place, smiling up at her attention to detail.
She smirked. "Dirt don't sell." She said it in such a way that he figured it was her motivational cleaning speech to her staff.
She looked lovely, if frazzled by his early arrival, and he raised her fingers to his lips to kiss. He held her eyes, kept her fingers there much longer than necessary, and smiled with full male pride when he watched her cheeks turn pink.
He truly hoped she was the woman he thought she was.
And if so, God help him, for this would not be easy.
Jess took power shopping to a level he'd never seen. She'd swoop down on produce like a hawk on prey, bagging it as she slalomed up and down aisles. When she sent him for a specific item, she had returned with an armful more groceries before he found his one on the shelf, at which point she swooped in on that item as well.
Defeated, he felt the only way to redeem himself was to pay.
Palm forward, Jess said, "Out of the question. You are my dinner guest. My treat."
As she swiped her card through the debit machine, Darius couldn't help but thank her in his fashion. He sidled up behind her, cradled her hips and planted a kiss on the back of her head.
He felt her jump, and made a mental note to tease her about PDA's. Especially after their zoo date. He noticed her blushing and wondered again about the dichotomy that was Jess.
She talked the talk, but why so nervous over walking the walk?
Chapter Twenty-One
Darius wasted no time bringing the sacks into the kitchen and arranging them on the counter. "Salad bowl?" he asked, and Jess had a moment of panic until she remembered which cupboard she kept it in. She handed it to him without dropping it, and he smiled and buzzed her lips, then gathered up the lettuces and carrots and headed to the sink.
She watched him methodically wash and tear the leaves, then scrub the carrots clean. He found her knife stand and cutting board and set to work with a merry whistle.
Leaving her free to tend the steaks.
He rummaged into her fridge, produced a block of cheddar cheese and held it up to her with brows raised. "In the salad?"
She grinned. "Sure."
He winked and went back to chopping, his motions smooth and controlled and completely mesmerizing.
She still felt like a spaz.
But she pounded the meat and sprinkled the tenderizer and heated the oven without too much ado, then set to blanching the vegetables.
She copped out on making homemade dessert in favor of boxed brownies. Her rationale was that if Darius stayed, she would probably want chocolate. If tonight was botched, she would definitely want chocolate. She popped them into the oven after she removed the steaks and veggies. Darius helped her carry everything into the dining room.
The wall art in the dining room was really a trivet collection, and Jess grabbed a bunch of them down and placed them on the table.
"Nice touch. I never would have thought of that."
Jess grinned at the compliment. "Always there when you need them."
"So," he winked and placed the dishes on their stands, "trivets are your friends?"
She laughed and placed her serving ware on the table. "Anything that protects the finish is my friend. That includes orange oil and Murphy soap." She smiled up at him, and then felt herself quiver. "You realize I've managed to make this entire not-so-gourmet meal without ruining, burning, or dehydrating one single item, right? You did notice that?"
Darius pulled out her chair and waited for her. "Truly, I'm not so intimidating, Jess." He pushed her in and draped the linen napkin across her lap. "You, on the other hand, can make a man's blood run cold."
Her mouth was still open when he took his place across from her. "Really. I'm like a gargoyle? Or Medusa?" She made her fingers waggle like snakes in her hair.
He smiled warmly at her, and he quietly said, "Or maybe it's because you're the first woman who's mattered."
Yup, he was certainly giving her a case of the nerves. At least when Joe had done it, it was because she had sensed she was no more than a conquest to him, another notch on his bedpost. But with Darius, all the rules were different. He looked at her as if she were heavenly, his own personal salvation. He spoke truths that seemed to rattle him as much as her.
He made her want to be reckless.
She reached for the steaks to dole them out and burned her fingers on the rolled edge of the baking pan.
Darius missed no opportunity to tease. "I thought we brought the potholders here for that very reason."
A put-upon sigh was the best she could muster. "Really? You sure you don't want to rethink that intimidation line?"
He considered her while he handed her his plate. "Do I make you that nervous, Jess?"
She carefully offered him a steak, then drizzled some of her special sauce over it. She then focused on spooning out the vegetables, feeling inordinately pleased that nothing dropped to the tablecloth...for a change. She licked her lips as she formulated her thoughts. "I'm just very...aware of you, I guess. It's a new feeling for me."
He set down his plate and leaned back in his chair, holding her eyes and making her feel heated. Not pursued or hunted, but wanted and craved. "That's a very good way to put it, Jess. I feel very aware of you, too." He picked up his knife and sawed into the steak. "Sometimes to the exclusion of all other rational thoughts."
She watched him chew, liking how his lips and jaws moved. There was nothing about this man she didn't admire. "Oh?"
He seemed a little embarrassed when he looked up. "Let's not make me elaborate, shall we?"
"I would hate to embarrass my guest."
He grinned and pointed his fork at the steak. "This is good. Love the sauce."
She grinned at him and changed the subject, craving to know more of this man. "What's it like when you spar?"
Sparkles lit his eyes, and she knew he loved his competitions. "Exhilarating. There is nothing like having only a millisecond to decide how to act, how to respond to a threat, whatever that may be. Sometimes they'll do Randori, which is usually three to one. I love those."
"Three to one?" She gave him a quizzical brow. "Is this a sex thing?"
He laughed, clearly amused, and she felt herself blush that again she acted out of character with this man. The Jess she knew and loved for the last twenty-six years would not be mentioning sex to a man she hardly knew.
Or any man, for that matter.
But those sparkles filled his eyes again, making him look like starlight. "Don't go changing the subject on me twice," he admonished with a smile. "Randori makes you think and think fast. Your opponents have only one job, and that's to take you down. And heaven forbid they get you down. You'll be buried. So the trick is to stay up and knock them down like dominoes."
She felt herself melting into her palms as she studied him, her propped elbows keeping her mouth closed so she didn't drool into her meal. "And do you? Knock them down?"
"With panache." He bit into his meat and grinned. "My turn." He took a moment to chew, thinking about his words. "To what or whom are you the most grateful?"
"Ooh," she relinquished her mooning position and leaned back, knowing immediately her answer. "That would be you, Mr. Covington."
He froze with his fork to his mouth and stared at her as if she were joking. "Really."
"Really. My turn. If you knew you had only-"
"Wait a minute," he interrupted, and she grinned, knowing she got him. "Really?" His eyes narrowed, and he sort of smiled.
He looked so adorable that Jess had to lean closer. "If you're surprised, Darius, you haven't been paying attention."
"Touché." He saluted her with his fork and waved for her to continue.
He seemed mollified and pleased by her comment, and she liked that it was the truth and not some cutesy BS she fed him. "If you knew you had only one day left t
o live, how would you spend it?"
Oh, his eyes simply smoldered as he regarded her, making her toes curl as she held his gaze. "Well, Jess, especially after that last comment, you shouldn't be surprised when I say I would spend it with you."
Just when she thought dinner couldn't get any better, Darius helped her clear the table while she pulled the brownies out of the oven. The scent of chocolate hung thick in the air, making her mouth water.
Something had to slake her appetite, and soon. She had a suspicious feeling, though, that chocolate would be no balm for what ailed her this day.
As the last dish made its way to the dishwasher and the last Tupperware found fridge space, Jess felt another case of nerves. A board game would give them more time to talk, delaying the inevitable. A movie would make her want to cuddle, hastening that agonizingly sweet chance to be in Darius' arms.
He spun her around, backed her up to the counter and moved in for a long, languorous kiss. When he pulled back, he stroked her cheek. "Thank you for dinner."
She smiled, feeling that familiar earthquake ripple her stomach. When he kissed her again, she felt sure it would register on the Richter scale. Maybe an eight.
He nuzzled her neck, stoking her ear as he angled her jaw to suckle her skin.
It was no use. Once the quake hit, she couldn't support herself. All limbs felt heavy as his lips nibbled her ear lobe. She felt him respond by wrapping one arm around her back and the other into her hair as he crushed her to his chest. She felt herself take a deep breath or two and realized with horror that she had started panting.
"So...about that negligee...." Darius scooped her up as she squeaked, "Upstairs."
Jess felt completely natural in his arms as he cradled her close, and he followed her directions to the stairs and her room. Inside, he found a beautiful bedroom furnished in country chick, with lilac walls and white Depression era dressers artfully draped in silken scarves. Her eyes never left his as he laid her down upon her bed. Her gaze, so wide and trusting, bored into his. For ten years he had imagined this moment, never thought it would ever come to fruition, but here she was.