I haven’t seen Thomas in over a month. We have nothing between us but a dramatic lie, a dizzying kiss, and a DNA test. Now we have this weird trip thing. I have some questions about that.
The next day, he met me at the airport. I arrived in the main terminal to find him propped casually against a column. He wore a dark suit that highlighted his light brown hair. As I came closer, I noticed that his olive green tie made his eyes lean more toward green than brown. It was still a muddy color, but I found I liked that after staring so often at Dylan’s unusual teal.
I took a moment to soak up his masculine attractiveness. He let me. Maybe he was taking a moment to soak up my beauty. I had taken a lot of time with my appearance today, and it was good to be appreciated.
At last he smiled and held out his hands to me. “Lacey. You’re stunning, as always.”
I slipped my hands into his. He lifted each to his lips and kissed it. Then he pulled me closer and lightly kissed my cheek. Our bodies didn’t touch, but I felt his nearness, and his scent—sandalwood and mint—flooded my senses.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to call.”
I blushed a little. “I wasn’t sure if I should. I wasn’t exactly nice to you.”
He smiled. “You weren’t mean. You panicked. I admire your courage.”
Courage. Except for my parents, nobody had ever indicated I had any. I liked Thomas even more. Somehow he could see inside me.
“Thanks.” I wanted to compliment him back, tell him I admired something about him, but I couldn’t. I’d identified things about him I liked, but I hadn’t idealized anything about him. “So, where are you taking me?”
His grin turned cocky, which emphasized his goatee in a very sexy way. “Dinner and a show.” He held his hands out for my bag. “Our plane will be boarding soon. Let’s get you checked in.”
“Hold on,” I said, my better sense finally making an appearance. “Thomas, this is all a little weird. You had a hotel already booked?” Was I a replacement date?
He laughed, but it was the ironic kind. “My buddy told me any woman worth my time would question the convenience of having a hotel, dinner reservations, and tickets to a Broadway show in hand the moment she sent me a text. I was wondering when you’d ask.”
Holy shit. Apparently, I should’ve asked last night. I wonder if he’d doubted my sanity. Being tired, distraught, and furious worked as a convenient excuse, though now I wondered what the hell I’d been thinking. “I have asked, and I’m waiting on your answer.”
“Well, the simple answer is: I didn’t. The tickets and hotel room belonged to my mom, as did the dinner reservation, though that was always under my name. I had dinner with my mom last night. She told me she’s divorcing my stepfather. She kicked him out yesterday, and she has no interest in seeing the show. She offered the tickets to me. I wasn’t going to take them, but when I got your text, I figured it was fate.”
I felt bad for his mother.
He stroked his goatee with a charming boyishness. “It’s not the romantic impression I wanted to give, but it’s the truth. And I did jump the gun a bit with my invitation. I called her to see if she’d given them away, and she didn’t return my call until this morning. I did have a contingency plan, but it wasn’t nearly as cool. First dates should be memorable, Lacey. I’m aiming to sweep you off your feet.”
I stood silently for a moment while his story penetrated my brain. Usually silence weighs heavy on liars. Trust me on that. Unless they’re fully committed to the lie, they get fidgety and try to amend their tale. Thomas didn’t.
“Is your mother okay?”
He tilted his head, a brief frown on his face. Then he realized what I was asking. “Oh, yeah. This is her seventh divorce. They were together for about a year. She had a prenup, so she was protected.”
Several hours and a plane ride later, we stood outside a restaurant set in an older building. It had white stone and fancy topiaries by the entrance. Thomas had rented a limousine, which picked us up from the airport and took us to the hotel. I’d changed into my dress, which from the way Thomas’s jaw dropped, he admired. The bodice looked like someone had layered me in wide, white ribbons of satin. The skirt fell out from there, coming to the middle of my calves. It looked like a mess on the hanger, but it transformed into something special once I put it on. I could say it transformed me, but I’m already special. :)
I took my turn admiring the way he looked in a tuxedo. Yep, there’d been a lot of admiring going on. Then the driver transported us to this fancy place. Large letters above the door proclaimed “Daniel” in elegant script. In my entire life, I had never been anywhere this nice.
A doorman ushered us in, and the foyer screamed with class. From the large swirls on the carpet to the crystal chandeliers in the dining room, it looked like it was straight from a forties black-and-white film. I felt a little like Audrey Hepburn.
My dress fit in with the atmosphere, though I didn’t have expensive jewelry or a pedigree to show off. I sort of felt like it was required at this place.
Thomas, it seemed, did. The maître d’, a silver-haired man as elegant as his surroundings, smiled and nodded. “Mr. Pritchett. Welcome to Daniel. How was your flight?”
Thomas returned the man’s greeting. “It was great. I had company this time. Ian Wexler, this is Lacey Hallem.”
Ian turned his warm smile on me. “Ms. Hallem.” He held out his hand. I gave him mine, and he bowed over it. Thank goodness he didn’t kiss it. I don’t have a thing about being touched, but I still don’t like strangers getting familiar with me. Manners and chivalry be damned. Being a woman doesn’t mean I give automatic consent to being pawed.
“Your table is ready. This is Julie.” A petite brunette appeared at his side. Her serving uniform consisted of freshly pressed black slacks and a feminine, white button-down shirt. He put his hand on her shoulder. “She will show you to your seats.”
She welcomed us with a pretty smile. “Mr. Pritchett, Ms. Hallem, please follow me.”
As we entered the main dining room, I was blown away by the poshness of it all. More chandeliers hung from the ceiling, though the lighting was subdued. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and though I’d spent good money, my entire outfit probably cost as much as the toe of one shoe in this place.
Julie assured us she’d be back in a moment with the sommelier. I stared at her retreating back for a moment before I turned to Thomas.
“So…this is your favorite restaurant?”
He grinned. “One of them. I’m also trying really hard to impress you.”
I was impressed, but not by the restaurant. I was impressed that he thought enough of me to believe that going all out was the only thing that would work. He’d even had a backup plan. I returned his grin. “Roses would have done the trick.”
He waved his hand at me. “Too mundane. I’m sure you’ve had roses from dozens of men.”
I have received flowers from several of the people I’ve dated, but most of my bouquets have come from one source. “My parents send me roses every Valentine’s Day.”
“See? It’s no longer a romantic gesture.”
Now that I thought about it, I guess I agreed. Even when my exes had come bearing flowers, I hadn’t been dazzled—mostly because the flowers had come with an apology of some sort: Sorry I canceled our date to spend the night with my wife. Sorry I didn’t show up for lunch.
My grin turned to a genuine smile. I’m finally with a man who isn’t otherwise involved. Even Dylan still belongs to his deceased wife. I really need to stop thinking of him. Thomas dropped everything to spend the weekend with me. I never dreamed a man would do that, not for me.
“This is really going to make the second date difficult.” I gave him the full flirt—hair twirling and everything.
“How do you figure?”
“How do you top this?”
Julie returned with the sommelier, and we paused our bantering to choose a wine. I didn’t know muc
h about that. Though I’ve been on several wine tours, I’ve only learned that too much wine gives me a headache. Thomas chose for us.
I sipped his selection. It was fruity and a little dry.
He leaned closer. Our table had plush benches arranged in an L-shape. A throw pillow separated us, but we were still very close together. “I get the sense you’re the kind of woman who isn’t truly impressed by anything but the quality of a man’s character.”
Considering I’d screamed an accusation at him and later confessed to being a compulsive liar, I’m not sure where he was getting his information. I had to challenge his flattering assumption. “Then why all the bells and whistles on the first date?”
He considered this for a few heartbeats, studying my face as he did so. “You met me under peculiar circumstances. I want you to know who I really am.”
I looked around at the fine dining room. Our table had higher quality linens and flatware than I ever hoped to own. If this was him, what did he think he had in common with me? I confess to being more than a little baffled.
“You’re a fancy restaurant with high-end fixtures?” That came out cold, and I hadn’t intended to be bitchy. Luckily, Thomas didn’t seem affected.
“Sometimes.” He looked at me, his gaze searching my eyes. “Maybe more often than I’d like.”
I heard the longing in his voice, a desire for more than material goods, and I responded. “I’m not from around here.” I’m solidly middle-class. Or I aspire to be.
A slow grin spread across his face, lifting one side of his mouth and then the other. The net effect was a charmingly crooked smile. “That’s why I like you.”
“I probably won’t fit in with your friends and family.” Maybe he just wants me for sex? I could be making a huge leap here.
His grin didn’t waver. “You don’t know that. I think they’ll love you.”
I looked down at my place setting. “I don’t even know which forks or spoons to use for what.” Though at least I know I’m supposed to use them for different things. One is for salad, another for tea or coffee. If they were in my kitchen, they’d all be jumbled in a drawer. And I’d have six or twelve of each.
He put his hand on the table, palm up, silently asking for mine. I studied his fingers. They were long and trim, shaped quite well. I’m not sure why I notice these kinds of details. Before too long, I gave him my hand. I thought he would make some kind of move, but he only held it in his.
“Lacey, no more putting yourself down. I know who you are. You blew me away the first moment I saw you, and every minute I spend with you only makes me like you more. I didn’t ask you out because I thought you could differentiate silverware. I can teach you those things, if you want. I asked you out because I like you.”
That made me feel a little better, but I couldn’t stop wondering what he’d tell people when they asked how we met.
The rest of the night flew by. I ate turbot, which was a word I’d only heard on television. It turned out to be fish, and the chef at Daniel was incredible, so it was tasty fish. I was able to cut it into eighteen pieces. After dinner, Thomas took me to see a play I’d heard about but never thought I’d actually see. He held my hand through most of the performance. All in all, it was a wonderful evening.
Standing at the door of the suite, waiting for him to unlock it with the keycard, I decided tonight would have an exceptionally good ending. It had been two years since the last time I was with a man. My imaginary adventures with Davey, Simon, and Jared were wonderful, but nothing could substitute for the feel of skin sliding against mine and the scent of a real, live man.
“I had a great time with you tonight.” Thomas held the door open for me.
For a second, I thought he might not follow me inside, but it was a two-bedroom suite, and we’d already claimed our separate spaces. I debated whether I wanted to sleep with him in my room or his. Did I want to stick around afterward, or did I want to slink away to sleep alone?
These are questions I rarely consider. My other boyfriends hadn’t been able to stay with me most nights. Would waking up naked next to a man who’d rocked my world make me fall in love? I truly didn’t know.
I offered a cheeky grin as I waited for him inside the living room/kitchenette area of the suite. “Yeah. It wasn’t bad.”
He secured the locks and caught my flirtatious tone. “Not bad?”
I slid my arms around his neck. “I can’t give it a firm score without a goodnight kiss.”
He threw his keycard on a nearby table and parked his hands on my waist. “I’ve been looking forward to this since the last time you kissed me.”
“I’ll try not to make this one so sisterly.”
His lips were hot and firm. We massaged and tasted, dancing around each other’s tongues. He was a feast for my senses—his smell, the tickle of his goatee against my face, and the feel of his strong body pressed against mine. I wound my fingers through his hair, searching for a handhold that wasn’t there.
I must have made a desperate mewling sound, and I’ll attribute the manly groan to him. He picked me up, crushing me to him, and carried me to the sofa. I wasn’t the most compliant load. I bit his lower lip and tried to wrap my body around his. There was no sense preserving modesty when we’d both soon be naked.
He tried to put me down gently, but I tugged at him too hard, and he tumbled down on top of me.
I held him close as he tried to adjust his weight so he wasn’t squashing me. I wanted him to squash me—I wanted confirmation that he could engulf me. I let him rearrange our limbs before I demanded his lips back.
I snatched and ripped at his clothes until his jacket was gone and his tie was loose. I caressed his thighs and hips with my legs as best I could. The back of the sofa and the tightness of my dress inhibited my range. He explored my neck and the exposed parts of my upper chest with his lips. I loved the feel of his facial hair scratching and tickling my skin. I wanted to know if it would feel as good between my thighs. Looking around with bleary eyes, I decided we needed more space.
Frantically, I ran my hands over his shirt, soaking up the heat that penetrated the fabric. “Thomas, let’s go to the bedroom.” I didn’t specify which one. At this point, I didn’t care. “I think we need more room.”
He stopped what he was doing and stared down at me. Taking a deep, ragged breath, he propped his weight up on one hand. “No.”
“No?” Yep, I echoed him like a parrot. No man had ever turned me down before.
He knelt and pulled me up with him. Now I sat next to him on the sofa instead of being under him in bed. He threaded his fingers through mine, just as he had at the play. “No. You’re sexy and charming, and I click with you in a way I haven’t clicked with anybody in a long time. I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor it.”
I wanted to savor it too. In the bedroom. All night long, if he was up for it.
“I also don’t want you to think I went through all this trouble just to get you into bed. I did it because this was the first date I fantasized about having with you, something amazing that would make you want to spend more time with me.”
If I offered to be his dream come true in more ways than that, would it sound too much like a porno line? I thought about arguing for exactly one half of a second. Then I snuggled my head onto his shoulder. I could have seduced him, but I guess the ease with which I gave in showed I wasn’t as gung-ho to sleep with him as I’d thought.
Still, I had to push the issue. “You didn’t fantasize about sleeping with me?”
He shook his head. “I’ve planned it, but I haven’t fantasized about it.”
I truly did not see the distinction. Maybe he thought the latter was a girl thing. “You planned it? For when?”
“I live in Connecticut, and you’re in Michigan. We’re not exclusive; we’re just getting to know one another. I don’t know your favorite color or what kind of music you like. I was thinking the fifth date.”
Assigning a number was
a mistake. My OCD kicked in, and I corrected him. “The sixth.” It was not a negotiation.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll seduce you on the sixth date. Things between us will be serious by then.”
I hope I can hold out that long.
Chapter Eleven
THOMAS DIDN’T FLY BACK WITH ME. We went to the airport together and boarded separate planes. After we decided not to have sex until the sixth date, we’d spent another hour engaging in conversation punctuated by bouts of heavy petting. Not only was it more action than I’d seen in the past six months, it was damn good action. I’d truly believed my crush on Dylan—and my obsession with the breadcrumbs of affection he dropped every now and again—had ruined me for other men. But being with Thomas proved I was alive and vital, and an attractive man wanted to be with me. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. My vibrator boyfriends could only keep me occupied for so long.
Exhaustion had eventually driven us to our separate bedrooms, and we’d slept until the front desk called to wake us at the appointed time. Thomas had thought of everything.
Back home, I met Luma for an early dinner. I’d skipped lunch, so I was famished. Between bites, I told her about my extraordinary date. It was no surprise she didn’t buy it.
“So you’ve suddenly decided to give up on Dylan, and this new guy flies you to New York for his version of dinner and a show?” She regarded me with open and obvious disbelief. The asparagus tip she’d speared slid from her fork and dropped onto her plate. She didn’t go after it.
“Yes.”
“Are you lying?”
I shook my head. “I know. It sounds like something fantastic I’d make up, but I didn’t. It happened.”
“Is he married?”
Again I gave her a negative answer. “And he knows I lie.”
She stared at me with a calculating look. I’ve never told any man I dated about that part of my compulsion, and lies have derailed all of my relationships.
“Did you sleep with him?”
Not for lack of trying. “No. We’re waiting until the sixth date.”
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