by C. C. Wood
His words shocked me. “What?”
My dad sighed. “Honey, you’ve been on your own for a long time. I’m your father, which means I worry. It also means I wonder about when you and Tessa are going to settle down. I’m not going to live forever and I want to know that you two are happy.”
“Dad, I don’t need a man to be happy,” I stated, irritation rising inside me. I tried to tamp it down, but I knew it slipped out.
“I know you don’t, Tanya,” he replied. “But you’re not happy right now either. That’s all I want. Your happiness. If you find it with a man or a woman or even alone, I don’t give a damn. Tonight, for the first time in years, you walked into this house and you looked…luminous. Vital. That’s what I want for you.”
My throat grew tight at his words. “I understand.” Without thinking, I reached out and took his hand. “I want that for you too, you know.”
This time his smile wasn’t warm, it was sad. “Had that, honey. When you have something that special, well, it’s hard to let go.”
I nodded, wondering if that was why my father hadn’t met anyone since my mother died. Twenty-three years after her death and he was still single. Though I knew he’d probably dated during that time, he never brought a woman home or introduced us to any of his girlfriends.
“Now, I know you said it’s early days, but when the time is right, I’d like to meet him.”
“I don’t think we’ll be doing meet the parents anytime soon, Dad. We just started seeing each other this week,” I replied, the mental image of introducing Jordan to my father filling me with equal parts anxiety and longing.
“Just telling you what I would like, Tanya.”
“I’ll let you know when we get there.”
We went back to eating in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. After dinner, I washed the dishes while Dad put away the leftovers. We spent a little time in the living room, watching TV and chatting before I gathered my things to head home.
“Same time next week?” he asked.
“I should be free. I’ll text you on Wednesday if something comes up.”
“Let’s go to that Greek place you’re always raving about next week. What’s it called? Kosta’s?”
“Sounds great, Dad.”
He insisted on walking me out to my car and hugged me tightly. “Love my girl,” he murmured.
“Your girl loves you too,” I replied, squeezing him. Since my mother died, any time that one of his daughters left the house, those were his parting words. Though he’d never talk about it, I knew why.
Mom died in a car accident, her car broadsided when a man ran a red light. We understood that anything could happen to any one of us at any time. He wanted our last words to one another to be of love. Just in case the worst happened.
I climbed into my car and headed for home. As I drove, I thought about my conversation with Dad regarding Jordan. I wondered what Jordan would have to say if I told him I wanted to introduce him to my family.
I grinned. Jordan was unpredictable. His response could range from anything between politely concealed horror to wry eagerness. He found amusement in the strangest situations.
I had been home for a bit and I was getting ready for bed when my cell phone rang.
As if I’d conjured him up with my thoughts, it was Jordan.
“Hey, there,” I answered, shoving the phone between my ear and shoulder so I could shimmy into my pajama pants.
“Hey, yourself,” he replied.
I suppressed the shiver that wanted to race through me at the sound of his deep, accented voice. The man could make a mint narrating audio books. His voice was that amazing.
“How was your dinner with your father?” he asked.
“Delicious.”
“Really? Where did you dine?”
I smirked at his formal language. I didn’t know anyone else who spoke quite the way he did. “Dad cooked. He made my favorite dinner. Well, my favorite of his limited repertoire.”
“And what was that?” Jordan asked when I trailed off.
“Fettuccine Alfredo. He grills the chicken and adds just the right amount of cheese and garlic to the sauce. It’s got close to half a million calories per plate but I love it. Actually, that’s probably why I love it.”
Jordan chuckled in my ear and I wandered over to my bed, pulling the blankets back.
“What did you do tonight?” I asked him as I settled back against the padded headboard on my bed.
“Well, I ate dinner, but nothing so appetizing as pasta. I worked for a while and now I’m lying in bed, talking to you.”
“What a coincidence. I’m lying in bed and talking to you as well,” I declared.
He laughed again, the warm, velvety sound sweeping over me with the effectiveness of a physical caress. “I wonder what else we could do together tonight.”
“That sounds like an interesting proposition,” I replied, settling deeper into the bed.
In the end, I discovered something new about Jordan. With his deliciously dirty mind and dark, decadent voice, he could make me come just as quickly over the phone as he could when he was in bed with me.
After we hung up, my body was limp and sated, and I had a smile on my face.
Chapter Nine
After our steamy conversation on Thursday, I assumed that Jordan would stay over after our date Friday night. In fact, I was looking forward to it with enthusiasm.
Instead, he kissed me stupid on my doorstep, practically shoved me inside the house, and left.
He was driving me crazy yet again and he seemed completely oblivious. Which couldn’t be true. Jordan Hawke never made a move without a plan. He was a master strategist and incredibly observant—a lethal combination.
This was why I was texting my friends at ten on a Friday night. While I was reasonably intelligent, I could not understand what Jordan was trying to accomplish other than inducing insanity via sexual frustration. Though I was the oldest of the group, I probably had the least experience with relationships. I hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in years. I needed advice and another point of view.
I messaged them all at once. I figured they’d forgive me for the group text if I offered to buy them mimosas the next morning.
I was right.
They agreed to meet me for brunch the following morning. Maybe they could give me the insight I seemed to lack when dealing with Jordan Hawke.
Or maybe I was overanalyzing all of our interactions and they would tell me to quit being so neurotic.
Either way, any meal that included my friends and wine was guaranteed to be an entertaining one.
Chelsea leaned on my doorbell at nine forty-five. She’d offered to pick me up during our text exchange last night. Something about how I needed to have a couple Bloody Marys and let it all hang out.
I hurried out of the kitchen to the door, not even taking the time to put down my coffee cup. Opening the door, I asked, “What bee flew up in your bonnet this morning?”
Tossing her strawberry blonde curls, she came inside. “Only for you and your first ever love life crisis would I be out of bed this early on a Saturday.”
I shut the door and turned to find her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug. “Make yourself at home,” I stated, walking over to the counter and holding out my cup for a refresh. “And what do you mean out of bed this early? You told me you wake up at six-thirty every morning.”
Chelsea shot me a level look. “I may be awake, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to lie in bed until noon.”
I laughed because I could see Chelsea doing that. During the week, she seemed to go non-stop. Even on the weekends, she stayed busy, but she never liked to meet before noon. Now I knew why.
“Well thank you for your noble sacrifice,” I teased her, sipping my coffee. Glancing at the clock, I set my mug to the side. “We’d better go or we’ll be late. Let me go grab my shoes and I’ll be ready to leave.”
She nodded and continued drinking coff
ee. When I came back from my bedroom a few minutes later, I found Chelsea rinsing our cups and putting them in the dishwasher.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for cleaning up.”
“Just making myself at home.”
We chatted about our week as Chelsea drove to the restaurant. Her account of an encounter with one of Chris’ clients, Landen Weber, was hilarious. Apparently, the man lacked in social skills and Chelsea lacked the ability to put up with it. The fact that Chris merely shrugged when Landen complained said it all. He wasn’t going to risk losing a good assistant for Landen, especially since he was doing him a favor and waiving his usual consulting fee.
Chris had never kept an assistant longer than a few months before Lucy, who’d managed to put up with him for years before she quit. Now he and Lucy were engaged and he’d hired Chelsea on Lucy’s recommendation. Though she gave him hell, Chris kept Chelsea on because she was damn good at her job. I was pretty sure he also found her hilarious, even if he didn’t admit it. There was no way he was going back to the revolving door of assistants because Landen didn’t like Chelsea’s “attitude”.
Grier was already at the restaurant and somehow managed to get us a table despite the crowd waiting to be seated.
The woman was nearly frightening with her abilities to get things done.
Not long after Chelsea and I arrived, Lucy and Yancy strolled in, both of them glowing.
We all greeted each other and ordered drinks before Lucy turned to me and said, “Okay, I could barely sleep last night because of your texts. You can’t message me and say you’re having man trouble then refuse to give details. That’s against BFF law and you should definitely know that since you’re a lawyer!”
The rest of ladies nodded in agreement.
I had to take a deep breath and tamp down my anxiety because I hadn’t shared much with the girls before. I always tried to be supportive and assist them however I could, but I hated asking for help. My heart beat faster at the thought.
“I think this is the first time in my life that I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “Jordan…he’s unlike any man I’ve ever dated. Actually, he’s unlike any man I’ve ever known. He’s so hard to read. I don’t know what he’s thinking half the time and it’s driving me nuts.”
Lucy laughed. “I’m not sure men do a lot of thinking about their relationships.”
“That’s not true,” Yancy disagreed. “Charles seems very interested in our future. He’s even brought it up a couple of times. I’m sure Chris is the same.”
“No, he just makes statements and expects me to obey. I have to keep reminding him that he isn’t my boss anymore and that he can’t order me around,” Lucy replied, rolling her eyes.
“How’s that working for you?” Chelsea teased.
“It’s not.” Lucy’s eyes took on a sly glint. “Although he’s allowed to be as bossy as he wants in the bedroom.”
Everyone laughed. As the giggles died down, I stated, “But that’s just it. After Milton’s party last weekend, Jordan hasn’t done more than kiss me. We’ve gone out almost every night then he brings me home and leaves. It’s like last Friday night never happened!”
“What kind of kissing are we talking about here?” Lucy asked. “Just a peck or full-on make-out session?”
“I’m surprised my underwear doesn’t self-combust,” I answered.
She grinned. “That sounds promising.”
“It is, but he doesn’t seem interested in taking it further. I mean, it was hot at first, building the anticipation and everything, but after a week of that, I’m frustrated as hell.”
“I’ll bet,” Chelsea muttered, wearing a shit-eating grin.
“Do you think it means he isn’t interested in having sex with me?” I asked, hating the insecurity in my voice.
Grier spoke up for the first time since the conversation began. “No way. He wants you. I think that he’s trying to give you what you asked for, a relationship based on more than sex.”
“Considering we had sex last week, that’s a bit like closing the barn door after the horse is already out,” I joked.
“Yes, but you didn’t tell him what you wanted until after that night. How many nights did y’all go out this week?” Grier asked.
“Every night except Thursday.”
She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. When she grinned like that, she looked like a mischievous teenager rather than a twenty-five-year-old woman. If I didn’t love her, it would annoy me. “See? He’s courting you.”
“Courting?” Chelsea repeated. “Is this the nineteenth century?”
“I think it’s sweet,” Yancy interrupted. “It’s nice when a man takes the time to romance you.”
I had to laugh at the dreamy expression on her face. Charles definitely worked hard at the romance angle, and not because Yancy expected him to. That was just the kind of man he was. He’d taken her to The French Room at the Adolphus Hotel for their first date, which would definitely be considered pulling out all the stops in the romancing department.
“I’d like a guy that just shows up on time, calls when he says he will, and who’ll give me a neck rub without expecting sex in return,” Chelsea stated just as the waiter returned to the table with our drinks.
He cleared his throat just behind her as he began passing out the drinks. When he was done, Chelsea turned to him and said, “Is that too much to ask?”
He grinned at her and shook his head. “Not at all.” Looking around the table, he asked, “Are you all ready to order or do you need more time?”
Since we hadn’t even cracked our menus, he said he would return shortly.
“Let’s figure out what we want to eat before we continue this conversation,” I stated. “I’m starving.”
A few minutes later, our order was placed and I realized that I was no longer anxious about discussing my love life with my friends. After years of listening to them talk about their boyfriends, dates, and dry spells, they were eager to return the favor.
“So I take it you’re ready to take things to the next level?” Lucy asked after the waiter walked away.
I nodded. “I’m just not sure what to do. I’ve never had to, well, initiate before. At least not like this.”
“Well, I think you should seduce him,” Chelsea chimed in. “Sexy dress, lingerie, the whole enchilada. Make it so he can’t resist you.”
Lucy and Yancy nodded their agreement.
I turned my eyes to Grier. I fully expected her to disagree. She was all about communication and talking about things. Clearly, since she was the one who encouraged me to stop hiding from Jordan and tell him I wanted more than a fling.
“Well? What do you think?” I asked her.
A grin slowly spread across her face. “I think that sounds like fun.”
“What?” I probably sounded as shocked as I felt.
She laughed and the sound was very nearly wicked, which made me reconsider my belief that Grier was prim and proper. She was the only one of us who never seemed to have man trouble. She even remained friends with most of her ex-boyfriends. That dark, knowing laugh was completely out of character.
“Sometimes actions speak louder than words, Tanya. I think you know what Jordan’s actions are telling you, even if you don’t want to admit it. Now it’s time to talk back.”
I had no idea what she meant about Jordan’s actions speaking to me, but I did agree that it was time for me to take the next step. As much as I enjoyed our dates and the abandoned kisses that ended far too quickly, I wanted it all.
And when I want something, I find a way to get it.
Chapter Ten
I thought I would be nervous that night. Though I would deny it with my last dying breath, my fear that he would reject me had prevented me from taking this step before.
Somehow, talking to the girls had helped me let go of that fear a little. Grier was right. I knew what Jordan’s actions were saying—that he was giving me the
relationship I wanted, which meant evenings together that ended with kisses on my doorstep.
But I was ready for the next step. More than ready.
After I slid my feet into my black pumps, I walked over to the framed full-length mirror in the corner. The slinky black halter dress I wore was more suited to summer than the cold chill of February, but I didn’t intend to leave the house tonight so it wouldn’t be a problem. I would never have chosen it for myself, but Tessa had given it to me last year at Christmas with the intention of livening up my love life. I’d promptly stuck it in the back of my closet and forgotten about it. Now I was glad that my pushy sister had given it to me and I knew she would be ecstatic if she knew that it was being used as she intended it—to get me laid.
The sleek, shiny material tied at the nape of my neck and draped over my breasts, clinging to every curve. A narrow swathe of pale skin was exposed down to the bottom of my sternum and the back plunged into a dangerously low drape above my ass. The bodice bloused over a short, tight skirt that was just long enough to cover the tops of my thigh highs. The black stilettos I wore clearly stated, “Fuck me.”
Jordan was an intelligent man. I was confident that he would get the message as soon as I opened the door.
If he didn’t, well, I’d just have to say it louder.
I left my hair straight, the sleek bob brushing the tops of my shoulders and I kept my make-up simple and hopefully smudge-proof. The finishing touch was a dab of perfume behind each ear, on my wrists, and between my breasts.
As I straightened up the bathroom, my nerves buzzed beneath my skin. No, not nerves. Anticipation. Yes, I was a little nervous because I’d never seduced a man before, but more than that, I was excited. Ready. Even eager.
I’d had a long dry spell and I intended to make up for it.
I turned off the light in my bathroom and walked into the bedroom. I had several candles burning on my dresser and my bedside lamps were on. The overall effect was inviting but not over the top.
In the living room, I had a bottle of red wine open and ready to be poured and the scented candles I liked were all burning.