by Alicia Rae
A deliberately slow smile began to spread across his face, all the way until it revealed a small dimple at the corner of his mouth. My feet moved of their own accord, closing the distance between us. Those gray eyes pulled at me in a way that no words could describe. I heard Kate’s voice talking to me, yet it was a dull background noise. My attention was completely rapt on the man before me…and that smile.
God, that smile. It was like he knew that he had me.
I stopped inches in front of him, and I was forced to look up at him. “What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
That crease at the corner of his mouth deepened, making my heart beat erratically. “Picking you up for our date.”
“You said dinner,” I corrected him. “And no, you’re not. I politely declined several times.”
Kate shifted on her feet at my left and cleared her throat. “Well, I’d better get going. See you tomorrow, Raelyn.”
I tilted my head to offer her an apologetic smile. “Good night, Kate.”
She scurried off and jumped into her car before peeling out of the parking lot. I almost laughed at her urgency. After the way she’d been curious for information earlier, she’d sure left in a hurry.
I could feel Damien’s eyes burning into me. My pulse thrummed with an uncontrollable fervor as I gazed back at him. “We are not having dinner,” I reiterated, unsure of which one of us I was trying to convince as I blindly fumbled with my keys. I grabbed the keyless entry fob to unlock my car. “Please move.”
Damien stood to his full height and inched his way closer to me. It did nothing to calm my reaction to his proximity. I silently tried to relax, but my heart rate just kept accelerating. He lifted his hand and set it at the base of my chin. Ever so slowly, he tilted my head to meet his gaze.
“One dinner, Raelyn,” he said gently, the depths of his grays penetrating me.
His touch sparked something inexplicable within me, but I quickly tucked that thought away.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
I wanted to say no so badly, so I could protect myself from the possibility of the unknown, yet the way he was looking at me challenged me not to.
“Okay,” I found myself saying.
His eyes lit up with pleasure. It was a stunning sight to see.
“Okay,” he repeated in agreement with a genuine smile.
He lowered his hand to grab mine and gave it a slight tug toward his Mitsubishi R8 as he told me, “Come on. I’ll drive.”
With my files still in my opposing hand, I motioned to my Malibu. “But my car is here.”
“I’ll drive you back afterward. I want you all to myself for a few hours.”
If my body wasn’t humming from our connection, I would have had the right mind to protest. He unlocked his car and opened the passenger door for me. I lowered myself into the seat, placing the files on the center of my lap, and then I put on the seat belt as he came around the vehicle and entered the driver’s seat.
Damien turned over the engine. It purred to life with a masculine throaty sound. He set his hand on the gearshift and then hesitated. His gaze, dancing with amusement, wandered to the documents on my thighs. “Do you always bring work home with you?”
“Yes,” I admitted, suddenly feeling shy about my lack of a social life. My work was my life.
“So do I”—Damien grinned—“but not today.”
He slowly reached over and grabbed the folders. The movement caused the sleeves of his dark suit and white shirt to slightly slide up his forearm, revealing a black tribal-looking tattoo that wrapped around his wrist and disappeared beneath his clothing. Before I could make out more of it, a rush of his minty breath hit my nose.
I held my breath as he said, “Don’t worry. They’ll be perfectly safe in my backseat.”
He lifted his arms and rotated toward the back of the car where he gently lowered my paperwork onto the seat. I forced myself to focus on the dashboard when he gazed back at me, still invading my space.
From the corner of my eye, I saw his grin widen. It was as if he was reveling in my uneasiness. He knew he affected me.
Damn him.
“Uh, thank you,” I fumbled to say at last, failing to conceal my nervousness. I was two seconds away from melting into a puddle on the floor.
“You’re welcome.”
With his foot on the brake and his hand on the gearshift, Damien shifted the car into drive. The sports car moved forward smoothly as we headed through the parking lot for the main street.
“Do you have a preference on where we eat?” he asked.
I gazed sideways at him.
“Steak, Italian, seafood?” he asked.
“Italian sounds good.” I was starving.
“Fine by me,” he said, reciprocating my expression.
Damien pulled into Caro Mio and slowly drove to the front of the Italian restaurant. The building was made of natural stone, all earthy tones, with lights beaming down on the sidewalk. I was immediately thankful I’d worn a cream blouse and black pencil skirt with matching black heels to work today, appearing somewhat dressy for such an elaborate place.
Damien parked his car under the intricate archway at the entrance of the valet section. He reached behind him and pulled out a black leather briefcase before exiting the vehicle to come around to my side to open my door. He reached for my hand to help me out of the vehicle.
A young blond-haired gentleman approached and gave us a friendly smile. “Good evening, sir.”
“Evening.” Damien let go of me and discreetly tipped the gentleman.
In return, he gave Damien a green ticket. “Thank you, sir.” The man nodded before walking over to the double doors to open one for us.
Damien gently took my hand again and guided it to his forearm to escort me inside.
I was instantly in awe of the two large marble pillars on either side of the front desk. The inviting warm-colored walls were covered in elegantly framed artwork.
“Good evening, Mr. Heathman,” the woman standing behind the front desk greeted us and pointed to her left. “Ms. Livingston will seat you right away.”
I was surprised to learn there would be no wait as Ms. Livingston beamed welcomingly at Damien and me.
Her shiny red hair and bright blue eyes glowed beneath the lighting. “Right this way, Mr. Heathman.” She motioned for us to follow her.
Damien slowly led me along as we skirted around the main part of the dining section, and then we made a sharp right where we passed through a wooden archway. It appeared to be a secluded area meant for private dining.
We were directed to the corner of the room next, passing a large electric fireplace surrounded by black-and-gray slate tiles. The flames yellow glow illuminated the space, and the heat radiating from it faintly heated my already warm skin.
Damien pulled out my chair for me, so I could take a seat. As he walked to the other end of the square-shaped table, he set his briefcase on the floor and sat down. I couldn’t help but observe his every move. Each one of his purposeful actions was deliberate and controlled. His presence seemed to suck all the oxygen from the room, and I felt breathless when he finally stared over at me.
I tried my best to read his eyes. They were completely indecipherable, and their darkness drew me in, captivating me, as if calling to me.
He smiled a dazzling smile at me, and with just that look alone, my pulse changed speeds and beat wildly in my veins. Understanding he had a profound effect on me that I was powerless to control, I was desperate to make this meeting quick, so I could escape.
My throat closed with my qualms, and I swallowed before speaking. “So, you had something you wanted to share with me?”
“Not yet,” he answered, methodically shaking his head back and forth, as he kept his gaze locked on mine. “Dinner first. Then, work.”
Right on cue, the waitress appeared out of thin air. She positioned herself at the center of the table and gave Damien and me each a tall glass of water, smiling
brightly between the two of us. “May I take your orders?”
I scurried for my menu and scanned the contents.
Damien replied without hesitation, “Yes, please. I’ll have the chicken and shrimp carbonara with a salad, paired with a glass of your finest Cabernet Sauvignon.”
The waitress scribbled on her notepad before glancing down at me. “And for you, ma’am?”
Since chicken sounded lovely and it was my favorite, I said, “I’ll have the chicken alfredo and also a salad with extra ranch, please.”
“And to drink?” she asked as she made another note.
Given I viewed this as a business meeting, I would normally refuse any kind of alcohol. But, tonight, with the way Damien’s presence affected me, I decided one glass of wine might put me at ease. “I’ll try the Cabernet Sauvignon as well.”
“Of course. I’ll be back with your salads and drinks in just a few minutes.” Her smile was unwavering as she dismissed herself.
Uncertain of what to say to the man in front of me, I reached for my straw and set about removing the white wrapper. I placed the straw in my drink and then picked up the long paper to fold it over and over again. I felt like I was in high school on my first date again. Only, this time, I didn’t have braces and untamed bangs. That was what this man did to me. He reduced me into a tongue-tied mass while butterflies swarmed in my stomach.
The deep throaty tone of Damien’s voice pulled me out of my wandering thoughts when he queried, “Extra dressing, huh?”
“Oh, yes. It’s a must in my book.” I grinned over at him. “It makes the lettuce go down smoother.”
As a kid, I’d been forced to eat whatever was on my plate, which hadn’t been adequate nutrition for a growing child. I was trying to remedy my lack of taste buds as an adult. Ranch or cheese always made food more appealing.
“I take it, you’re not a fan of lettuce?” His brows rose in amusement, and his lips twitched.
“No.” I laughed nervously, twisting the wrapper in front of me on the table. “Unfortunately, I never acquired much of a preference for any kind of vegetable. It’s one of my faults.” I inwardly rolled my eyes at myself, unsure of why I’d told him that last part.
“Faults? I can’t imagine you have any faults.” He grinned mischievously. It was a sight to behold, a much better sight to witness than his normal indifference.
“Oh, I have a whole list,” I corrected him.
He thoughtfully tilted his head to the side. “Care to share?”
Normally, I wouldn’t divulge those tidbits of information to anyone. However, maybe it could work to my benefit, and he wouldn’t ask me out again.
“Hmm…let’s see,” I drawled teasingly as the waitress quietly delivered our salads and wine before leaving. “I’m a bed hog. I love to sleep in the middle of it. Laundry is my worst enemy.”
The more I pondered, the more my list increased, so I continued, “I’m ridiculously OCD when it comes to cleaning even though I dislike it. The idea of something being out of place puts me on edge.”
He lifted his wine and hovered the glass in front of his lips while his eyes sparkled over the rim at me. “There is nothing wrong with everything having a proper place.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Sometimes, I wish I could let the mess be, but my mind won’t tolerate it.”
“So, what about the good?” He took a drink from his glass.
“The good?” I took a sip of my wine. It was fruity and slightly dry, but surprisingly, it went down smoothly.
“Yes. What are your strong suits?”
His question caught me off guard. It was harder than the first. I placed my glass on the table. “I’m organized and prepared. When I need to be somewhere, I’m always on time.”
“You’re one of those people who arrive thirty minutes early to everything, aren’t you?” His right brow curved upward into an inquisitive arch. It caused a wild stray hair to fall onto his forehead.
I resisted the urge to reach forward and push it back into place. No contact with Damien would be the safest for the shield around my heart.
“Yep.” I chuckled and pointed my finger at him. “But at least I’m squeaky clean around the house. That has to count for something, right?”
“Good point.” He joined in my mirth. His laughter was a stunning sound to my ears. It was infectious and the kind that made one smile just for being privy to hearing it.
“You should laugh more often,” slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Maybe he did, and I just didn’t know him well enough to know any better.
I regretted my comment instantly as Damien pressed his lips together and swallowed.
“Why is that?” he asked.
My fingers began to make work of what was left of my straw wrapper again, and I confessed, “It makes you less intimidating.”
His expression turned to surprise. “You find me intimidating?”
I felt my face heat. “Very much so.”
The planes of his features hardened fractionally. “Sometimes, there isn’t much to smile and laugh about in life.”
I couldn’t argue with him there, so I subtly nodded my head in agreement. Again, I grabbed my wine as a distraction. “So, what about you? What are your strengths and weaknesses?” I questioned, disturbed by how eager I was to hear his answers.
Damien raised his hand and ran it back and forth across his jaw. I could tell he was thinking deeply.
“Well, with my companies, I have a canny ability to keep calm and delegate orders when the time calls for it. I have a bachelor’s in business management, and it has served me extremely well thus far in life.”
“And your weaknesses?” I pressed in a teasing voice to maintain a light atmosphere.
“Oh, there are too many to list.”
There was no way I was going to let him off the hook so easily with his evasiveness, so I playfully narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
He was quiet for a few moments, seeming lost in his own mind. Just when I finally thought he wasn’t going to answer me, he told me, “I constantly need to have control.”
His response should have unnerved me, but for some inexplicable reason, it didn’t. Instead, it left me reeling, and I found myself wanting to crawl out of my isolated protective bubble as my curiosity about this mysterious man across from me increased.
I licked my lips and dug deep for my courage, staring straight into the depths of his grays. “You need it or thrive on it?”
His eyes held mine captive. “Need it. In all aspects of my life.”
That sounded like a loaded statement. Before I could process my thoughts, the waitress suddenly appeared with our meals and placed them in front of us. I was instantly grateful for the interruption because I wasn’t sure of how to reply to his statement.
My chicken alfredo smelled divine, so I wasted little time in adding a dash of salt and pepper before diving into my meal. Damien and I fell into a comfortable silence as we began to eat. I found myself longing to learn more about him, but at the same time, I was equally apprehensive to do so. It was confusing, to say the least.
“So, are you originally from here?” he asked me in between bites.
“No.”
“Where’s home then?”
I twisted my fork to twine the long noodles around the metal while pondering. The easiest explanation was that I didn’t have one. My home was where I’d made it seven years ago with Iris here in Sarasota when my foster family had kicked me out of their house and left me to fend for myself. I had no idea where I was born or who my birth parents were, except my biological mother had left me a large amount of money in a bank account. I’d received it five years ago after she’d apparently passed away. None of that would make good conversation over dinner.
“Here,” I finally answered, knowing that I was a walking contradiction of my last comment.
Damien must have agreed with my internal thoughts because
his eyes darted up to mine. His face contorted in confusion. “But you just said you’re not from here.”
“I’m not.”
“But you just said…” He trailed off, as if waiting for me to clarify.
“I know.” I reached for my wine and sipped on it, needing it to soothe me. “This is my home now, and that is all that matters. My past is of no importance,” I finished softly before biting my lower lip to keep it from trembling.
I was thankful that Damien didn’t ask me to elaborate as we both resumed eating our meals. We switched to a more neutral conversation, talking about the erratic Florida weather, our favorite beaches, and the places we each dreamed of visiting someday in the future.
Other than sharing a common interest of the outdoors, I learned that we were actually complete opposites of one another. Damien loved to read business magazines while I preferred art-related ones. He religiously ran and worked out to keep in good shape while I sadly despised my treadmill or vigorous regimens. It seemed that he was an optimist, whereas I was a realist.
An hour passed in the blink of an eye, and I was on my second glass of wine. I pinched my index finger and thumb around the stem and began to spin the glass within my grasp. This was starting to feel like Damien was getting his way, making this evening more of a date than a business meeting. It was time to cut to the chase.
“So, are you going to tell me why you asked me here, Damien?” I queried, repeating my earlier question. It was time to get this evening over with, so I could rush back home into my worry-free safe zone, away from the intimidating Damien Heathman.
He intently eyed me across the table, as though he were gathering his feelings and piecing them together, before he said, “You said something to me in our conference meeting yesterday that changed my perspective.” He hesitated, looking straight at me.
The seriousness of his tone made me feel on edge as I wondered where this conversation was leading.
“And what was that?” I asked softly.
“You said that numbers never lie, and it made me contemplate where I want to go from here.”