by Anthology
Sam picked up the bottle and refilled her glass. “Ever since this afternoon, I’ve been curious about the name of the restaurant. Is Vicenzo your father? Grandfather? Ex?”
She flinched inwardly at the last, hoping her discomfort didn’t show in her expression. The last person she wanted to talk about on a first date was her ex, or worse, Sam’s ex. Although she was admittedly curious to learn everything about him, that discussion would have to wait until at least the second date. Cocking her head, she quirked her brow. “It was my billionaire boyfriend’s name Don’t worry though, he’s no longer in the picture. He’s, shall we say, swimming with the fishes?”
“Did he take a short walk off a long pier wearing solid gold chains and cement boots?”
She laughed with real amusement, wishing it were the case. “Designer cement boots. Actually, in my family it’s tradition for the oldest child to be named after his or her father. My real name is Vicenza but everyone calls me Ivy. My grandfather started the restaurant and my father ran it until he retired. You could say cooking is in my blood.”
“Honestly, the salmon is probably the best I’ve had.”
She raised a skeptical brow at his compliment.
He laughed. “I’m not saying that because I want to get into your pants, unless it’s working and then it’s exactly what I’m saying.”
An exciting tingle coursed through her at his teasing comment and anticipation rose at the prospect of allowing him the opportunity. Straightening her back and batting her lashes, she affected a southern drawl. “I declare you are fresh, Mr. Rockney. How’s a lady supposed to answer such a question, and be respected in the morning?”
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “It’s simple. She never lets the night end.”
Chapter 3
Ivy entered through the back door of the restaurant, tired from a late night but utterly exhilarated because of it. Humming under her breath, she went up to the office to find Beth at the computer.
Beth spun around, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, how did last night go?”
Heat rushed to Ivy’s cheeks, an inane smile curving her lips. She grabbed an apron from the stack in the corner and tied it around her waist. Floating on a cloud of euphoria, she answered with a breathy, “Wonderful,” before she turned and descended the stairs to the kitchen.
Beth followed. “I heard you guys in the kitchen when I left at midnight. You sounded like you were having a good time.”
Ivy pulled out a pan of manicotti and placed it in the oven. “I had a blast. He’s really easy to talk to and so interesting. He’s not like any guy I’ve dated before. He actually pulled out my chair and helped me do the dishes.”
“Wow, in addition to being hot, he doesn’t suck in the kitchen. The big question is, what’s he like in the bedroom?”
It was the question Ivy had fantasized about all night. She wasn’t about to let Beth in on her dirty little secret, however. “Do you have sex on the brain?”
“When you’ve been involved with someone as long as I have, you live vicariously through others. Now, did you kiss him?”
“Actually, no.” Ivy retrieved a box of bell peppers from the walk-in and scanned the vegetables for imperfections. Moving to the sink, she put them in a large colander and turned on cold water to rinse them.
Beth gave her a skeptical look. “And you’re not upset about it?”
Ivy shrugged, grinning but trying not to. Thinking about Sam made her happy. “Like I said, he’s not like any guy I know. He didn’t get all handsy simply because we were alone. We shared a big hug after he walked me home. Believe me, it was difficult not to give in to temptation and molest him.”
Beth laughed. “He walked you all the way home. Nice.”
Ivy shook the colander. “I only live two blocks away. The best part is, I’m seeing him tonight. I hate to do this to you, but I have to leave right after lunch to go shopping. He told me to dress up. Of course I possess nothing fancy.”
“Or sexy. Make sure you get some nice lingerie, not those granny panties you wear.”
“What’s wrong with cotton briefs? It’s not like I wear Urkel pants up to my armpits. They don’t even reach my belly button.”
“You’re hopeless at being a girl.” Beth motioned to the cook entering through the back door. “Can you prep these?” she asked, indicating the bell peppers before she grabbed Ivy’s wrist and dragged her to the stairs. “Obviously, you need my assistance. Come on, we’re going shopping.”
“We can’t leave. There’s too much work to do.”
“Hello, there’s a thing called the internet. Nordstrom has a website. I’ll pick a dress for you, and we can call the store to have it set aside. If the lace underwear I choose doesn’t get you laid, then the guy is gay.”
Ivy stepped out of her apartment in her perfect little black dress and strappy heels. Underneath, the black lace bra and panty set made her feel extra sexy. She was pleased she had her legs waxed the week before. Staring at herself in the mirror one last time, she remembered why she hated dating. It was hard work.
Sam was waiting for her downstairs, looking like an ad for GQ in a beautifully cut suit, with a white shirt and silk tie. He grasped both of her hands in his, and gave her body the once over. It was as if his green eyes scorched every inch they touched. He pulled her into him, his cheek coming to rest against hers. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the spicy fragrance of his cologne and the underlying heat of skin.
“You look stunning.” He drew back and, slipping her hand through his arm, led her to the town car. He held the door, allowing her to slide into the back seat before he ran to the other side to climb in. The driver immediately pulled into traffic. The car, which had seemed large before, felt suddenly more intimate as he lifted her hand from her lap and brushed his lips against the back of it. Her stomach clenched, her unmentionables flooding with heat.
“I had a wonderful time last night,” he said.
Her fingers still laced with his, he rested their held hands on his thigh. She gazed up at him, curious if she appeared as enamored as she felt. “I did too.”
Eyes settling on her lips, his head began to lower. “I hope tonight will prove to be equally entertaining.”
She raised her chin, anticipation making her heart pound. Two inches, one inch, they were close enough that his breath brushed her lips. And then the town car came to an abrupt stop, jostling them apart.
“Sorry, construction,” the driver said, stopping on Alaskan Way next to Pier 66. “It looks like we might be here a while.”
Sam flashed an apologetic smile. “We’ll walk from here. It’s not far.”
He slid out of the car, and offered his hand to her. She made a point of arching her foot, giving her leg the best advantage possible. She was proud of her toned muscles. Despite her busy schedule, she made sure to run five miles every day. After the breakup, she had added kick boxing three days a week as an outlet for her pent up aggression. The exercise afforded her the stamina she needed to be on her feet for a twelve hour shift. Granted, she didn’t walk every day in four-inch heels, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make for him.
The waterfront was beautiful, a tangy breeze blowing off the water. In the distance she spied the ferry and a myriad of sailboats crisscrossing the sound. “Where exactly are we headed?” Ivy was familiar with the name of every restaurant within a fifteen-mile radius of her own, but could only speculate on where he was taking her.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Give me a hint,” she said, tugging at his hand and grinning.
He slipped his arm around her waist and leaned in close, his lips against her ear. “No.” He kissed her cheek before withdrawing.
Warmed by the gesture, she gave him a quizzical look. “So what occupies your time other than football and trying to bring fresh water to the world? An ex-wife? Kids?”
An anemic smile curved his lips. “I do more charity work than the Fresh Water Fund. I’m a
lso the spokesman for the Children’s Research Network. I became involved with diabetes research in graduate school.”
Ivy immediately noticed how he avoided answering the questions about his personal life. Was he hiding something or was she being paranoid? “You’re a doctor?”
“Not yet. I’m working on my doctorate in research science. I thought I told you that,” he said, steering her down a wooden ramp to the boat docks. “I’m just your typical science geek.”
Staring at his face in profile, his high cheekbones, square jaw and chiseled lips, she though he brought the term “geek hot” to a new level. “And do you come from a family of geniuses?”
“I’m not a genius by any stretch.” Sam halted before a yacht and greeted the steward.
His response wasn’t exactly what she had been hinting at, but she let the matter drop as they boarded the luxurious boat. Although she was no expert, even she recognized real marble and expensive Italian leather when she encountered it. She was curious to see the kitchen—dying to see the bedroom—but Sam led her outside to an expansive deck. A table with real crystal was set and a waiter in a black tux poured an expensive bottle of champagne. He handed a glass to Ivy, then one to Sam.
“This is beautiful. Is it yours?” she asked.
Sam clasped her elbow, leading her to the deck rail. The view was blindingly exquisite. “It belongs to the Pioneer organization. I’m in the process of renegotiating my contract so I called in a favor.”
Ivy nodded, sipping the champagne. It was a fairytale date and he was a fairytale prince. This must be how Cinderella felt when she went to the ball.
“Preseason is in six weeks. As you can guess, my schedule will be wild once the season starts. What with my five kids and two ex-wives—”
She gaped at him. “Your what?”
He threw back his head, laughing. “I’m kidding. You asked me earlier if I had an ex-wife and kids and I was playing off the joke.”
“I wasn’t joking, not entirely. Is there an ex-Mrs. Rockney with little Sam juniors running around?”
“Sorry, I assumed you had Google’d me like every other, uh… person I meet. My life is an open book—or at least a series of internet pages. Anything you want to know about me, you can read about it online.”
“And do you meet up with, uh… many other people?” she teased, curious at the flush staining his cheeks. Was it embarrassment or guilt? Given his profession, not to mention his exceptional looks, she had no doubt women threw themselves at him all the time. Which begged the question, was he a player?
“Not as many as your devious mind thinks and definitely no ex-wives. Not that I don’t want to get married. I was waiting for the right woman to come along,” he said, his eyes skimming across her face, touching her features as if memorizing each one.
The intensity of his gaze set her heart a flutter, and she turned, resting her back against the rail. “I don’t want to read about you online. I want to hear about you firsthand.”
“I can do that,” he said, moving forward, his body pressed to hers. He rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “Here’s the deal though. I really like you, and I want to see you again, but free time is a luxury I don’t often have. Don’t get me wrong, I like my life. I like who I am.”
“I like who you are too,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as he kissed her.
Ivy panted her way up the back stairs to her office, her legs protesting. Having completed her morning run along Alaskan Way, she had sprinted up the Pike Street Market stairs and her thighs were feeling it.
Beth offered her a Cheshire grin. “You’re in late. Must’ve been some night.”
“I’ve got to hop in the shower.” Ivy grabbed the bag from the corner and headed to the small bathroom. The room was large enough for a sink, a toilet, and a mop station converted to a makeshift shower. Five minutes later, she was back in the office dressed in her chef’s garb, wet hair in a sleek ponytail.
“So?”
“So he took me out to dinner on a yacht,” Ivy said, applying lotion on her face.
“How romantic,” Beth said, grinning. “And?”
Staring dreamily into the mirror, Ivy recalled for the umpteenth time how fantastic their first kiss had been and how each one after it was equally intense. The heated emotions the memory evoked overwhelmed her sense of reality and as curious as Beth was about the details, she preferred to keep them close. “Well, at midnight the dress my fairy godmother gave me turned into a heap of rags and I was forced to return to the kitchen—”
Beth snorted. “Enough. So you had a nice time and he was the perfect gentleman.”
Ivy twisted away from the mirror and rested her back against the wall. Crossing her arms over her chest, she bit her lip. “Actually he was.”
Beth eyed her tellingly. “I hear a but coming on.”
“I can’t place my finger on why there would be a but but there is. He’s gorgeous, and a great listener, but he didn’t talk about himself much, which makes me nervous. Kevin was secretive and we’re both aware how that turned out. What have you heard about Sam?”
“Like what? That he’s in the process of landing a multi-million dollar endorsement deal with Nike or that before you, he dated—”
“Stop, I don’t want to hear if he’s a player. That’s why I didn’t Google him. I don’t want to read about his countless girlfriends, who I’m sure were all beautiful supermodels.” She continued to worry her lip as a wave of uncertainty crashed over her.
“He’s not a player. And he chose to be with you, remember?”
“He’s just so damn successful. In addition to being a fantastic football player, in his spare time he’s working on a cure for diabetes. Who does that kind of stuff?”
Beth stood and placed a hand on Ivy’s shoulder. “A really good guy, the kind of guy somebody as nice as you deserves. Kevin really did a number on your confidence, and you need to get past it. Besides, if you think about it, you’re as successful in your own right as Sam is. You’re going to be in Seasoned-freakin-Chef magazine. Don’t let your stupid insecurities stop you from giving this guy a chance.”
Ivy squeezed Sam’s hand, relishing the sensation of his fingers linked with hers as they skirted the brightly lit Space Needle. It was a cool, overcast night, but his presence was enough to warm her.
Tugging at her hand, he brought her body flush to his. “It’s getting late.”
A tremor of anticipation skittered up her spine and she stood on her toes, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth. It was their third date and although it was a cliché, she looked forward to moving to the next level. “It is. Shall we go?”
He answered by kissing her. She slid her hand inside his leather jacket, her fingers skimming over the fabric of his shirt to explore the muscles beneath the cotton. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss.
“Get a room,” a woman walking past snickered to her companion.
“Good call,” Sam whispered against her lips. “Let’s find a cab.”
“Yes, let’s,” she said, grinning. They began to walk back toward Fisher Broadcasting when Sam suddenly stopped. It took Ivy a second to realize the man blocking their path held a gun.
Chapter 4
Ivy’s breath caught, her fingers clutching around Sam’s. In the surrealness of the moment, the only thing she could focus on was the Mugger’s Pioneers cap.
“Give me the wallet and the purse.”
Despite the demand, Ivy stood stiff, not able to move. Sam retrieved his wallet and held it out. The mugger made to snatch it, but stopped.
“Hey, you’re Knute. The sneak you did against Pittsburgh in the last two minutes of the Super Bowl was sweet. Is that your ring?”
Ivy absently noticed Sam seized the opportunity to move his body more fully between her and the threat of the gun. “Yes.”
“Can I see it?” the mugger asked, his once low voice now high with excitement.
Sam removed the ring and the mugger palmed it, aw
estruck. “You think the Pioneers are gonna go to the Super Bowl again this year?”
Sam shrugged. “I hope so.”
“Wow, Knute Rockney,” the man whispered, handing the ring back to Sam. He removed his cap. “Hey, do you think I could get your autograph?
“I don’t have a pen.” Although Sam spoke reasonably enough, Ivy sensed the tension in his shoulders. If she wasn’t present, she’d bet a million dollars he would have tackled the guy by now. The cave woman in her wanted to see that. You man, me woman, protect me. She stifled a hysterical giggle at the notion. It was apparent she didn’t do well under stressful situations. She was glad he kept a calm head.
The mugger looked at Ivy and her amusement fled in an instant. She started to hand her purse over when he asked, “You got a pen?”
Ivy scrounged in the bottom of her purse and found one of the ever-present Sharpie’s, a staple tool in any restaurant kitchen. Sam detached it from her shaking fingers and signed his name on the bill.
The mugger put the hat back on and, offering Sam a wide, toothless grin, yelled, “Go Pioneers,” before running off into the night.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked, whipping around and grabbing her shoulders.
Staring into his stark features, she pointed frantically from herself to him, to the direction the mugger took. “Oh my God, we were robbed, well almost. He didn’t take anything.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam drew her into a comforting embrace.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his chest. He stroked her hair, his heart thudding rapidly beneath her ear. “For what? If it hadn’t been for you…” she trailed off. “We should call the police. The guy was carrying a gun. He might hurt someone else.”