by Cathie Linz
He’d ignored her.
My dragon, Daddy. You promised.
She no longer remembered the exact wording of his excuses—the bottom line was that it was time to move on to another job, and he hadn’t gotten the dragon for her.
Stop your pouting. It was just a stupid dragon. If you behave I promise to come to that birthday party of yours in a few weeks.
He hadn’t done that, either.
It was the last time she’d trusted any of her father’s promises, but not the last time she’d wished that those promises had been kept.
So yes, when she’d seen a similar dragon at the Halloween carnival in high school, she’d gone after it, hoping to recapture those lost promises. Because in some way that dragon had represented her chance at happiness, and she’d been determined to get it for herself instead of being disappointed by others. But it hadn’t been meant to be. Again, the dragon had gotten away.
Until now. She ran her finger over the dragon’s grin once more, as if unable to comprehend that she finally held it in her own two hands. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Do you like it?”
She nodded, the emotion so great that she couldn’t find words to express it. “More than I can say.”
“There’s also Chunky Monkey ice cream in the freezer. Want some?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat as she shook her head. “Not now, thanks.”
“Did I get it right? Your favorite things, I mean.”
“Yes, you did.” She stared at the table filled with an array of goodies that were more dear to her than gold, because he’d taken the time to get them for her, because he’d remembered an incident she’d long forgotten but had yet to overcome. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll go out with me Friday night. Just the two of us. I’ll get a sitter for Blue. Come on,” he coaxed her, with his bad boy smile, the one he saved for special occasions, the one that never failed to get to her. “Say yes.”
She stared down at the dragon, wondering if once again it represented her chance at happiness. Here she was, after all these years, with both the dragon and Curt within reach. Maybe it was a sign? Maybe it meant she’d have a chance at happiness after all. All she had to do was grab hold with both hands. To take that chance. “Yes,” she said.
“You won’t regret it,” Curt promised her,
Jessica sincerely hoped not, because she didn’t know if she could take any more broken promises.
Chapter 10
“I LEAVE TOWN FOR a weekend and come back to find you’ve dumped Trevor and are dating Curt Bad Boy Blackwell. I don’t believe this!” Amy had her leg slung over the arm of Jessica’s favorite curl-up-and-read chair in her bedroom.
“Stop complaining and help me find something to wear,” Jessica demanded from inside the walk-in closet.
“You’re even starting to sound like him,” Amy grumbled as she took a bite of an apple.
Jessica popped out of the closet to ask, “Which of these two do you like better? This one…” Jessica held up an ivory print georgette dress. “Or this one?” She swapped hangers to hold up the blue silk dress she’d worn the last time she’d gone out with Trevor.
“The first one makes you look like a schoolteacher and you end up wearing the second one whenever you go out.”
“You’re not being helpful here. What am I going to wear?”
“Where is he taking you?” Amy asked.
“Out to dinner.”
“Where? At Dino’s?”
“I didn’t ask him.”
“First mistake,” Amy muttered before taking another bite of apple.
“I thought you said my first mistake was saying yes.”
“And having made that mistake you compounded matters by not clarifying where you were going.”
Eyeing the blue dress, which it was true she seemed to have worn a lot, Jessica noted, “I think he said he was taking me someplace nice.”
“You think he said?”
“I was still stunned by all those wonderful things he got me.” She motioned to the items on display atop her pine dresser. “A dragon, Amy. He got me a dragon.”
“So you’ve told me for the past three hours.”
“It hasn’t been that long…” Jessica paused to check her watch. “Oh, no, he’ll be here in two hours! And I haven’t done my hair yet!”
“Don’t panic,” Amy told her, leaping from the chair to march into Jessica’s closet herself. A minute later she was back. “I think you should wear this.”
The black sleeveless sheath dress still had the price tag on it. Jessica hadn’t worn it because it was shorter than any of her other dresses and frankly she’d always chickened out.
“You don’t think it’s too…” Jessica wiggled her hand.
“Of course it’s too,” Amy mocked her. “That’s why you should wear it tonight. It’s chic and elegant. Very Audrey Hepburn. And yes, it’s shorter than what you usually wear, but I thought you wanted Curt to notice you, right?”
“Right.”
“Then wear this. And forget about those sensible black pumps of yours. Dig out those darling little three-inch spike heels with the ankle strap that you wore to my office party last Christmas.”
“You made me buy those.” Jessica’s voice was accusatory.
Amy was not the least bit repentant. “Good thing, too, because they’ll look like dynamite with this dress. Okay, now that we’ve made those fashion decisions, tell me again why you dumped Trevor in favor of Curt.”
“I did not dump Trevor,” Jessica denied. “We mutually decided we weren’t suited and that was weeks ago now. And I’m not dating Curt, we’re just going out on a date. One date. The only date I’ve ever had with Curt.”
“So you’re considering this to be like the senior prom you missed out on, huh?”
“No. He got me a dragon, Amy. He remembered how much I wanted it. I swear to you, I never said a word to him. How could I? I’d practically forgotten all about it.”
“The same way you’d practically forgotten about Curt before he walked into your classroom?” Amy countered astutely.
Now it was Jessica’s turn to sink into the slipcovered chair to gaze at her friend with earnest solemnity. “What if I was wrong in thinking that he only asked me to marry him because of Blue. What if he’s starting to feel for me the way I feel for him?”
“Which is?”
“That he’s the one. That he was always the one. I think you were right. The real reason I couldn’t accept Jeff’s proposal last year was because I never really got over Curt.”
“I said that?”
“You did. At Dino’s when we ate cheeseburgers after Curt kissed me the first time.”
“The first time? So he’s kissed you more than once?”
“He kissed me after he proposed to me and I said no.”
“No doubt in the hopes of convincing you to say yes.”
Jessica nodded. “But I didn’t say yes.”
“Until he gave you a dragon.”
“It wasn’t just the dragon, it’s what it represents.”
“Your lost childhood?” Amy inquired with a teasing grin.
Jessica shook her head, her glowing smile filled with gentle hope. “My lost dreams.”
“So how’s the battle going?” Joe asked. “Did you win the war yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m getting close to my objective,” Curt replied, jiggling the phone against his ear as he signed off on a training report. The metal desk he was sitting at seemed small and confining. He was forever banging his knee on an open drawer or the desk corner. He was a man of action, not a paper-pusher. This was the longest he’d been at a desk since he was in school.
Early on, one of his commanding officers had suggested he consider going in for officer training, but Curt hadn’t wanted to leave the adrenaline rush of active duty. And when he was in the middle of some hot spot, responsible for the well-being of the men in his platoon, there wa
s no time to brood about his past, no time to listen to those dark voices in his head that whispered he wasn’t good enough and never would be.
He’d proved those voices wrong. He knew he was a damn good marine. The numerous commendations he’d received told him that the U.S. Marine Corps knew it, too.
Now the question was could he be a damn good father…and husband? The jury was still out on that one.
“I’ve still got a few logistical details to work out yet,” Curt told Joe.
“Like what?” Joe asked.
“Like where to take her tonight,” Curt admitted.
“Tonight? You’re not giving me much lead time, Blackwell.”
“You’re a fast thinker, Wilder,” Curt retorted. “So start thinking.”
“What are you looking for here, someplace intimately candlelit with French food?”
“The only French food I like is French fries.”
“Scratch that then.”
“I was thinking of taking her to that fancy restaurant on top of the John Hancock Building. You ever been up there?”
“Yeah. Good steak and a great view.”
“So you think I should take her there?”
“Jeez, Blackwell, since when do you check with me about where to take your dates? This woman has really gotten to you. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Sure go ahead and laugh. Just wait until some woman gets under your skin.”
“Lots of women have gotten under my skin,” Joe retorted. “That’s why I couldn’t ever settle down with just one. Besides, you know how high the divorce rate is among marines. Women don’t take kindly to us being marines first and husbands second.”
“I know, but Jessica is different.”
“She’d have to be to get your attention. So tell me, how’s the daddy gig going?”
“Never tell a three-year-old to go out there and kick some butt. They take you literally.” Curt went on to give Joe an abbreviated version of Blue’s ballet debut.
Joe’s laughter was hearty. “At least you didn’t tell her that marine kids are tough and can chew nails. My dad always told me and my brothers that.”
Joe came from a large tight-knit military family, his experience so different from Curt’s. Sometimes he thought it was a miracle they were friends. But the Marine Corps had brought them together. That and a similarly wacky sense of humor. Despite their differences, Curt sensed a darker side to Joe that he kept well-hidden.
Not that Curt had ever asked him about it. He figured if Joe wanted to talk, he knew where to reach him. The same was true for him. Curt knew he could depend on Joe.
“Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding,” Joe said.
“I wouldn’t have it without you, buddy.”
“That’s for damn sure. You just remember that it’s been my fine advice that’s gotten you where you are today.”
“Banged up with a busted leg teaching squibs?” Curt retorted, running his bent knuckles over his achy thigh.
“I meant with Jessica. It’s been my wisdom and guidance that’s led this operation to success.”
“That battle isn’t won yet,” Curt warned him. “She hasn’t said yes yet.”
“She will, Blackwell. She will.”
Knowing Curt’s military precision where punctuality was concerned, she eyed the clock on the hallway table with concern. He was five minutes late. What if something had happened?
He wouldn’t have asked her out just to stand her up. No way.
That realization told her a lot about her own trust in Curt. He was an honorable man, who stood by his responsibilities. If he said he’d be here, he’d be here.
Sure enough, her intercom buzzed, indicating there was someone in the lobby. It was Curt.
The last time he was here he’d bypassed the security system by meeting up with Mr. Sanders, who lived at the end of the hallway and had been in the marines during the Korean Conflict. On his way into the building, Mr. Sanders had naturally kept the door open for a fellow marine. Jessica wasn’t sure who let the pizza delivery-man past the security door in the lobby that day, but she suspected it one of the Sanderses’ kids.
Such mundane thoughts kept her from panicking about the short skirt on her dress. The dress was very flattering, its classic lines hugging her body. And her legs looked even longer thanks to the killer strappy shoes she wore. It had been so long since she’d worn such high heels that she’d had to practice walking in them without wobbling. She thought she had it down pat now.
Then she opened the door and saw Curt. This was the fourth time she’d ever seen him in his dress blues. The impact was still awesome.
“Sorry I’m late. Blue took forever to get dressed before I could drop her off at the sitter. We couldn’t leave until we found her black patent leather shoes. She refused to wear any other pair. Then she had to put matching shoes on Fooba bear. I thought we’d never get out of my place.”
Curt saw her eyeing his uniform and hoped she didn’t think he was being pretentious by wearing it. The truth was that he didn’t own a suit. He’d never had any need for one. And since the restaurant tonight required a jacket and tie, it was his dress blues or nothing.
Then he got over his own nervousness long enough to notice what she was wearing. Notice was a mild way of putting it. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was wearing some black clingy dress that followed her curves like a lover’s hand. And her legs… He hoped he wasn’t drooling. Her legs went on forever. He was speechless.
She’d used that perfumed shower gel he’d gotten her. He recognized the scent—nice with just a touch of naughty. It suited her so well. Especially tonight.
His gaze lifted to her face. Her honey-blond hair was piled on top of her head in a way guaranteed to make a man want to remove the wide silver clip and make the silky strands tumble around her shoulders. She wore more makeup than usual, making her green eyes look even more gorgeous and her mouth…downright luscious. Her shimmery lipstick was a sinful red, the color of cherries.
“Um…” She licked her lips nervously, as if she, too, was uncertain what to say. “I’m ready to go.”
“I’m ready, too,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Ready for this.”
Gently tipping her chin up, he brushed his lips over hers. She tasted as good as she looked. He truly meant the kiss to be a quick greeting. But his good intentions flew out the window when she responded.
Jessica slid her hand along his jaw, relishing in the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingertips. She couldn’t believe how perfect the kiss was, how deliriously exhilarating it was to know that he wanted her. He seemed to know exactly how to please her—where to touch, where to linger, when to deepen the pressure of his mouth on hers, when to add a tempting thrust of his tongue.
In his arms she became a different person, someone capable of arousing the passions of a sexy and powerful man like Curt. She was no longer the awkward teenager who had never experienced love. Instead she was a woman confident of her appeal and her own femininity.
Then her stomach growled. Not a dainty sound, and it startled her so much that she stepped back from him in embarrassment.
“Sorry about that. I skipped lunch,” she mumbled self-consciously. So much for being a confident woman in killer heels.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmured. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips, palm uppermost, to press a kiss against her skin before folding her fingers over as if to hold the memory of his kiss there. “I’m hungry, too,” he told her, his hand sliding down her arm to her elbow before he moved away.
The darkly intense look he gave her told her he was hungry for her, not for food.
Flustered, she grabbed her silky black cardigan sweater, clutched it to her and said, “We should go.”
“Affirmative.” He straightened as if he were a palace guard and she the resident princess.
Jessica knew they talked on the drive to the John Hancock Building but for the life of her she couldn’t rememb
er what was said. Once they were inside the high-speed elevator that whisked them up to the 95th floor, she clung to Curt’s arm more for the sheer enjoyment of being so close to him than out of any concern regarding the elevator’s safety.
It was a clear night, and the view from their window-side table was impressive. Almost as impressive as Curt in his dress blues. She’d caught the other women eyeing him as they’d walked to their table. Tonight he was all hers.
That realization made it hard for her to concentrate on anything but Curt. Oh, the magical view of the Outer Drive curling north along the lakefront like a ribbon of lights contributed to the perfect setting. So did the tender steaks and mouthwatering roasted potatoes with tender asparagus spears. But it was Curt who captured most of her attention—the way he gazed at her mouth as if he couldn’t wait to kiss her again, the way he listened when she spoke, the way his smile changed the stark lines of his face.
Dessert was a decadent chocolate mousse, but not as decadent as that kiss they’d shared earlier in the evening. He was treating her as if she was a woman he really desired, a woman who was special to him.
The perfect evening continued once they were back outside. There was no wind off the lake tonight to cool things down, so the sidewalks were crowded with people making the most of the unusually warm late April evening.
As they crossed Michigan Avenue to where Curt had parked the car, they passed Chicago’s historic Water Tower and the line of horse and buggies waiting for the tourist trade.
Laughing self-consciously, she confessed, “When I was a little girl I used to imagine at Halloween that our pumpkin would turn into Cinderella’s coach with a team of prancing white horses.”
“There’s a white horse right here.” He nodded toward a horse decked out in equine finery. “Care to accompany me on a buggy ride, ma’am?” he inquired with princely formality.
“I didn’t mean you had to… I wasn’t fishing for an invitation.”
Putting his index finger to her lips, he halted her unsteady flow of words. “Yes or no?”