CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE TRILOGY

by Patrice Wilton

  She was walking into the restaurant when she felt a hand at her elbow. She stopped mid-stride and turned to face Derek. He was right on time.

  “Hi, Derek. Wow.” Her gaze slid over him. “I’m not sure I would have recognized you.”

  He was wearing a tan sports jacket over a body hugging knit shirt and well fitted jeans. His dark hair was swept back, but one thick strand refused to stay. As a hair stylist, she would have positioned it over his forehead just the way it was.

  “I would have spotted you a mile away.” He was smiling at her, and Christine didn’t know why it made her pulse race, but it did. Maybe she wasn’t used to men looking at her as though she were attractive. After twenty years of marriage, a woman forgot about such things. And in the three years since her divorce, she hadn’t wanted any men to look at her. Not that she disliked men. She still thought most of them were pretty terrific, but she preferred to admire them from a safe distance.

  She gave her name to the hostess and they were led to a table in a corner. The lights were dim and it was a romantic setting. Not what she had intended, but it was one of the best restaurants in town and she wanted to win him over.

  They ordered cocktails, a glass of Chardonnay for her and a Scotch and soda for him, then perused the menu. She glanced at him from behind the cover of the menu. He had a strong jaw, she noticed, and a good mouth, and his nose was just the right size. Definitely a face that a camera would be kind to. Any camera. Even hers. Why didn’t she think to bring it? She could have sneaked a few shots in between the appetizer and the dessert.

  But she would loosen him up first. Get some drinks into him. Then broach the subject of using his face for her website. The idea had come to her at work when she was updating Champagne’s website and noticed it was boring as all get out. She needed a reason for people to linger longer, and he certainly was easy on the eyes. If she could get him to agree, she would like to take it a step further and have him as the face for Champagne. It didn’t have to be forever, but for a six month or a year period. He’d be Champagne’s Marlboro man.

  He was perfect—not too young or pretty-boy looking, but a man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and looked adventurous enough to be interesting. She had a mental image of him sky diving or mountain climbing and pictured it as a photo-shoot. But how could she possibly convince him to be her Marlboro man when he clearly had been in a snit over one picture in a magazine?

  Her fingers tapped a nervous beat on the table and she crossed and uncrossed her legs. She didn’t have any idea how to get him to agree to do something he was uncomfortable with. How could she entice him? What would it take? Money was usually a motivating factor for most people, but she didn’t think it would be as simple as that.

  It would be so much easier to find someone more willing, but she didn’t want to. She’d already made up her mind that she wanted him. Derek. Not some preppy looking model, but a real man.

  “Why are you staring at me?” Derek put his menu down and settled back in his seat.

  “Sorry.” She felt her cheeks color and looked away so he wouldn’t notice. She was not a young blushing girl. She was a sophisticated businesswoman with a good head on her shoulders, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and went after it.

  Her gaze returned to his and she gave him what she hoped was a sexy smile. “I have a very vivid imagination. You don’t skydive, do you?”

  “Not if I don’t have to.” He grinned. “If the plane was going down in flames I might think about it.”

  “Mountain climb?” She twirled her wineglass.

  “Nope. Don’t do that either.” He flicked back his hair, but it fell right back over his brow. “I’m just an average guy. Sorry if I disappointed you. Does this mean I don’t get to eat?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Christine licked her bottom lip. “And you aren’t average either. You are exactly what I’m looking for.” She saw his eyes widen with surprise—or with sexual interest--and she hastened to make her message clear. “I mean, the image I’m looking for.” She further qualified. “Rugged. Sexy. A little rough around the edges.”

  “Look, I know you mean that as a compliment, but I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve already given you a three week grace period before you need to cancel the ads.”

  “Derek, that’s a problem, you see.” She cleared her throat. “It was extremely kind of you to allow me to use the ads, but I’m very reluctant to pull them because they have generated quite a few phone calls. The phone was ringing all day; women who saw the ad were eager to sign up.” She crossed her knees instead of her fingers, knowing the little white lie would never be discovered. “You have already got my business off to a successful start, and I know that if I could use you in all our ads and have your face on our website, well then, we might be able to start making money in a year or two.”

  “A year or two? How can you keep it afloat that long without money coming in?”

  “I have my own money invested and the bank gave me a line of credit. It’s going to take some time to get enough clients to turn this into a moneymaker, but once I do, I just know it will really take off.”

  “Isn’t that kind of a scary proposition? What if you fail?”

  “I won’t. I can’t.” A dull flush rose from her neck and covered her cheeks. She could feel the warmth spread like a rash. “I don’t fail. I can make this happen and I will.”

  “Now, there’s a woman with confidence,” he said with a wry smile. “So why do you bite your nails?”

  “I don’t.” She hid her hands in her lap. “Getting back to you.” She lifted her chin with defiance, and her eyes held his. “I like your looks. It’s perfect for the image I hope to create. Please say you’ll let me use your face in future ads and on our website. I want face recognition so that when a person sees you, they will think Champagne.”

  “No way.”

  She ground her teeth and felt her stubbornness start to prevail. Her spine straightened. “There has to be a way. What will it take to get you to say yes?”

  Flashing him her prettiest smile, she noticed his gaze drop to her mouth. His eyes lingered there and she knew he was thinking about kissing her. She pushed the advantage. “You have the right look for the age group I’m targeting.”

  “Still not interested.”

  “Really?” She pursed her lips and sighed. Stretched just a little so that her jacket opened and the outline of her breasts would show. Damn him. Making her use her feminine wiles to try to seal a deal. Why couldn’t they agree, shake hands, and be done? Straight forward, businesslike. Instead, she was being all coy and sweet, wetting her lips and showing him some cleavage.

  Oh, well. If it got her what she wanted, it was worth the humiliation.

  She let a sigh escape. “That’s okay, I suppose. I really do want someone who’s more the adventurous type.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t adventurous.” He sat up straighter, and his shoulders seemed to double in size. She watched the fabric stretch across his chest, and was afraid for his jacket.

  “Oh, I thought you did.”

  “I like adventure. I don’t like the idea of being your model. One has nothing to do with the other.” The lines around his eyes deepened and crinkled. He looked hunkier than ever, and it infuriated her. Why should a man look better with wrinkles, when women got replaced at the first signs of aging?

  “How old are you, Derek?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “To get Champagne flowing, I’m targeting a specific age group. The mid-thirties to late-forties are probably where I’d find the greatest number of people searching for that special someone and with enough disposable income that they can afford a dating service like mine.”

  “I’m forty,” he replied.

  Ah, he was five years younger than she. No wonder he looked so good. He was still a pup. She leaned back in her chair. He would easily attract women from their late twenties up to their late-forties. While she would only attr
act men from fifty to sixty. Oh, life wasn’t fair!

  “So tell me.” Her tone turned businesslike. “What do you like to do?”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. He laughed and she frowned. “You’re asking me that?”

  “I’m asking for you to respond like a gentleman, not a hormonal teenager.”

  “Ouch.” He drank his Scotch. “You aren’t exactly a fun date, are you?”

  “I’m not a date.”

  He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and looked at her. His eyes, like melted chocolate, never left her face. Something inside of her felt as though she’d been physically touched. Instead of feeling violated, it was more of a warm caress.

  “That shouldn’t stop us from enjoying the evening, should it?” He picked up his drink, shook the ice, and put it back down. “What did you mean when you say you’re looking for a guy who’s adventurous?”

  “I don’t know. You’re rugged, that’s for sure, but I’d like someone who doesn’t mind taking a risk.”

  “Well, I’m not Crocodile Dundee, but I like most things. Play some golf, pretty decent at tennis, I scuba dive. The rest I watch on TV.”

  He drained his glass.

  She watched his throat move as he swallowed. Women usually had nice necks, and it was not something she normally would think about with a man, but his was, all told, rather appealing. Smooth as though freshly shaved, and tanned from long hours in the sun.

  Her fingers played with the stem of her wineglass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you were boring. I was just thinking aloud. If you won’t be our mascot, then I’ll have to find someone else.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, I guess you will. So what do we do now?” His eyes searched hers. “Maybe we should call it a night. Let each other off the hook.”

  Disappointment slapped her in the face. She didn’t want to call it a night. Suddenly, she very much wanted to prolong it. “No, please stay and have dinner with me. I haven’t been out for awhile, and I would love a beautiful rack of lamb, some lovely red wine, and an enjoyable conversation with an attractive man. Won’t you join me?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re playing me?”

  “I’m not. I want to enjoy the evening, that’s all.” She didn’t want another night eating alone. But more importantly, she didn’t intend to let Derek get away. Sliding her hand over his, she gave it a gentle squeeze. “I railroaded you into this and you got even with me, so here we are.”

  “You think that’s what happened?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Are you sorry you agreed?”

  “Not yet.” Her gaze slid across his face. “Let’s not discuss business again tonight, okay?”

  “I’m in agreement with that.” He winked and picked up a menu. “And I’m staying if you’re buying. Shall we have a look?”

  Since she already knew what she wanted she pretended to study the wine list, but her gaze kept wandering to him. He could have chosen a date with Kelly or Amy; both women were prettier and younger than she. Why her? What was his agenda?

  Christine cleared her throat. “I know why you insisted on me as your date, and I totally get it. You were getting back at me for making you do something you didn’t want to do. But Kelly was definitely disappointed.”

  “Not interested.”

  “What about Amy? She’s gorgeous.”

  “Still not interested.”

  Her pulse raced at his words. The idea that he wasn’t attracted to her young stylists was refreshing, to say the least. He seemed to be a very likeable guy. Likeable? Whoa, wait a minute. Slow down. He was a man, remember? Charming, sexy, beddable, but definitely not trustworthy. Hadn’t she learned anything?

  She licked her lips. Straightened her shoulders. “Well, if you think for one second that I’m interested, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Christine. I don’t think you’re interested in anything but your damn business.”

  “Good. I’m not.” She glanced around the room, looking for the waiter, and lowered her voice. “I don’t mind sharing drinks and a few laughs with a guy now and then, but that’s it. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Then we understand each other perfectly and can have a good time.”

  He tilted his empty glass in her direction. “Yes, agreed. To good times.” His eyes held a dare as he stared at her mouth, and she could feel warmth slide up from her knees to the tips of her hair.

  “I only meant—

  “I know what you meant. And the reason I picked you for my date, if you really want to know, is because I had the feeling you might be more fun.”

  “Oh, is that so?” He did? She gulped and felt a faint flutter in her stomach. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the way this was supposed to go. She had to be in control, but her breathing was all messed up.

  “Are you flirting with me?” she asked. A small part of her—her brain--was hoping for a no, while all the rest of her was hoping for a yes.

  “And what if I am?” Those warm brown eyes of his were doing things to her again. She could feel the visual caress all the way to her toes.

  She licked her lips, and his gaze followed the movement. “I don’t know. But it might be better to keep things professional between us.” Not as much fun, perhaps, but definitely more sensible.

  “Shucks.” He grinned. “I was hoping for some wild sex between courses.”

  She laughed. “Uh, sorry, I already worked up an appetite. Let’s order dinner, shall we?”

  He ordered onion soup and she had a salad, then they both had the rack of lamb. Over dinner he told her how his construction business had flourished and that he’d sold it at exactly the right time, before real estate came to a grinding halt.

  “Like other builders in Florida, we built on spec and couldn’t build fast enough to supply all the buyers. I needed to sell because of personal reasons, and I got out before the hurricanes hit and the economy headed south, and everybody started dumping their property. The poor guy who bought my business is left with a mess. I’m helping him the best I can, but there’re too many empty houses, no buyers, and skeletal buildings left to rot.”

  He told her his wife had died two and a half years ago after losing a battle to cancer. He didn’t go into details and she didn’t pry. It was obvious from the way he spoke that his feelings still ran deep.

  “I have a daughter, Nicole,” she said, “and she’s the light of my life, but I’m afraid she’s doing her rebellious thing.” She told him how Nicole had dropped out of college to live with her boyfriend.

  They shared a bottle of red wine and some funny stories about their respective children as they ate. Derek didn’t seem to be aware that his foot kept touching hers, but she was. She was very much aware of it.

  She left her foot exactly where it was and leaned forward, noticing how his gaze drifted to her cleavage every once in a while. It felt good to be appreciated, and she was woman enough to know when a man found her attractive. It had been a long time since she felt desirable, and she wasn’t in a rush to end the moment.

  She enjoyed listening to him talk about his boys, she liked the sound of his laughter ringing out, and the way his smile was reflected in his eyes.

  By now she knew Kevin was a star basketball player and going to college next year. Derek was hoping he’d pick Miami, but the Indiana Hoosiers were after him, and his heart was set on going to Indiana University. Kyle was a hot-shot tennis player, a master chess player, and a practical jokester.

  It was obvious how much he adored his sons and that they were the center of his world. As they talked, Christine was impressed with what she saw in him. He was a loving father and a caring, generous man, and of course that was why they were having dinner instead of his suing her mother and his aunt. He would never have done that. She knew that now. He’d been bluffing, hoping she’d pull the future ads.

  Not that there were any future ads, and
she was glad she hadn’t known that. If she’d agreed to his demand, they wouldn’t be here right now. And Derek intrigued her. Well, to be truthful, he did more than that. He excited her, and she hadn’t been excited since...since... she couldn’t remember when.

  “I’m enjoying this more than I expected,” she told him after the waiter had cleared their plates.

  “Me too.”

  Their eyes met and held for longer than was necessary. She wondered if he was feeling the same thing she was. That almost giddy excitement when you meet someone you’re attracted to and know that it might lead to lovemaking. She felt a tingling in places that hadn’t tingled for a long time, and a curiosity that hadn’t been aroused for even longer.

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him and to feel his hands on her? She hadn’t been kissed since her husband walked out on her. That is, if you didn’t count that ill-advised one-night stand she had soon after Jim left, and Christine adamantly did not count it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready to meet anyone, but the simple fact was she didn’t want another man in her life. The one she'd had, had hurt her enough. Protecting her heart outweighed getting laid.

  Derek's chocolate-colored eyes fastened on hers, and she couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about. All she could think of was…

  His lips were moving. She tried to concentrate on his words instead of wondering how those lips would taste.

  “--this is presumptuous of me,” he was saying, “but I want to continue this evening. Smack me if I’m wrong, but I would like to kiss you and I think you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said tartly, trying to keep from melting right there in her chair. “I don’t kiss men on first dates, or after discussing business.” But she knew her eyes gave her away. And she couldn’t stop the fluttering inside of her that reminded her of when she was young, full of hope and sweet dreams.

  She wished she wasn’t a closet romantic because she prided her common sense. The two sides of her personality were constantly at war with the other, and she wanted the thinking person side to prevail, and the hopeless romantic to crawl back inside and die. Unfortunately, it wasn’t showing signs of it anytime soon.