Risk Taker

by Kelly Collins

  “I’ve only met him one time, but they look nice together, and Emma seems taken with him.”

  “What about you, Katarina? Is there someone special in your life?” He appears genuinely interested in my response, though I can’t imagine why.

  “No. I’m single. How about you?”

  “I rarely date. In fact, I have a strong personal policy against it, but there is one woman I’m attracted to. Unfortunately, she doesn’t seem interested.” He toys with me.

  “Maybe she doesn’t understand you. I mean, if you offered her money to be with you, then she’d think it was a business transaction, but if you ask her out, she may consider a date.”

  “Is that right? I’d have thought the compensation would be a clincher for most girls. I have to admit, I’m rusty on the dating scene, but heard women were attracted to money and flowers and all that nonsense.”

  I stabbed a piece of broccoli and held it in the air. “There’s your problem. You think romance is nonsense, and with that attitude, you’ll never get a date. As for money … I make my own and don’t need a man for that.”

  “Maybe it’s in her best interest to stay clear of me. I’m a mess and can’t offer her what she needs.”

  “You’ll never know until you try, but that would require some of that romantic nonsense you’re averse to.”

  Damon faces me and takes my hands in his. “Can I try something? It’s just an experiment, but if it goes the way I think it will, then you and I will have a longer conversation. If you feel nothing, then walk away, and I’ll leave you alone.”

  In the next instant, his hand wraps around the back of my neck and pulls me toward him. Soft lips brush mine as his velveteen tongue coaxes my lips apart.

  I feel something that travels from the tip of my head to my toes. It’s heat and need mixing with excitement and desire. The kiss deepens as our tongues mingle, and a muffled moan slides up my throat only to be swallowed by him.

  Seconds later, Damon breaks our connection. “Tell me you didn’t feel that.” His eyes bore into mine as he waits for my answer.

  “Oh, I felt something all right, but I think it was your tongue down my throat.” I smile at my attempt at humor.

  “You wound me.” He places both of his hands over his heart. “I’ve been told I’m a good kisser. Have I been lied to?”

  “I have so little to go off of. Maybe I could sample another kiss to make an educated decision.”

  He needs no further enticement and possesses my mouth completely. The passion in his kiss is overwhelming, and I’m forced to shove against his chest to break the seal. The moment his mouth leaves mine, I regret pushing him away. If I could only learn how to breathe around this man, I’d sit and kiss him all day long.

  “And the verdict is?” he asks.

  I waffle slightly before I answer. “Whoa. You can definitely kiss. I don’t think my toes have curled from a kiss before.”

  Damon smiles and pulls me to his chest. I inhale the scent of him while he gently rubs my back. “You are unique among the women I’ve met—so open and honest.”

  “I don’t know if I should relax in your arms or run for the door. Being here excites and scares the hell out of me at the same time.”

  Squeezing tighter, as if to hold me forever, he says, “You’re a smart girl, Katarina, and you should run for your life, but I hope you stay.”

  My decision is made when I melt against him, and the tension releases from my body.

  He sinks against the sofa back and holds me in silence until the intercom buzzes.

  Greta’s voice breaks the tranquility to inform Damon that his two o’clock appointment has arrived.

  “I have to take this meeting.” He looks at me with hope. “I can pick you up for dinner tonight at six if that works for you.”

  With a nod of my head, I walk with him to the door. He steps aside to let me pass, and I feel the weight of his gaze as I exit his office and skip all the way to the garage.

  Chapter Five

  After a forty-minute drive home, I enter an empty house and race for the shower. “I’m having dinner with Damon Noble!” I scream.

  In my addle-minded state, I never asked where we were going, and don’t know what to wear. The weather is pleasant enough, and my royal-blue maxi dress will have to do. I leave my hair down and apply light makeup. Damon seems to like that I’m authentic, so tonight there’s no ball gown and professionally applied makeup. What he sees is what he gets—no bells and whistles.

  With twenty minutes to wait, I grab Emma’s copy of Bound. Armed with the book and a diet soda, I sink comfortably into the couch and read.

  Time passes quickly as I lose myself in the story, and when the doorbell rings, I earmark the page and set the book down in the center of the coffee table.

  I answer and find Damon dressed in slacks, a button-down shirt, and a sports coat. He looks upscale casual. He follows me into the house.

  “Let me get a sweater, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  His eyes run the length of me, and as he looks at my face, a smile unfolds—first in his eyes, then on his lips.

  When I return from my room, I find him sitting comfortably on the couch with the book in his hands. There’s a look of fascination on his face as he flips through the pages.

  “It’s Emma’s. I was passing the time. Have you heard of it?” I ask, slightly embarrassed to have him find a sex-filled novel on my table.

  “Who hasn’t heard of it? It’s been a number one seller this whole year. Are you reading it?”

  With a shrug, I say, “Yes. I started it this afternoon while I waited for you to arrive.”

  “And?”

  “So far, it’s entertaining. What’s most intriguing is that Friday, you made a comment that was like one I read in the book.”

  “Really? What was it?”

  “Something about having unconventional tastes. I got the impression we weren’t talking about dessert.”

  “You’re a perceptive woman. Don’t worry about my specific tastes. I don’t gravitate toward floggers and hot wax, but I’m open to suggestions and experimentation if that’s your desire. We can discuss our specifics at dinner.”

  Surprised by his response, I shift from foot to foot. “I can assure you I do not long to be tied up and tortured.”

  “I don’t know, a little bondage could be fun.” He appears to enjoy this exchange. It’s as if my discomfort entertains him. “Shall we go? I made reservations at my favorite Italian restaurant. Do you like Italian food?”

  “I love it. Do they have good lasagna?”

  “The best I’ve ever had.”

  We drive in Damon’s silver Mustang to a restaurant called Tony’s, where we’re ushered to a corner table toward the back of the dining room.

  He helps me into my seat and sits beside me rather than across from me. It’s a small place with red-checkered tablecloths and pictures of various Italian landmarks like the Tower of Pisa and the Trevi Fountain. Garlic floats through the air mixing with the sound of Frank Sinatra and clinking plates.

  “If you take your wallet out to pay for anything besides dinner,” I say, “I’ll beat you. Do you understand?”

  “I think you’ve been reading too much of that book I found on your table.” His hand covers mine. “I won’t guarantee that I won’t pay for things, but I promise I won’t offer to pay for your time tonight. Can we agree to that?”

  “It’s a start. Now let’s order dinner before I get hangry.”

  “We can’t have that.” He flags down the waiter, and we order a starter and our meal.

  The restaurant fills with people as we nibble on antipasto salad and calamari. A soft murmur of conversation surrounds us as we talk about mundane things like the weather.

  “What do you think of the food?” He wipes his mouth and sets his napkin on the table. “I found this place several years ago, and it’s my go-to for authentic Italian.”

  “It’s amazing. Just the right amount of ga
rlic on everything. Sometimes you go to these places and taste the garlic for days—no one can stand to be around you, but this is great. Thanks for inviting me.”

  All throughout dinner, Damon and I unconsciously take turns staring at one another. His blue eyes pierce mine, and I melt for him.

  “Tell me about your family, Katarina. I want to know everything about you.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. I’m the second child of Mike and Marion Cross and have an older brother named Chris. Yep, I know—don’t say it. He caught a lot of crap for having the name Chris Cross even though the duo spells their name Kris Kross.” I raise my hands in the hair and sing Jump. This causes a giggle as I remember how much shit my brother got because of his name. “My dad is an accountant, and my mom is a stay-at-home wife. Chris is a loan officer for a large bank. We grew up in Arcadia, where my parents still live in my childhood home.”

  “What were you like as a teenager? What were your hobbies?”

  “I was like most teens. I had big dreams and limited potential, but I grew into myself. High school track kept me busy, and I still run several days a week. My college graduation is in May, and I hope to find a job as an event planner. I’d also entertain the possibility of being in management, but I don’t know if I have the skills to lead a group of people. Seeing you today at your office was inspiring because you’re so confident and capable. How do you make it look so easy?”

  “It’s more about the people you surround yourself with than anything else. I hire capable people, and they do their jobs well. You should contact our human resources department. They may have an opening in your area of expertise. I’m co-branding with Anthony Haywood, and we’re ramping up for the grand opening of Ahz.”

  “Emma said something about that. You’re so young and have accomplished so much. I want to know more about you, Damon.”

  He hesitates for a moment as if deciding what he wants to tell me. I can see the indecision in his eyes until he exhales and speaks.

  “You met my mom. She’s on the board of directors at the hospital and has spent her life dedicated to finding a cure for cancer. My father died from lung cancer when I was a young boy. I was twelve when he passed.” His fingers tap on the table. “I made my original investment money from being a DJ. I spent my youth in clubs and paid attention. I developed a successful business model and opened my first club when I was twenty. Now I’m twenty-nine, and I’m expanding into other territories.” He lifts his hands in the air. “The rest is history. There are nineteen Zeniths across the world. Only two are outside of the United States. One is in London, and the other is in Paris. I grew up in Brentwood, live off Mulholland Drive, and went to UCLA like you.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  “I am now,” he says. His voice short and stilted.

  I don’t respond, because I hope he elaborates. I believe a person should be able to tell as much or as little as they feel comfortable. I’m not a person to pry, even though I want to know so much more about Damon.

  He cautiously considers his next sentence. “I had an older brother who died from leukemia when I was twenty.”

  I reach out my hand and place it over his. “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

  “More so than you can imagine, but it was a long time ago. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Okay, why don’t you date? You’re a handsome man with a charming personality. Fill me in.”

  “I have had the pleasure of escorting many beautiful women to various places, but I don’t do the dating thing. I can’t make the commitment it requires to maintain a healthy relationship. There isn’t enough time to do it all, and I’ve got other priorities.”

  It’s the other things that are his problem. Everyone can make time to build a friendship, but something tells me Damon is not sharing everything, and that’s okay, that’s his prerogative.

  “Would you like dessert?” he asks.

  My mind is elsewhere, and I barely register his question. Shaking my head, I try to clear the errant thoughts from my brain. “What?”

  “Would you like dessert?”

  “Um … no, I’m good.”

  “Coffee, then?”

  “That I’ll have because I have a test tomorrow and will undoubtedly stay up late studying.”

  We sit tucked in the corner of a tiny Italian bistro sipping coffee. Damon drinks his black while I take mine with a dash of cream. Not enough to make it white, but enough to cut the bitterness.

  “Thanks for having dinner with me tonight.” He turns his cup round and round on the saucer, then stops and pins me with a questioning look. “Can we talk about earlier?”

  I play dumb and pretend like I don’t know what he’s talking about, although I know it’s the intoxicating kiss we shared in his office.

  “What are you referring to?”

  “You can’t sit here and pretend we don’t share a physical attraction. Kissing you is like being hit by a train.”

  “Is that supposed to flatter me? If so, you need to work on your wooing.”

  “A lovely woman once told me flattery will get me nowhere.”

  I made a pfft sound. “She was crazy. Flattery from you might get you somewhere.”

  He placed both hands flat on the table. “Herein lies the problem. I want to see you again, but I can’t give you what you want.” He moves one hand to take mine in his. “I enjoy the time we spend together. You make me feel something I haven’t felt in years.” Looking into my eyes, he asks, “What would it take for you to consider seeing me regularly? Not dating, but something we can mutually agree on.”

  I sit at the checkered table, shocked. This man can’t possibly be that stupid. I mean, he runs a multimillion-dollar company for God’s sake.

  Pulling my hand from his, I respond, “We’re back to a business transaction?” My heart plummets to the pit of my gut. “I’m not interested. You’re a nice man and an excellent kisser, but I’m not for sale or rent.” I toss my napkin on the table. “I’m ready to leave if you’re still willing to take me home. Otherwise, I’ll have the restaurant call me a cab.”

  “No, I’ll take you. You should study and get rest before your class tomorrow.”

  I nod in agreement. What an idiot I was to think I could have someone like him. I don’t know if I’m angrier with myself or Damon.

  He helps with my sweater, letting his hand linger on my bare arm while he slides up the sleeve. A buzz of energy runs through my body where he touches me. Reaching up, he pulls my hair out of the sweater, so it hangs loosely around my shoulders. With his hand placed firmly at the small of my back, he walks me outside and helps me into the car.

  We drive in silence all the way to Emma’s house. Once we arrive, I throw the door open and dash up the long walkway to our front door. I’ve had enough of Damon Noble for the night.

  But his long legs give him an edge as he catches up with me. Reaching out, he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him.

  “Wait. It doesn’t have to be like this. We could see each other, go out to dinner, and attend various functions, then you could quit your job at the coffee shop and invest time in your studies. It’s a win-win.”

  “Nothing about that scenario is a win for me. You get what you want, and I get a new boss. I trade my time for money and my soul for time with you. I like you, and I think there is definitely something between us that could have been explored, but we have different needs. I can’t give you what you want, and you won’t give me what I need. I’m sorry.”

  Looking at him, I see understanding in his sad eyes. Resignation is written all over his face.

  The tall, proud man gets smaller with every step he takes back to his car. He stops at his door and glances my way before he climbs inside and drives off.

  Chapter Six

  Em returns from Catalina on Thursday. Her skin is tanned to a golden brown, and her hair lightened to a strawberry blonde, but the most notable change is her eyes, which are bright and hap
py.

  “Oh, Kat, I think I’m in love. You wouldn’t believe what I experienced in Catalina.” She flops on the couch in front of me. “We stayed in a house by the seaport, sailing by day and snuggling at night. He cooked every meal for me. There is nothing sexier than a man in the kitchen.” She gushes nonstop, then asks, “How did your meeting with Damon go? Tell me everything.”

  I sit next to her, turning my body to face her. “Nothing happened. Just the normal stuff, like school and studying. I returned his money, we had lunch and dinner, and then he propositioned me again. He wants to rent me regularly. I told him no.”

  Her eyes bug out at my statement. “He didn’t!” Em knows me like the back of her hand and seems as appalled as I am.

  “He did.” I nod in affirmation. “Listen. He’s a complex man who kisses like a master, but I can’t settle for so little when I know I’d want so much more. There’s no reason to set myself up for such a disaster.”

  “Wait, I’m still at kisses like a master. You kissed him?” Em’s eyes looking for a clue to what I’m not telling her.

  “Yes. I kissed him twice in his office. The first was an experiment, and the second was to confirm my belief that he’s an excellent kisser.” A sigh deflates me. “When somebody kisses you like he kissed me, something happens to your insides. My toes curled, Em. I couldn’t survive too much of that and then have him dismiss me when he grew tired of me. I wouldn’t be able to stop my heart from getting involved.”

  “It sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought.” She looks mildly disappointed. “Too bad, because we could have double-dated.”