Over 40 And Head Over Heels: BWWM, Over 40's, Billionaire Romance (BWWM Romance Book 1)

by Ellie Etienne

  Chapter 8

  "What?"

  "Well?"

  Tamara frowned, holding her phone.

  It was about ten. She'd slept for three hours and at least her headache was a lot better. If only everything else in her life could get sorted out just as easily, wouldn't that be nice.

  "Are you serious?" she asked Dave.

  Who had called her.

  Yet again.

  "I am. You do need to eat, don't you? Or are two bites of potato salad enough for the day for you?"

  Her stomach growled as if in response.

  "I don't need you to feed me."

  "I don't think you do, but it would be nice."

  Tamara frowned some more.

  "You want us to have dinner now."

  "We can talk about Meghan," said Dave, and Tamara's eyes narrowed, even if he couldn't see it.

  "I will not discuss anything she's told me."

  "Okay, so we don't have to talk about Meghan. We'll talk about you."

  "What?"

  "Why not? I want to know more about you."

  "Because I'm your daughter's therapist? I'm pretty sure you ran a background check on me before you brought her to me!"

  Dave had the nerve to laugh.

  "I did. You're a very difficult woman, Tamara. All right, then, I want to have dinner with you because I like to finish what I start and we didn't get to have that meal together earlier."

  Tamara was getting a little tired of the games.

  "Dave, look..."

  "Please."

  Tamara stopped talking.

  She didn't think Dave was very used to saying please. She rather imagined Dave was used to issuing orders and expecting that they would be carried out.

  "Dinner, now?"

  "I can pick you up in half an hour."

  "Where?"

  "Wherever you like, Tamara."

  She had to smile. It must be nice to be able to say something like that with such confidence.

  "All right," she decided suddenly. Why not? If she stayed home, she would probably boil an egg and have a tomato to go with it just because she needed to eat something. Then she would sit and brood about Terry, and her father, and Tricia. And her mother.

  God, her mother.

  She would have to deal with it the next day. She needed a break from it all.

  Dave was offering one.

  It was just dinner.

  Why not?

  "Half an hour?" asked Dave.

  "Sure, I can be ready in half an hour. Nothing fancy, please. I don't want to get all dressed up. Something casual."

  "I can do casual. Half an hour," said Dave, and hung up.

  It took Tamara's brain about ten seconds to really catch up.

  Oh God.

  Oh shit.

  She'd just said she would go out to dinner with Dave Wilson and Felicity was off on her vacation with her latest toy boy!

  Oh no.

  She'd been crazy enough to agree to meet him in half an hour!

  She made a mad rush for her bedroom, yanked her closet open and looked at it.

  Okay. Okay, so it was a warm summer night, so a nice cotton dress would be good enough, with a sweater over it because it could get a bit brisk. Shoes—something casual, low heels, no straps.

  She picked out her outfit and closed the closet before she could change her mind and second-guess herself because she really didn't have time to change her mind.

  The pretty pink dress was deep enough to make her skin glow. The cut was cinched in at the waist, and used her rather elegant lines very well. The shoes were comfortable wedges, in ivory, because she loved them.

  The sweater was a bold green, because it suited her, too.

  It took her fifteen minutes to get her hair tidy and dress, which left her with about ten minutes to do her face.

  She'd lived four decades and they hadn't all been easy ones. She had a few lines to show that she'd laughed and cried, and maybe frowned a bit too much. She wouldn't regret any of them.

  She wouldn't try to smooth them away, either.

  But she did have enough vanity to make her dark eyes pop with a deft hand and a good eye for colors, and she did like an excuse to use one of her darker red lipsticks that she never used when she was working.

  It was exactly 29 minutes later when her phone rang again.

  "I'm outside the building. Would you like me to come up?"

  "No!" yelped Tamara, forgetting her dignity for just a split second.

  She felt like a teenager going out on a date. There were actual butterflies in her stomach.

  Oh dear.

  "No, I'm fine. I'm ready. I'm coming down."

  "All right, then. I'm in the Jag."

  "You're in the what?"

  "Black Jaguar," he clarified, and hung up.

  Well, then. That was one way to be reminded that he was from a completely different world. Spending the day at his home hadn't quite done that, despite the celebrities who'd flitted in and out the whole time she was there. She'd been far too caught up with Meghan and with Dave himself to really pay attention to them. She hadn't had the bandwidth to be star struck, to be honest.

  The home itself hadn't done that, either. It was beautiful, but it felt like home. It was warm and welcoming. Even when she'd been opening what felt like door after door on the second floor, she hadn't felt out of place.

  But now, the casual mention of a Jaguar, a car that her ex-husband had once taken a hefty loan to buy, a loan she'd had to pay off, did it.

  Well, it was too late to back out now, and honestly, she preferred the company of a billionaire to that of her own thoughts right at that moment.

  So she squared her shoulders, had a short but stern word with the butterflies in her stomach, and went out to meet the man she was still reluctant to admit she was very much interested in. Far too much.

  ***

  Dave watched her walking out and felt something loosen inside him, and then it tightened up again.

  He hadn't been able to rest. He hadn't been able to relax.

  The very idea that he needed to spend time with somebody else was absurd, of course. He'd spent years since Abby had left him to make sure that he needed nobody else.

  So he'd let his thoughts drift elsewhere instead, and he'd found them settling on the good doctor.

  She intrigued him.

  She was beautiful, of course she was, but his home had been filled with beautiful people all day. None of them had drawn his eye the way Tamara had.

  She'd handled herself with the kind of dignity that he had once envied, a long time ago. She'd been there for a party and she'd ended up being there for Meghan instead.

  She confused him.

  She'd asked absolutely nothing of him, and yet she'd given him more than any of the people in his life had given him, in just one day.

  So he'd decided to do what he did best: he'd decided to figure her out. Of course, he had no doubts that he'd be able to do that.

  He leaned over to open the door when Tamara reached the car, her eyes glowing, her face a little uncertain.

  "I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind."

  "I wouldn't just change my mind like that, not without telling you, at least."

  "Really?"

  She got in, put her seatbelt on without being told, moving with the elegant efficiency that he was beginning to really appreciate. It was in everything she did, and in every way she moved.

  It made him think of other ways she might move. He let his mind dwell there for just a few seconds before yanking it back.

  "Of course. Where are we going?"

  "How do you feel about tacos?"

  "Tacos?"

  "I know a place, the best tacos I've ever had. They have a family recipe that they guard like it's gold."

  "I imagine it's more precious. Did you offer to buy it?"

  He grinned.

  He was already feeling much better. This was a novel experience indeed. It was st
range to be disapproved of quite so obviously.

  "Maybe."

  He shifted the car into gear and moved out into the street, handling the car with the smooth ease with which he handled everything.

  "And failed?"

  "Obviously."

  "I like the place already. And the people. Tacos sound good."

  "You look great."

  "I... Oh. Thank you. I... You look nice, too."

  He grinned.

  Oh yes, he was feeling a lot better now.

  "It's not often you're at a loss for words, is it? Does being complimented do that to you often?"

  She smiled, a soft smile that did more things to his gut, that sent his mind to how elegantly she moved again.

  "I... Well, I wasn't expecting... Actually, nothing about this day has turned out the way I expected it to. It's been something else. I'm not sure what else to expect now, to be honest."

  "Good or bad?"

  "What?"

  "Good or bad?" he repeated.

  She considered.

  "I don't know. It's just been... Well, I think we both need a break from our lives, so that's not what we want to talk about, is it?"

  Dave tilted his head as he nosed his way through traffic, deftly finding spaces, moving as if following his own rules made more sense than the official laws. He did often consider rules to be more like guidelines when it came to how they affected him. Even if he expected others to follow the rules. Especially his rules.

  "I guess this is also a bit of an apology. You were supposed to have a good time today, and you didn't. So now I can make sure you have a better time, at least."

  Tamara chuckled.

  "You're lying."

  "I'm what?"

  "You're lying. Well, not completely, I guess you do feel uncomfortable about how the day turned out, but I doubt that's because I didn't have a good enough time. It doesn't matter. As it happens, I need this too."

  "It occurs to me that you know more about me than I know about you."

  "After that background check?" scoffed Tamara. "I doubt it."

  "Are you really going to hold that against me? Ah, here we are."

  He watched as Tamara's face lit up as he parked.

  "Rosa!" she squealed as she leapt out of the car, much to his discomfiture, and ran to the woman who stood on the sidewalk, saying goodbye to a customer.

  Well, then, this wasn’t going to be a mind-blowingly fabulous surprise that would have her falling into his arms reeling from sheer gastronomic euphoria, then.

  Good to know.

  They were chattering away in Spanish, as if they were long-lost cousins who'd finally been reunited after many tragic years apart.

  He parked the car, got out, and went to them.

  “Dave.”

  “Rosa. It’s been a long time.”

  “A very long time. Meg came here once, with friends.”

  “She did?”

  “She ate too much and nearly had to be carried out,” said Rosa with a smile.

  It was impossible not to smile back when Rosa smiled at you like that. She was the most open, most accepting, most generous woman he'd ever met. Abby and he had come there for their first real date, a long time ago. So long ago.

  They were ushered in and given a table—not the one he and Abby had once considered theirs, thankfully—and denied menus because they would eat tacos that Rosa would put together herself.

  “Thank you, Rosa.”

  “And by the way, tell that no-good ex-husband of yours that his smiles won’t serve as currency anymore,” said Rosa.

  He watched as Tamara froze.

  Rosa softened.

  “It’s not on you what he does, my girl. It never was. It's been years, when will you learn that his consequences are his own?”

  Rosa turned and walked away.

  “Sounds like she gave you a dose of your own medicine,” Dave pointed out with an admittedly smug grin.

  Tamara smiled, but it was strained at the corners.

  “So, this ex-husband of yours—is he why you’re so wound up?”

  Tamara hesitated a second before shaking her head.

  “Now you’re the one lying,” he accused, and that teased a surprised smile from her.

  “Some bonds can’t be broken. We’re not married anymore, we haven’t been married for a long time, but... But it is what it is. He's a part of my life.”

  “Why?”

  Tamara frowned, as if it was a ridiculous question.

  “What do you mean, why?”

  “You don’t have children. The background check.”

  He noticed the shadow, even if it was swift and gone almost before he could blink.

  “I don’t. I guess I should be thankful for that. You see, I know what it’s like to be the child of a broken marriage and acrimonious divorce. I didn’t want that to happen to my children.”

  “So you... never had children?”

  Dave frowned. He might not be a therapist, but that definitely sounded a bit ass-backwards to him.

  “It turned out to be a good decision.”

  “So do you think all the children who come to you who have divorced parents are badly off?”

  “What? Oh, no. It's always difficult for them, of course, but you can’t hide unhappiness and bitterness from children. They pick up on far more than you think they do. If the marriage is unhappy, it’s better to separate when you can still find a way to be civil with each other.”

  “Then I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t understand what?”

  “Why you chose not to have children and why you’re still bonded to your ex-husband, as you put it.”

  “It’s what you’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to stay on good terms with your ex-husband after a divorce. It shows maturity and good sense.”

  Dave shook his head.

  “Staying in any contact with anybody who makes you unhappy is a bad idea. It’s neither good sense nor maturity,” he countered.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You expect the world to rearrange itself according to your sense of order no matter what.”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t see what’s wrong with that if you can make that happen.”

  “I bet you don’t. I...”

  He was glad that they were interrupted by Rosa who brought them tacos and two beers, because he had a feeling he escaped quite the lecture.

  “You need to eat more, Mara. You’re too skinny. I swear, girl, you just get skinnier and skinnier as you grow older.”

  “Please don’t remind me of the older part, Rosa. I’m forty now.”

  “Forty is the new thirty. Maybe even the new twenty if you put some effort into it. Eat up, now. Dave, you'll bring Meg here for dinner one of these days,” ordered Rosa.

  Dave grinned.

  “I will.”

  Rosa nodded, and walked away.

  Tamara took a bite of her shrimp taco and sighed deeply.

  “I missed this. I stopped coming here for a while. I’m ashamed now, I can’t believe I nearly gave this up for... for no good reason.”

  Dave grinned and watched as sheer gastronomic—euphoria exactly of the kind he’d predicted—was written all over her face. But he found that he enjoyed seeing her that happy, that carefree, without getting anything else out of it.

  “I’ve missed this, too.”

  The words were out before he could stop them. When they were said, he realized that he didn’t want to stop them. He had missed it, he'd missed this simple joy.

  What else had he missed?

  What else did he want?

  He wanted her, this woman who had no trouble telling him he was wrong. He wasn’t used to that, either.

  “Isn’t it odd that we both knew this place? Well, from before it became one of the best kept secret things, we knew it way back when.”

  Dave smiled, glad that this wouldn’t ruin the evening.

  “I suppose. We m
ight even have run into each other back then. Would we have known?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t think we’d remember now. I was wrapped up in my own world back then.”

  “Weren’t we all? This is the only restaurant where we brought Meg for a long time. She was a bit of a cranky baby. Abby was an angel with her, but other than Abby and Martha, I think only Rosa could handle Meg back then.”

  Tamara grinned.

  “I suppose she takes after you and not her mother in that.”

  Dave laughed.

  “I suppose she does. I’ve been described as difficult all my life.”

  “And you quite enjoy it, don't you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t think I can finish all of this, but Rosa will have my hide if I don’t,” complained Tamara.

  Dave grabbed one of Tamara’s tacos and shoved it in his mouth, making her giggle.

  “You’re going to have to hit the gym for that.”

  He swallowed too quickly, took a swig from his bottle to clear his throat, and grinned at her.

  “Then I’d better make it worth it. How about dessert?”

  “I don’t usually...”

  “I think it’s about time you indulged a bit more, don’t you?”

  She didn’t know what got into her.

  “Why not?” she said, feeling reckless, and found herself being swept away into the night chasing the best ice cream in the city. He took her to Chinatown where he bought her ice cream cone that lived up to its promise, and they sat on the sidewalk by a road that was lit so brightly it might as well have been day and ate ice cream. They walked along lanes where she would have thought he would be a fish out of water, but it seemed as if he could make himself fit in anywhere at all.

  He surprised her by speaking Cantonese extremely well, and being welcomed like a long-lost regular into a bar that looked decidedly shadier than anything she was used to.

  It was two in the morning when she found herself walking back to the car with him and he reached for her hand.

  She didn’t pull away. She accepted the little shock that jolted her when their fingers met, then laced, and he pulled her closer to him, leaning towards her to press a soft kiss to her hair that had her breath catching at its gentleness.

  “Tamara,” he whispered when they got to the car. He turned, leaning her against the car, his body, long and lean, so close to hers.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had an evening like this before. A night like this before,” she admitted, breathless like an inexperienced girl as she breathed in the scent of him, the musky hints of his cologne, the parts that were just him. She wanted to breathe him in.