“Trust me, I wouldn’t mind a taste when the time’s right,” Jonas murmurs, causing me to blush furiously.
I groan. “I said all of that out loud?” Mortified, one hand comes up between us to cover my face while the other slams into his chest.
And feels the racing of his heart under my palm.
“Would you like to get to know me better, Ms. Paxton?” Jonas’s words wash over me, a sweet gauntlet tossed down between us.
And throwing all the reasons why I shouldn’t out the window, I answer, “Yes.”
“Then I’ll pick you up at seven.” Jonas leans down and brushes his lips against mine. He frowns for a moment. “I would have said it could have used a bit more salt.”
I grin against his lips before whispering, “I dare you to tell Elle that as I got my taste when she wiped a mouthful of it across my face.”
Wisely, he holds his tongue before bidding good night to us both. I can’t tear my eyes away from his long, lean-hipped body as he eats up the distance through the alley until Elle physically drags me away. “Trina, your mom,” she reminds me.
“Right. Let’s go get the kids.” We dash for the elevator. As the door close, I turn to her with an enormous smile on my face. “Did that just happen?”
“You’re damn right it did. Let’s go get your littles, then we’ll celebrate.”
And in between the second and third floors, I’m swept into my best friend’s arms, being spun around dancing as she yells, “Oh, my God!” loud enough to wake the dead.
But despite how my mother tries her damnedest to ruin my mood as I pick up my kids, I ignore it. Because no matter how it began, I’m not sure I could be brought down after the way tonight ended.
Chapter 15
Trina
“Shave!” Elle yells.
“Why?” I holler back through the glass door.
“Because it’s not right for a man to slide his hand up legs like yours and encounter fur.”
I choke on the mouthful of water I inhale as I duck my head under the water. “Who says it’s getting that far?” I shout back over the blast of Joan Jett Elle has blaring through her phone in my tiny bathroom.
“Girl, please. That man looked at you last night like he wanted to consume you.”
I pause in the process of raking my nails against my scalp. “Really?”
Then I take cover against the mermaid-frosted glass doors as a new plastic razor comes flying over the gap between the ceiling and the metal frame. “Shave. Everything,” Elle emphasizes.
Figuring it won’t hurt since I have more than the average few minutes allotted for my normal splash and dash to scrape the grime off after a shift is over, I bend over and pick up the pink razor. “Your safety skills suck. Maybe I should see if we need a remedial course in knife safety,” I chatter through my nerves. Quickly pushing my hair over one side, I grab my bottle of cheap conditioner and lather up my legs.
“Less talk and more action, Paxton. You’re on a schedule. Jonas is picking you up in ninety minutes.”
With a yelp, I begin dealing with the layer of hair on my legs. Hesitating half a heartbeat, I debate, “Should…”
“If it involves preparing yourself for a night—potentially all night—with the first guy I’ve seen catch your eye in forever, the answer is yes. Do it. Just hurry,” Elle pleads over the wail of a guitar riff.
Realizing I haven’t much time, I finish up. Turning off the taps, I step out of the shower, wrap myself in a towel, and lotion every inch of skin I can reach. “I can’t remember the last time I pampered myself like this.”
“And just think—” Elle steps up behind me armed with a spray bottle and a comb. “—you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Suddenly an overwhelming fear washes over me. “What the hell is that shit?”
“You won’t recognize your hair after this,” she assures me.
“Will I have any?” I take as big of a step back as I can manage in the space.
“Wait and see,” she says ominously, before dousing us both in a cloud of sweet-smelling fumes. Then she forces me onto the toilet and picks up a tweezer. “Now, hold still.”
“I’m afraid,” I admit.
“About your date?”
“No, about you wielding sharp implements near my face.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
“Or murder you in your sleep.”
She shrugs as if it makes no never mind. And then plucks the first hair out of my brow.
“Crap!” I use both hands and shove into her stomach. “Who agreed to this shit?”
“You did when you rolled over in the middle of the night—waking me from a sound sleep, mind you—desperation in your voice. ‘Elle, what do I do? I don’t know what to wear?’” she mimics my voice. Joan Jett has merged into Roxette, and Elle is getting into her groove as she aims toward my eyebrows again.
“Why can’t I do this on my own?”
“Because the look we’re going for is arched and sexy. I don’t want you to take off so much you look like you’re Elizabethan. The woman was a badass but she had no hair. Who cares if it was due to smallpox? It doesn’t help she looks like she chugged arsenic every time her portrait was painted.”
“Fair point.” Bravely, I lift my chin. “Do your worst.”
“Try my best.” Tipping up my chin, she puffs air into my face—an old trick I taught her, damnit—to open the kids’ eyes when they were scrunched closed. “T, this is only the beginning. By the time I’m done, you won’t recognize yourself.”
“That’s entirely what I’m afraid of.”
Seventy-five minutes later, Jonas is due to pick me up any minute. My hair has been flat-ironed out so it hangs in a blonde curtain down my back. After a long battle, which I lost, my legs have been slicked with a lotion that has an oil additive so they shine, prompting Elle to declare, “You don’t need to cover those sticks with hose, T. I mean, if I had legs that ran up to my pits despite giving birth to two kids, I’d be tempted to slip on a G-string and greet him at the door with nothing but that.”
“And that’s the difference between us. You retained your confidence after everything was done.” I stare at the options Elle has hung on the bifold doors of my closet. “No,” I say immediately, pointing to the dress she brought with cutouts.
“You’re a party pooper. What if he takes you to some hot club?”
“Then you can say I told you so.” I scrunch my toes against the hardwood, wishing with all my might I had more time to do something ridiculously out of budget like pamper my feet with a real pedicure instead of a soak and coating them with dark lacquer. I take a glittery number with feathers sprouting from random places and shove it hard at Elle with a disdainful “If I feel like I could pluck it to eat, I’m not wearing it.”
Elle chuckles. “Jesus, that’s probably why I still have the tags on it. I didn’t realize why I was attracted to it and can’t bear to put it on.”
Distracted from my final two choices, I glance over my shoulder at my best friend as she slides her dresses into a bag. “Because you want to cook it?” I ask incredulously.
“Maybe subconsciously.”
“And I thought I had problems.”
“You do,” she informs me cheerfully. “You have ten minutes until a knock comes on that door. And when it does, you’re going on your first date since Will. Avoiding the topic will only get you so far.”
“I’m not avoiding the topic.”
“Then what do you call this? You won’t say a damn word about how you’re feeling.”
I lean back against the opposite wall to study the remaining dresses while I gather my thoughts. “I’m terrified.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Part of me hates myself for allowing things to progress this far. He was interviewing me to apologize for almost costing me my job, Elle. But…”
“But what, T?” A comforting hand hands on my shoulder.
Taking a deep breath,
I try to put my thoughts into words. “I’m me,” I say carefully.
“And you’re amazing,” she defends loyally.
“But I’m not just me. He could have anyone. What is it about me?” Suddenly all my fears come rushing out. “Jonas is a wonderful person, and I can’t deny there’s this simmering attraction between us. He’s seen the most provoking parts of my life in the last few weeks, and nothing fazes him other than worry about how much strain I’m under.”
“I liked him before. Now I really like him.”
My lips curve as I reach out and finger the sleeve of a jersey dress that screams anticipation. “The thing is he hasn’t backed away. Slowly, he’s embedding himself deeper into me.”
“T, isn’t that a good thing?’ Elle rests next to the dress I’m leaning toward for this date.
“I don’t know. When we found about everything with Will, I was furious.”
“I was too. With both him and Erik.”
“Didn’t you feel foolish? I know I did because I didn’t see it sooner.”
“Since I lived that nightmare right alongside you, I understand better than anyone else.” Her hand smooths up and down over the robe I’m wearing. “What is it, T?”
“Something tells me Jonas isn’t the kind of man I’ll recover from if I get involved with him,” I confess.
Her hand stills. “I don’t know whether to offer to stay two days, to grab you a glass of wine for you to pound really quick to loosen you up, or simply to tell you to take the chance you deserve.”
“God, not the wine. I’m already nauseous. I don’t want to puke the minute I see him.”
Without saying a word, Elle plucks a final hanger off the wall. “Deciding what I’m going to wear now?” I drawl sarcastically as she turns to add the dress to the bag on the bed. Funny enough, she left me with my own little black dress to wear. Dropping the robe where I stand, I slip it off the hanger and step into it, tugging the one sleeve up. I turn my back in time for Elle to zip me up. I adjust angle of the cowl neck so it falls almost to the elbow of one side. “So, we ended up with my wearing the same dress I had in my closet,” I laugh.
“That’s because I realize he’s worth seeing you in it.”
“What do you mean?” I reach down and slide into a pair of strappy sandals with a heel that won’t catch in every crack and crevice of New York City sidewalks.
“That dress exposes the real you, Trina.” At my confused look, she continues. “While it’s brilliantly, simple, it’s no less sexy for it. You’re captivating, and alluring. The man who earns your attention had better understand what he’s getting and what he stands to lose.”
I swallow hard, desperate not to ruin my makeup. “I don’t often feel that way. Not anymore.”
“And my job as your best friend is to remind you of it.” Elle hands me a pair of silver studs that complement the outfit without overwhelming it. They were her gift to me for graduating pastry school. I smile as I slip them in, knowing she has a matching pair at home. Just as I finish fiddling with the last back of the second earring, I hear a knock at the door.
“Are you ready?” she asks quietly, as she moves to pick up the bag with dresses.
Am I? After spending weeks getting to know Jonas, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, but I know I’ll regret missing this opportunity more if I don’t take the chance.
Without another word, having said goodbye to the twins before I got dressed, I make my way to the door. Taking a quick peek out, I see the back of his dark wavy hair. I let out a slow breath as I undo each of the locks, then swing the door inward.
“Hi,” I greet him. He spins around. And I can’t say I’m not gratified by the shock and awe on his face as his gaze roams me from head to toe. “You’re right on time.”
Chapter 16
Jonas
I know my jaw unhinges at the sight of Trina when she opens her door. This isn’t the brilliant chef, or the amazing mother, or the woman I’ve come to admire and respect.
This woman is a siren.
The simple black jersey of her dress falls off one shoulder almost all the way down to her elbow. With slim-fitting sleeves to the wrist, the only shape it has is provided by her own curves. I’m fervently blessing the designer for stopping the dress inches above her knees.
“Wow” is all I can manage with my tongue stuck to my mouth. I hold out the first of two items in my hands, waiting for her reaction. She backs in to allow me into her foyer.
“Hey,” Elle calls from the bedroom, careful not to say my name so Trina and I can make a clean escape.
“Hey back!” I reply, but my focus is on Trina, who’s turning the jar of pickles with a bow and a note that reads, “You’re kind of a big dill,” over and over. I’m gratified when she bursts into laughter.
“These are the perfect gift, Jonas. Especially from you.” She steps into my space and brushes her lips across my cheek.
My head swims at the simple contact that begins our date perfectly. I inhale the scent of roses and jasmine. I almost miss the baby powder, but tonight isn’t about Annie and Chris. Well, except for what’s in my other hand. “This for the kids,” I tell her as I place the brown grocery bag in her arms. “Well, Elle too, I guess,” I tack on.
“What did you…” Then Trina’s face softens as she peeks inside. “Jonas. You didn’t have to get them sundaes.”
“Technically, I got them the makings for sundaes. This way, Elle can determine how much they eat. Then again, I wasn’t sure how well an individual sundae would hold up. Why am I suddenly nervous?”
“Why does it make me feel better to know you are?” Her lips curve as she turns into the kitchen to put the fixings on the counter and to pop the ice cream in the freezer.
“Because—” I’m about to answer, when she bends down to fiddle with the strap of her sandal. “We need to go,” I say abruptly.
“We do? Do we have a reservation?”
“Yes. No. Yes.”
Confusion mars her lovely features. She steps closer and all coherent thought falls from my brain except, “You make my heart skip a beet; you’re so beautiful,” I blurt out.
Trina freezes where she is, just out of reach. Her lips part in surprise. “Really?”
Because I’m studying everything about her so intently, I catch the flicker of her pulse at the base of her neck. “Yes. Maybe it was the chocolate conditioner you used last night, but you look delicious.”
Stepping into my space, she splays her hands on my chest. As she tips her head back, her curtain of hair falls down her back. “Then let’s get out of here before Elle can’t keep Annie and Chris contained any longer.”
Twisting to the side, I hold out my arm. Trina precedes me, making me quiver inside when I see what that dress does to the back side of her. She nabs a small purse and calls out goodbyes before turning to me. “I’m ready.”
“So am I.” My words cause her eyes to flare.
We exit the apartment, Trina does her normal lockup, and we make our way to the elevator. “So, where are you taking me for the evening, Mr. Rice? A man of your refined tastes, I must say, it’s been on my mind.”
Mysteriously, I smile as I guide her down the street where I paid for metered parking. “You’ll see.”
“I still can’t believe we ate there.” I’m fairly certain Trina’s been in a catatonic state since we walked up to the tiny red building at the corner of East 114th Street. She stops walking to grab the lapels of my coat. “Their meatball is in my stomach,” she shrieks as she shakes me slightly.
“I would have thought you would have been more impressed with the dessert selection.” I’m thoroughly amused.
“And their seafood salad.” Her voice gets dreamy.
“Don’t forget the chicken,” I remind her gravely.
“How could you forget the chicken? It was perfection.” Trina steps back, and her lip trembles. “What just happened?”
I frown. “I’m confused. We only had dinner at…”
“I know where we had dinner! You have to promise to sell a kidney from each of your descendants to get the opportunity to eat there. There’s no ‘just’ about it, Jonas. How? No,” she interrupts as I begin to answer. “The better question is why? Why me? Why go through all that trouble to take me?”
“Maybe because like the ‘King of Cool’ sang tonight—you keep me spinning.” I yank Trina to me before she can protest. “I can’t give you an answer why I brought you here. I knew you’d love it on so many levels—as a woman and as a chef. I wanted to impress you, and maybe that was stupid because over and over you keep reminding me about spending money like the average New Yorker, but I couldn’t resist when one of my readers offered up their designated monthly table assignment. If it was too much, I…” My words are cut off by the soft press of her lips against mine.
“Forgive me?” Dumbly, I nod at her whispered words. I wish I could hit Pause so I could call Julian to ask what to do next. “It’s not every day a man hands you a dream on your first date just because you’re you.”
“Oh. That’s a good thing, right?”
“It is,” she assures me.
“Then maybe it wouldn’t earn me the Paxton Revenge if I were to ask you back to my place for an after-dinner drink?”
“The Paxton Revenge?” Her head tips to the side, sending her hair cascading over her bare shoulder.
I push the rest away from her ear before I lean down to tease, “Remember, I recall exactly where your children landed their little feet when they were angry at their doctor. I don’t want their mother to have cause to do the same.”
Her body’s shaking with mirth when she replies, “You’re not planning on giving me a shot, are you, Jonas?”
Challenged by You: A Fusion Universe Novel Page 12