Trusting Again Page 4

  At the restaurant, she settled onto a bar chair and ordered her usual glass of house red, hoping the wine would ease some of her anxiety and her early arrival would give her heart a chance to relax into something resembling a normal rhythm. When the bartender went off to fetch her drink, she made a few last minute adjustments to her clothes — smoothing her white handkerchief-hem skirt, centering the metal ornament on the wide, brown leather belt that showed off her trim waist, pulling the sleeves of the matching top down over her wrists, making sure the strands of her handmade beads weren’t twisted. She liked what she had on, even if it wasn’t exactly the business dress other women in the room were wearing.

  With a sigh, she acknowledged that what she was wearing was the perfect example of the differences between them. Marius was sure to be in one of those amazing suits he wore every day in his professional life. If he kept asking her to have dinner with him at places like this, she was going to have to figure a way to buy some new clothes.

  Damn.

  Thinking about things like buying new clothes for dates with him was exactly what she should not do. It could get her into trouble financially, even with her recent successes. Counting on him to ask her out again would get her into even worse trouble emotionally.

  The bartender had barely gotten the wine glass onto the napkin in front of her when she grabbed it and took a healthy sip — okay, gulp — hoping to quiet her brain before her date arrived.

  • • •

  Marius had planned to get to the bar early so Cynthia wouldn’t have to sit by herself waiting for him, but he’d gotten held up by a long, involved phone call with his father, followed by an urgent email from Honduras about his upcoming trip there. As he strode into the bar he checked his watch and was not happy to see he was bordering on being late. Damn it. He didn’t want Cynthia to think he was rude or arrogant enough to make her wait. Didn’t want her to believe he didn’t care or worse, had blown off their date. But what he saw across the room made him stop as soon as he got inside the door to appreciate the view, even if it might make him a few minutes late.

  He was sure she was unaware that most of the men in the room were checking her out. Guys there with other women glanced at her when they had the chance to do so without getting caught. Those there solo were more blatant about their interest in the cool, elegant woman in the white dress with the long braid draped over her shoulder.

  She was backlit from a spot above the bar, the light picking up highlights the summer sun had put in her hair. Like a magnificent cat, she looked sleek and sexy. She wasn’t fidgeting or looking around uneasily, didn’t play with the cocktail napkin or fuss with the wine glass in front of her; she looked … serene, he guessed was the right word. Unlike many of the women he’d gone out with, she didn’t check herself out in the mirror behind the bar every five seconds to see how she looked. Either she knew — or didn’t care — that she was stunning. But she was. In fact, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

  And she was his for the evening. If the evening went the way he’d planned, this beautiful woman could be his for the rest of the summer. That was some treat to look forward to.

  • • •

  She glanced up from her glass in time to see him walk — no, stride — across the room toward her, a huge smile on his face. He wasn’t in a suit after all but tan trousers, a dark brown jacket, and a cream colored shirt with no tie. He was to-die-for good-looking; so handsome women in the bar followed him with their eyes to see who was lucky enough to have earned that smile.

  “You look beautiful,” he said as he took the seat next to her and kissed her on the cheek.

  “You look pretty beautiful yourself,” she responded.

  “Is that how women from Seattle describe men … as beautiful?”

  “I’m from Port Townsend, but I would have thought you’d have heard women describe you that way no matter where they were born.”

  His smile was now a little too sexy for comfort. She bet she could kiss that smug smile off his face if she put her mind to it.

  What the hell? Kissing him? Where had that idea come from? That might get rid of the self-assured expression, but it could also lead to something she wasn’t prepared to follow up on.

  Or was she? A memory of the kiss they’d shared the last time they’d been together flitted through her mind followed by a shiver of desire that drew her nipples into hard points and shimmered through her body, catching her breath in her throat. Oh, God. What was going on here? He’d barely touched her and she all but had them in bed.

  In bed? Where had that come from?

  Thank God, the bartender interrupted. “Good evening, Mr. Hernandez. I assume you’d like your usual?” Marius nodded. The server poured a glass of the wine from the bottle he was holding before saying to Cynthia, “If I’d known who you were waiting for, miss, I’d have poured this for you, too.” Her half-finished glass of wine disappeared under the bar and he brought out a clean glass into which he poured for her from the same bottle.

  “Malbec, I assume?” Cynthia said.

  “I’m hurt that you weren’t converted by my enthusiastic endorsement in Portland.” Marius covered his heart with his right hand in a mocking gesture of pain.

  “I was, actually; I even bought a bottle when I came home. But I didn’t think to order it tonight. Force of habit to order the house red, I guess.” She took a sip of the new wine. “But this is much better, I’ll admit.” In a nervous gesture, she flipped her hair back behind her.

  He reached over and brought the long braid back over her shoulder. Playing with the end of it, he said, “It’s tempting to take this hair band off and let your braid unravel. I want to see if your hair feels like silk when I run my fingers through it.”

  Yanking the braid from his hand, she tossed it behind her again.

  “Why do you pull away from me when I touch you?” he asked, his brown eyes somehow both curious and sensual.

  “I don’t.” She dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes the way she avoided his touch.

  “Yes, you do.” Taking her hand he began to bring it to his lips. She reflexively withdrew it from him. “See?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, not sure if she was brave enough to tell him the truth. On a deep breath, she tried. “You make me uneasy.”

  “That’s the last thing I want to do. How? Why?” He looked genuinely surprised.

  “You’re — I don’t know — too much.”

  “Too much what?”

  “Too much of everything. Too handsome, too sexy, too rich, too successful, too … too Marius.”

  The smile reappeared, this time even more smug than before. “And yet here you are having dinner with me. Does that mean you like ‘too much’ even if it makes you uneasy?”

  “I’d be an idiot if I tried to deny the attraction between us. Even if you do make me nervous. Even if you are out of my league.”

  “I’m out of your league? I thought beautiful, talented women had a league of their own. One the rest of us could only hope to visit occasionally and only when invited.”

  “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “I’m not. You are those things, querida. If anyone should be intimidated, it should be me.”

  She almost snorted. “I doubt that you’ve ever been intimidated in your life.”

  He shrugged his beautiful shoulders. “It takes quite a bit, but the envy of all the men in the room tonight because you’re with me could do it.”

  The maitre’d interrupted. “Your table is ready, Mr. Hernandez, whenever you are.”

  “Thank you, John.” Marius didn’t get up, but merely finished off the wine in his glass.

  “Aren’t we going to follow him?”

  “I know where my table is. It’ll be there when you finish your wine.”

  “See. This is what I mean. I’ve never known anyone who actually had his own table at an expensive restaurant.”

  “Which means nothing other than I enter
tain people for business here often and tip well. Just like a lot of other people.”

  She thought about it for a moment. “When you explain it like that, I guess it doesn’t mean much.” She finished her wine and slid off the bar chair. “So, you eat here a lot, do you? Then you must know what’s best on the menu. That’ll make ordering easy.”

  With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her to a corner where a table was set for two with privacy guaranteed by discretely placed plants and dim lighting.

  “Business dinners, huh? With this lighting? Are all your clients women?” she asked as he pulled out the chair for her.

  “You found me out. I asked John to lower the lights in the corner tonight. Normally, it’s considerably brighter.” He didn’t sit across from her but at the place immediately to her left, where she could feel his knee touch hers, his foot close to hers.

  Shaking off the breathlessness that always seemed to result from his nearness, she said, “Fortunately, I won’t have to ask for a flashlight to read the menu since you’re going to order for us.”

  She was rewarded with a surprised look from him. “I wouldn’t have predicted you’d let someone else order for you.”

  “I don’t normally. But you pick great wine; you serve good coffee; you have your own table here. You’ll surely do better than I would. I’d just be guessing at what’s good.”

  “All right then, I will. You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

  “No, and I like just about everything. Except lima beans. I hate lima beans.” She picked up her napkin and put it on her lap. “Oh, and sweet potatoes. Don’t like them either.”

  “Good to know. I dislike seeing my dinner companion’s face puff up or turn green because I’ve fed her something she doesn’t like or is poisonous.”

  “I’ve never thought about those possibilities before, but I’ll keep them in mind the next time I have the urge to let someone else order for me. They might not be so considerate.”

  When the waiter arrived, Marius ordered Caesar salads, Chateaubriand for two with roasted vegetables — no lima beans or sweet potatoes, please — and a bottle of Malbec. After the server left, he said, “Their beef is the best in the city, so I thought we’d eat classic tonight instead of trendy.”

  “Classic is good. I wondered if you’d go all oysters and champagne.”

  “Am I to infer from that you think — or believe I think — one of us needs aphrodisiacs?”

  She could feel her face redden. “No, I wasn’t implying anything. Really.”

  The smile that curved up the sides of his mouth was so sensual, she felt her insides begin to melt. This man affected her more with a smile and one glance of his dangerously dark eyes than any man she’d ever known could do with considerably more contact.

  “We don’t need aphrodisiacs. We have all the chemistry we need without them.” He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. This time, she didn’t pull away. He kissed her fingers then nipped at the flesh at the base of her thumb. She shuddered and saw his dark eyes get darker.

  Having proved his point, he lowered their hands to the table but didn’t release her until the server brought their salads.

  When her hand was free, she took a deep, calming breath so she could pick up her fork without having her hand shake. But he was not about to let her breathe easy, it seemed. She felt his knee press lightly against hers. He apparently intended to keep some part of his body in contact with hers through the whole meal.

  Maybe wine would help, she thought as she took a healthy gulp, hoping it would relax her throat enough so she could swallow.

  Fortunately, once the food got there, it wasn’t a problem. Marius had ordered a delicious meal — the beef was tender and flavorful, the wine a perfect match and the accompanying vegetables flawlessly grilled. Somewhere in the middle of enjoying her dinner, she realized she’d gotten accustomed to the light pressure of his knee and leg against hers. She tried to convince herself it was the good food, maybe the wine, making her so comfortable. Her head was willing to listen, but not her heart.

  He insisted she select dessert. She was tempted by cherries jubilee and chocolate cake, but ended up asking for a cheese plate. When the waiter left, Marius had an odd expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you disappointed? Did I order something you don’t like? We can call him back and change it.” She began to look around for their waiter.

  “No, don’t.” He put his hand over hers. “I’m not disappointed; I’m surprised. I thought I was the only person who could resist something sweet after a meal. You ordered exactly what I would have.”

  Somehow, almost three hours had slipped by while they ate and talked and laughed. She didn’t realize how late it was until they walked out of the restaurant into a dusky evening.

  “My car’s parked that way,” she said, pointing to the left.

  “I’ll walk with you to make sure you’re all right.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you’ll be fine. I’ll be with you.”

  “You don’t have to … ” she began, but she could tell from the look he gave her that she was going to have company while she walked to her car.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and she found herself fighting the urge to nestle into his side and just enjoy smelling him.

  “Would you like to, Cynthia?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Should I be offended that after our first dinner together, it’s so easy for your mind to wander when I’m talking to you?”

  “Why don’t you just repeat what you said and skip the fishing for a compliment?”

  “I asked if you’d like to have coffee at my place.”

  She took less time to say “yes” than she had the last time he asked.

  They reached her little Honda Accord and she got directions to his house from downtown. She was just about to get into her car when he took her hand. Without asking the question, she knew what he wanted. The answer was in his eyes.

  Brushing a few strands of hair from her face, he bracketed her cheeks with his hands. He lowered his head so his mouth was close to hers. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the kiss she knew was coming, the kiss she both wanted and was afraid of. But instead of pressing his mouth to hers, he only lightly touched her lips with his then whispered, “I should wait until we’re not in public, but I’ve wanted to do this all evening.”

  The vibrations from his mouth coursed like electricity through her body. He held her face for a few more moments, the warmth from his breath on her mouth making her feel like she would dissolve in a wet heap at his feet.

  Just when she thought he would never do it, he kissed her. But it wasn’t the soft and gentle kiss she expected. It was so immediately passionate, so urgent and demanding, it felt like a train had hit her. He didn’t just kiss her; he took possession of her mouth as if he never intended to give it back. All of her senses were focused on her mouth, his mouth, what he was doing with his lips, with the tip of his tongue. She should have been frightened by the intensity but she wasn’t, she was aroused by it.

  She didn’t resist, couldn’t resist, but responded as he slid his tongue around hers with a sensual roll that made her head spin. The kiss took the oxygen from her body and the stability from her legs. Her breasts tingled. She was dizzy and breathless, wanting more from him, wanting everything he could give her — his mouth, his body, more of this man.

  When she slumped back against the car, he kept the length of his body in contact with hers. His hands slipped from her shoulders and slid down her sides, following the curves of her body, stopping to hold her at her waist as if he knew she was in need of his support just then; before moving to her hips, pulling her into him, moving her tighter against an erection that was, she was sure, threatening to break the zipper on those expensive-looking trousers he was wearing.

  Without thinking, she moved her leg to accept hi
m, to bring him closer to her, canting her hips to feel him pressed hard against her where a moist heat was burning. As she felt him grow harder and bigger against her, a hunger came out of nowhere, surging through her and she returned the kiss, exploring his mouth, playing with his tongue, every cell in her body responding to him.

  He nibbled his way from her mouth to her cheek, to her jawline then her earlobes, licking, then kissing, the sensitive spot right behind her ear. When she moaned and rubbed her hips against his, he whispered, “Querida, we shouldn’t be doing this on the street.”

  She shook her head, more to clear it than to indicate an answer. “No,” she gulped in air before continuing, “you’re right. We shouldn’t.” To her ears, her voice sounded vague and far away, like she was having an out of body experience.

  As she moved away from him, she saw a sweet smile play across his mouth, watched desire flash through his eyes. He gently kissed her forehead, his hands still on her shoulders. “Shall we go to my house?”

  She didn’t say anything for a few moments, not sure if she wanted to change her mind or race him there. When she tried to speak, she could hear how breathless she still sounded, how high pitched her voice was. She swallowed, gave a cough or two to clear her throat — her head was a lost cause — and tried again. “Remind me how to get there?”

  In spite of the two times he’d given her directions, she made three wrong turns getting to his house driving through a city she knew like she knew her own name.

  Marius Hernandez, she decided, should have a warning label on his forehead: Exposure to this man can result in confusion, dizziness, and erratic behavior. Women who kiss him should not operate machinery immediately afterwards.

  Chapter 5

  Because of her detours, Cynthia arrived well after Marius had gotten home. As she walked through the front door he’d left open, he said, “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.” He’d shed his jacket and, from the aroma, started the coffee brewing.