Time moved more slowly than ever. After showering and dawdling as best he could for an hour or more, he glanced up; the clock read 7:28 p.m. . . . close enough. He had plenty of time still to dress, do his hair, shave, get to his car, and drive to pick up this woman who’d infiltrated every single thought during his day. The workout this morning had been a series of him tripping over his own feet as he tried to get a glimpse of what she was doing or how she was doing in class. She’d said she would be sore, but she seemed to plow through the pain and did great. He was somehow proud of that—unreasonable though that feeling may have been.
At eight, he headed to the underground garage and slid behind the wheel of his M3. He’d already programmed in Calli’s address—yeah, he didn’t want anything to go amiss. He’d already biffed things with Calli once by having his personal assistant call to arrange a meeting, and he’d said a few things that obviously put her off. Tonight, he needed to learn how not to make those kinds of mistakes in the future.
As he drove through Calli’s sleepy neighborhood, the houses grew into what he considered monstrosities. Far too large for someone single, he thought. He favored the size of his loft—an open living space, a single master suite, a smaller room tucked behind the kitchen that he rarely used, and absolutely no outdoor maintenance. Then again, she did work in Cloud 9. If the percentages his investment advisor, Kyle, took in fees were any indication, she could afford this lifestyle as well as any married couple. It was just a bit more . . . domestic . . . than he’d expected, and it was so dark. With the houses spread out, the mature trees, and only a streetlight at about every fifth house, it was hard to see anything. He felt like he was driving into the country.
The GPS said in her computerized voice, “Your destination is on the left.”
He slowed to read the house numbers and easily confirmed the number he was looking for in the light from the front porch. Dom drove past her place into a cul-de-sac, backtracked to Calli’s house, and pulled into the long driveway. He left his M3 running to keep it warm for his date and stepped outside. As he strode toward the walk, a dog started barking—a deep, growly bark, rapid and trying to warn someone of the stranger’s presence. Fortunately, Cujo seemed to be a house or two away, so Dom buttoned the top button on his Canali suit jacket and pressed forward. Under the previously helpful spotlights, Dom felt like he was center stage, heart racing and his neck itching like he was about to break out in hives. Since that time in the fifth-grade talent show, when he was the fat kid that everyone laughed at when they weren’t supposed to, he’d avoided that. How ironic that he had his own television show now. Somehow, though, it didn’t feel the same, and through hard work, he was no longer fat.
He rang the bell and pushed his hands into his pockets, the light reflecting from his warm breath as it fogged the night air. Thankfully, no barking came from inside the house. He loved dogs, but dressed as he was, he didn’t want to deal with fur clinging to the expensive suit.
The lock thunked, the knob snicked, and the door swung open into the house, revealing Calli with one shoulder leaning onto the open door’s edge. She smiled, smoothing the simple, yet elegant gray dress. Dom lost his breath as he took in the beadwork that decorated her neck and chest. Her shoulders remained bare, but her rich brown curls rested over one shoulder, drawing his eyes down the length of her slender arm. The skirt brushed the floor. A soft pink color bloomed in her cheeks and his open-mouthed stare turned into a grin.
“Come in.” She motioned with one hand. “I just need to grab my coat.” She turned toward the closet, revealing an open back and the curved line of her spine.
Dom stepped inside, his mouth turning to cotton at the sight of her. He wanted to lean in and place his lips on that curve. Instead, he closed the door and reached for the coat she’d pulled from the closet. “Your choice in gown is delectable.”
“Thank you. You don’t think it’s too much?”
“Absolutely not. You’re radiant.” Dom held up the coat for her to slide her arms into. As she did, a floral scent drifted up to him. He breathed deeply, savoring her soft smell. “Did you get your hair done too?”
Calli lifted a hand self-consciously and rolled her eyes. “Do you remember the ladies I was with at Moretti’s?”
“Mmhmm.”
“They had way too much fun with dressing me up today.” Calli giggled, shaking her head. Then with a shrug she added, “You did say to dress. Though, even with that, I’m not usually so fancy.”
“Well, you can tell them that they hit the mark.”
As she grabbed a small bag and turned back to him, he shuffled from foot to foot. Why did he so want to pull her into his arms, forget the dinner, and have his way with her right here and now?
“Are you ready?” she asked.
He swallowed and said, “Yes,” as he opened the door for her.
Chapter 14
Calli
Calli lifted the layers of her gossamer skirt and walked down the sidewalk steps to Dom’s still running car. Strike that thought—sports car. Typical. Just get through the night, Calli.
During the process of getting her hair foiled in a caramel color with deep-brown accents for depth, then coifed for the evening, she had grown increasingly nervous and, if she’d admit it, excited about the date. While she’d brushed off Dom’s compliments, she was pleased that he’d noticed and appreciated her efforts. The dress and hair had cost a fortune that wasn’t really in her budget, but she considered it her gift to herself for having come through the divorce to a good place. After all, a few hundred were a cheap price to make her feel like a million bucks and boost her confidence for the night. She wasn’t the bumbling mess she’d thought she would be.
Dom opened the passenger door with one hand and extended the other to her. His hand was warm and a bit rough; presumably, he needed to wash them frequently in the restaurant business. Even as strangers still, electricity shot up her arm when they touched, and the tension between them became palpable again. She cast her eyes downward, then back to his, holding his piercing gaze as she lowered herself into the car and gathered her gown.
He smiled, closed the door, and strode around the car. The light gray of his suit reflected the headlights’ glow when his long legs passed through the beams. Calli looked down at the Jovani dress she wore. Good thing she had chosen the gray instead of the teal dress she’d considered as a close second. They looked like a properly matched couple.
Inside the car, Dom buckled his seatbelt and checked his watch—an intriguing double-faced gadget.
“Our reservations are for 8:15; we should be right on time.” He shifted the car into reverse, the rear camera showing the entry to Calli’s driveway. Once backed out, he pushed the clutch, put the car in first, revved the engine slightly, and they were off.
Not yet comfortable enough to sit with this man in silence, Calli said, “Nobody really drives a stick these days.”
“I learned on one, and I’ve only had one automatic in my life. After that, I vowed that any vehicle I owned would have a manual transmission. I enjoy the feel of the engine and the connection to the machine as I drive”—he downshifted as they rounded a curve and shot her a crooked smile—“plus, it’s a built-in car security system.” He raised a brow. “And . . . it’s just downright sexy. You can drive one, right?”