I debate the question for a minute or two. “You can lose yourself in a passionate romance, but there’s a way to navigate it and remain true to yourself.”
“How far would you go for a person you cared about?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never been tested that way. I see the main character’s perspective. She cares for him, and she also knows he’ll take her to places she’s never been, but it scares and intrigues her. Why do you think he insists on the contract?”
He glances from side to side, then looks at me before saying, “The exchange of money keeps feelings out of the equation.”
I move the broccoli around my plate. “Is that why you hire escorts? Are you afraid of emotional attachments?”
His head snaps back like I splashed him with ice water. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about the book.”
“I think we may be talking about both.”
“I’m not up for discussion tonight. And on that note, I think we’re done for the night. Ready to go?”
I’d hit a nerve with my comment. Rather than pick at a scab, I pay the bill, and we leave the restaurant.
Once we are back in the car, he reaches into the back seat and pulls out a large box. “This is from my mom. She thought it would look nice on you.” He sets it in my lap. “You shouldn’t have to borrow a gown for Saturday, especially that blue one.” He taps the box. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.”
“Tell your mom thank you.” I’m floored his mother sent me a dress for the performance.
As we pull up in front of my house, I wait for him to come around and let me out. I’m not letting him off the hook tonight.
He dismissed me at the restaurant, but I won’t let him ignore me now.
He walks me to my door like he’s walking to a hanging—his. Before he can turn around and leave, I drop the box and pull him to me for a kiss. I give him everything I have to offer in that kiss; my loyalty, affection, and maybe a piece of my heart.
He doesn’t respond at first, but as I part his lips with my tongue, he gives in and kisses me in return. His passion pours into me, and I have no doubt that he feels something for me.
“I care about you,” I whisper against his neck as I settle into a hug.
“You shouldn’t.” He gently pushes away until our eyes connect. “I’m not good for you.”
“Let’s take it one kiss at a time, okay?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at the ground like an uncertain kid. “I’ll see you Saturday at six.”
I pick up the box, close the door behind me, and watch him walk to his car and drive away.
“What’s in the box?”
I jump several inches at Em’s voice.
“Shit, Em! You scared the living daylights out of me.”
She looks out the window at Damon’s fading taillights. “I see things are moving forward with Mr. Noble. That was quite a kiss on the porch.”
“Were you spying on us?”
She was because Em doesn’t like to be the last to know about anything.
“How else am I going to find out what’s going on around here?”
I move to the couch and set the box on the cushions. “You could stay home occasionally, and then you’d have the 411.”
She reaches for the box top and flips the lid off. We both look at the ice-blue gown carefully placed within the tissue. I pull it out and let it unfold. It has a round scoop neck and beading that goes all the way to the floor with a slit that rises to mid-thigh. The color is familiar, it’s the same as Damon’s eyes.
“Did he buy you this dress?”
I hold it up to me and turn around. The beaded fabric feels heavy in my hands, but it’s too beautiful to put down.
“No, his mother picked it out and thought it would look nice on me. I’m attending the Philharmonic on Saturday with them to pay tribute to Roman.”
“Hmm. Now you’re dining with the parent. Wow, you move fast.” She touches the scarf hanging around my neck. “Where did you get this?”
“Don’t you miss anything?”
“Nope, but I can figure out the connection. First, it’s the book, then the scarf. It sounds kinky.”
A shiver runs up my spine. “You have no idea.”
“I might,” she says. “Listen, Anthony and I are going to Catalina on Friday, and we’ll be gone until Sunday. I worried you might get lonely, but now that I know you’ll be with Damon, I feel better about leaving.”
“Even if I didn’t have plans, I’d be all right. This is my last weekend at Java Joes, so things won’t be so crazy.” I set the dress back into the box and run my fingers down the beads. “How are things going with Anthony?”
A big smile spreads across her face. “It’s almost too good to be true. Things are dreamlike. What about you and Damon?”
“Damon is … complicated. He’s convinced he’s bad for me, and he keeps cautioning me, but I see something good in him.”
“Just be careful, okay? If someone likes you enough to caution you about themselves, you should at least consider their warnings.”
“I will.”
I give her a big hug and take the dress to my room.
I feel like Cinderella on her way to the ball.
Chapter Eleven
Thursday and Friday pass without a word from Damon, but it’s no surprise with the way he acted the other night.
One minute he’s playful, and the next minute he’s distant. I don’t understand what to make of it, so I let him have his space. Not knowing if he’s still picking me up for the concert, I send him a quick text.
Are we still on for tomorrow? I need to know if I should make other arrangements for transportation.
Within seconds he texts back, confirming he’ll arrive at six. That was it. Just a verification. No hello. No how are you? Nothing.
Saturday zooms past, and I rush home after work to shower. I have less than an hour to put myself together. Just as I’m applying my lipstick, the doorbell rings. I hop on one foot to the door, trying to put my other heel on, on the way. When I open the door, Damon is there looking delicious in his tuxedo. It’s hard to stay upset with him when he takes my breath away.
Calm down, heart.
I take a few deep breaths and regain my composure. “I’m almost done. Come in. Let me get my bag, put on my earrings, and I’ll be ready.”
He steps through the door and waits while I rush around, looking for Emma’s silver shawl. I find it on my dresser and wrap it around my shoulders before rushing back to the living room.
“You look stunning,” he says. “The color and fit are perfect on you.”
“I wonder how your mom knew.”
“It must be a girl thing.” His eyes smile like he has a secret. Offering his arm, we walk to the waiting limousine.
A sense of déjà vu washes over me. Was is only weeks ago that I sat in this same limousine with him? He’s in the same place, staring at the slit of my dress as it rises up my thigh.
“You must have had a busy week.” I don’t want to pry, but I’d like to know why he didn’t call. His silence for the past two days feels like a punishment.