“Tonight’s a date, though. So that’s different.”
“I guess.” Poppy nodded. “It was his idea.”
“Good.” Blue’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t have sex with him tonight.”
Surprised, she didn’t know how to respond. “What?” she asked.
“You heard me. Have a great dinner. Talk to him about whatever…the weather, the Yankees, the damn winter festival, for all I care. But don’t have sex with him. Let him know it’s not about that.” She leaned forward. “Unless it is. Then you can bang him into tomorrow.” She winked again. “And tell me all about it over a bottle of wine.”
“Oh my God, you’re bad.” Poppy chuckled.
“Go home so you have a lot of time to get ready, and I’ll lock up at five.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Blue sailed past her. “Now go.”
Poppy didn’t hesitate. She ran to the back, grabbed her cell phone and purse, then hopped on her bike and pedaled like a crazy person. By the time she made it to her place, she was hot and sweaty and more than ready to sink into a bubble bath and relax.
While she ran her bath, Mabel sniffed frantically outside for at least a full minute until she found the perfect spot to pee (which just so happened to be same spot as every single time before) and then came in and flopped on the floor beside the tub to keep Poppy company. Poppy soaked for a good twenty minutes, washed her hair, shaved all the parts that needed to be shaved, then grabbed the tub of expensive body lotion she only used on special occasions.
Sex with Boone would count as a special occasion.
Unless she didn’t have sex with him.
“Stop it,” she muttered, deciding not to think about anything other than the fact that he was taking her out for dinner. She worked in the lotion until her skin was soft and silky, then glanced at her closet.
Boone hadn’t told her where they were going, so she opted for a simple pale yellow summer dress. It was a halter with a fitted top that showed off a fair amount of cleavage, then fell straight down to her ankles. The back was daring and sexy and exposed a lot of skin. She wondered if she had the guts to pull it off. She’d left her hair loose to fall in waves down her shoulders and took her time with her makeup. Smokey gray shadow for her eyes and an extra coat of mascara. On her lips, a favorite coral gloss. A simple white-gold chain and matching hoops in her ears completed the outfit.
Poppy stared at herself in the mirror and, in some ways, didn’t recognize the reflection. Blue was right. She did look different. She dabbed a light floral scent behind her ears and was just rummaging for a bag when the doorbell rang, and Mabel started barking like the house was on fire.
With one last glance in the mirror, she slipped into a pair of white sandals and headed for the foyer. She didn’t pause or wait, because she was afraid that if she did, she’d lose her nerve and play sick. She yanked open the door, and her world kind of tilted sideways. It slowed down. Went fuzzy. And then startlingly clear.
Boone Avery was dangerously attractive on an average day, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. But dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt that showed off his tan and light khaki slacks that fit him like a glove, he was not just a snack, but a full-on meal. He wore expensive leather deck shoes, and she was pretty sure his belt cost more than the TV she’d bought last month. A Rolex on his wrist glittered in the fading sunlight, and though his hair was damp as if fresh from the shower and curled around his ears, he’d not bothered to shave, and that was a look that made her knees wobble.
“You look amazing.” His voice was low and husky, and before she had a chance to react or reply, Boone dipped his head and kissed her. It was a soft, gentle touch, and when he pulled away with a wicked grin, she was left wanting more.
So. Much. More.
“Ready?”
She nodded silently because she was afraid her vocal cords wouldn’t work. With a quick pat on Mabel’s head, she locked up. Boone took her hand as she stepped down off the porch. She glanced up at him at the unexpected gesture, suddenly aware that Blue had been right.
This was complicated. And it had the potential to get messy. The potential to hurt. Was she brave enough to take all that on?
“You two kids have fun.” She tore her eyes from Boone and spied her neighbor, Mrs. Crabtree, sitting in a rocker on her front porch. The elderly woman gave a wave, and Poppy did the same.
“I’ll have her back by midnight, I promise,” Boone said with a chuckle.
“Don’t hurry back on my account, son.”
Mrs. Crabtree got back to reading the paper, and Boone led Poppy to a small sports car. It was sleek and expensive. The metallic silver gleamed. He helped her inside, and when he got in and started the engine, she knew there was no turning back.
In that moment, she realized something. She’d never been on a real date with this man. All the history she had with him, falling in love as a teenager and losing her virginity to him, and they’d never had a real date. Not once. Heart beating a mile a minute, she turned to him.
“Where are we going?” she asked lightly.
“Somewhere special.” Boone grinned and gunned the engine. They pulled out of her driveway and headed across the bridge. She had no idea what the night would bring, but one thing was clear.
Tomorrow morning, nothing would look the same.
Chapter Sixteen
The trip was short. They pulled up to a small airstrip outside of town, and Boone grinned when she shot a questioning look his way. He slipped from the car and came around to open her door.
“You’re quite the gentleman,” she murmured as she accepted his hand.
“My mom raised me right.”
They walked over to a plane that was parked not far from the hangars, and a tall man in a blue uniform greeted them.
“Mr. Avery. We’re on schedule and ready for takeoff.”
“After you,” Boone said, giving her a hand as she took the railing and climbed the stairs that led into a private jet straight out of an episode of The Kardashians. A woman who looked more like a model than a flight attendant greeted her with a glass of champagne. Boone accepted one as well and followed Poppy to a comfortable seating area. The flight attendant, Ashley, set down a bucket of iced champagne on a table between Boone and Poppy. It also sported a gorgeous charcuterie board filled smoked salmon, pâté, fruit, crackers, and cheese.
“Once we’re in the air, I’ll bring out the main course.”
Poppy waited until Ashley was out of earshot and then leaned forward. “What the hell is this, Boone? I thought we’d go to the Twisted Lemon or the Riverbend. But this?” She looked around. “I don’t… Where are we going?”
Boone set down his champagne glass and popped a grape into his mouth. Had he done that on purpose? Because now all Poppy could see were his lips, and if she closed her eyes, she’d have no problem imagining what those lips felt like on her.
“We’re headed to Chicago to the Cadillac Theatre. I thought it was something you’d enjoy.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “What’s playing?”
“Come Away with Me.”
“Oh my God, I’ve heard such great things about that play. Did you know it’s based on true stories of real people who were diverted to Gander, Newfoundland, when 9/11 happened? I saw a documentary about it. And then this young couple wrote music and…and it became this thing on Broadway and…” She looked away. “I’m babbling like an idiot. I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the theater. Years, in fact.” She glanced up at Boone. “Thank you.”