feed each other.”
The phone rang before Danette could reply to Tara’s teasing.
She picked it up. “Tara Peters here.”
“Good morning, stellina.”
“Angelo.” She turned so her back was to Danette’s now avidly curious gaze.
“Did you sleep well?”
“If I answer that honestly, you’ll get a swelled head.” Where the flirtatious words came from, she didn’t know.
She’d never been particularly flirtatious and in the last two years, she’d been positively subdued in her behavior toward men, but he brought out a side to her she’d considered gone forever.
“I did not sleep.” The words were given in such a seductive voice, she about melted in her chair.
“Um…I’m sorry?”
A wicked chuckle made her insides shiver. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“You doubt my sincerity?”
“Perhaps I wouldn’t if you answered my original question…did you sleep well?”
“No.”
“Ah. I like that. It was because of me.”
“Conceited man.”
“Am I?”
“Maybe not.” She had spent her night thinking about him.
“I need to be back in New York on Monday.”
“Oh.” Gosh, how original, but what was she supposed to say to that? Don’t go?
“My flight was scheduled to leave this afternoon.”
“It was?” As in he’d changed it?
“Yes.”
She waited in silence, not sure how he wanted her to respond. Hoping she’d interpreted his use of the past tense correctly.
“I had it postponed.”
Relief surged through her and she knew she was in deep trouble with this man. “You did?”
“I wanted to spend more time with you.”
“I like that,” she admitted.
“So, you’ll let me take you out tonight?”
“Yes.” She was making an irrevocable decision, but maybe it was time she started taking some risks.
If she didn’t, she might spend the rest of her life regretting yet another bad choice.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“All right.”
“You have a date with the boss?” Danette demanded the minute Tara hung up the phone.
“Yes.”
Danette’s whistle echoed the shock reverberating through her own brain.
She was still reeling from her decision to actually go on a date with Angelo when she dressed for the evening.
Unlike their business dinner, she had no desire to dress in a way that downplayed her femininity tonight. Pulling a garment she hadn’t worn in a very long time from the back of her closet, she smiled. The quintessential little black dress, its spaghetti straps and skirt that hit her midthigh were elegant and sexy despite the simplicity of the dress’s design.
She brushed her hair into curling waves that reached the middle of her back, slipped on a pair of black stiletto sandals and stood to look in the mirror. Oh gosh, she’d forgotten the way it looked. The way she could look.
Had it always been this sensual? Half of her body was on display and the neckline showed a lot more cleavage than she remembered.
Even without makeup, the woman staring back at her appeared ready for a very hot date and she wasn’t sure that was the image she wanted to provide. Angelo didn’t need a whole lot of encouragement in this area. She was reaching for the zipper on the back of the dress when the doorbell rang.
He was early.
She looked longingly at the less revealing dresses hanging in her closet and started to jerk the zipper down when the doorbell rang again. She pulled the zipper back up and after giving her reflection one last despairing glance, she headed for the door.
When she opened it, she almost fell backward from the intense appreciation in his gaze. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive. Zings of forbidden pleasure arced through her at the thought.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore the incredible reaction of her body to his presence. “Hi.”
“Hello.” He looked her up and down, his fiery gaze touching her with tactile force and leaving goosebumps in unimaginable places in its wake. “I like the way you look.”
“Thank you.”
He’d changed from a business suit to a v-necked, lightweight, black sweater that molded his muscular chest and charcoal gray slacks that emphasized the sheer masculine perfection of his form. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
His smile was more like a wicked invitation to sin. He put his hand out. “Ready to go?”
“I don’t have any makeup on yet.” Not that she normally wore it, but this was a date.
Not counting yesterday, which had not been official…it was her first one in two years.
“You don’t need it.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him like he was an alien species. Sometimes, like now, it felt like he was. He certainly didn’t fit the mold of the other males she’d known. “Most men want their dates to be as gorgeous as possible.”
“You aren’t an ornament on my arm. You look beautiful to me and that is all that should matter.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, makeup cannot improve on perfection.” It was a corny line, but he said it was such offhand seriousness; she couldn’t dismiss it as mere flattery.
“Wow…you know just the right thing to say.”
“The truth often comes out that way.”
“But not always. Sometimes the truth hurts.” She didn’t know why she said it, maybe as a reminder to herself.
His mouth set in a grim line. “You’re right, but I still prefer it over dishonesty.”
“Me, too.” A sudden urge made her blurt out. “Promise you’ll always tell me the truth.”
He
