When she’d gotten to her car after her own workout, he’d left his card on her windshield. Brian Desota, attorney at law.
Yum.
Even better, he answered his phone, he was available, and thirty minutes later, he picked her up at North Beach, looking hot in all black as he drove her to a new restaurant in town.
It started out good, with lots of potential, so it shocked Dimi when he insulted the waiter. He’d also, she remembered, been rude to the valet. And no matter how many drinks Dimi ordered, he still got uglier and uglier.
She sure could pick ’em.
Finally the meal was over and they stood outside his car. She didn’t want to get into the passenger seat and let him take her home, despite the fact that it was fifteen miles from North Beach, it was raining cats and dogs, and she was more than a little tipsy. But in truth, she’d rather risk life and limb, and walk every single one of those miles barefoot than spend another moment with him.
“Get in,” he said, adding a little nudge to the small of her back.
Another problem: having met her drink for drink, he wasn’t feeling any pain, either. Always, that had seemed like a turn-on for Dimi, a man who could drink right alongside her.
But suddenly, it felt old. She wanted to get to know someone and remember what they had to say. She wanted to wake up without a headache, wanted to get through the afternoon without yearning for a glass of wine.
She wanted to look in the mirror and not see a woman who looked harder and colder every single day.
“Get in,” he said again, raising his voice over a boom of thunder.
No. The word was no, but as everyone in the entire universe knew, she had a little problem saying it. “Actually,” she began, and sent him a smile she hoped looked halfway genuine, “I-”
“You’re not changing your mind about coming to my house,” he said. “Not after that expensive dinner.”
Her brows knitted. “I never said I’d go to your house.”
“Sweetheart, it was implied.” His hand, low on her spine, became firm as he tried to get her inside his car.
“No.” She lifted her chin, and with rain coming down into her face, looked into his now cooling eyes. “No.” She backed out of his grip and stood beneath the restaurant awning next to the valet. “Thank you for dinner, but good night.”
His jaw went tight, and suddenly not a single bit of that earlier hunkiness she’d seen in him showed.
What was it with her? Did she have a “looking for an asshole” sign on her forehead?
“I won’t call you again,” he warned.
She nearly laughed, but it would have come out half-hysterical so she bit it back. “I know. I don’t want you to.”
Now temper filled his eyes along with the annoyance, and she just sighed as he sped off, screeching out of the parking lot. Yeah, she sure could pick them. She opened her cell again and dialed Mel. It took her two tries, which told her she was either a bit more tipsy than she’d thought, or thoroughly shaken. Maybe some combination of both.
“Anderson Air,” came Mel’s voice, sounding extremely out of breath, and extremely distracted.
Dimi frowned. “You’re on your way back from the Bay?”
“No.”
“Okay, good.” Dimi reached out and gripped the back of the bench beneath the awning for balance, a little unnerved to find herself weaving. “I need a ride from-”
“I’m still in San Francisco. Grounded by the storm.”
“Oh.” Dimi looked out into the dark night and felt…alone. Extremely, frighteningly alone. “Are you stuck in the airport?”
“Uh, no.” Mel hesitated. “I’m getting a room, we’re nearly at the hotel now.”
“We?” Dimi staggered back a step. “You, and…Bo?” She realized she’d only been mildly upset by her date, at least compared to this. “Mel. You can’t-”
“Look, tell it to Mother Nature, okay? I’m sorry I can’t pick you up. I thought you were on a date.”
“Were being the operative word.”
“Oh, God.” Mel’s voice softened. “What happened? Are you okay? Was he a jerk? Goddamn this weather-”
“I have a feeling I’m better off than you are.” Dimi’s throat went thick at all the worry and love in Mel’s voice. “Hey, listen, I’m okay. But you…You be careful.”
“Right back atcha,” Mel said.
Dimi nodded even though she knew Mel couldn’t see her, and closed her phone. The chilly rain brought goose bumps out on her arms, and she hugged herself.
“Ma’am?” The valet stood in front of her with an umbrella. “Do you need me to call you a cab?”
Cabs were few and far between in the city, where most everyone drove themselves. The thought of waiting around seemed to bring her down even further. “No, thanks.” She opened her cell again, accessed her saved numbers and tried Kellan. No answer. She hit the next number, which would be Ritchie, and waited.
“’Lo,” came the sleepy voice.
Dimi blinked. “Ritchie?”
“Danny.”
She stared at her phone. She’d hit the wrong number. Oh, God. Anyone but him, the one guy she’d rather not have see her this way. Not again. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Dimi.” He sounded wide awake now. “What’s the matter?”
Just the sound of his voice tightened her throat. Pathetic. She was pathetic being on the verge of a breakdown tonight. So she’d had a bad date. Again. She should be used to it. She wasn’t the type of woman who men treated nicely. “Nothing’s the matter. Sorry I woke you.” She shut the phone and shoved it in her purse. “Idiot,” she told herself, huddled beneath the awning as the storm kicked it up a notch. “You’re an idiot-”
Her cell began vibrating. She reached into her purse and looked at it. Danny. Slowly she flipped the cell open.
“Just tell me if you need help,” he said without a greeting. “Because I sure as hell can’t go back to sleep until I know.”
She winced, touched the phone to her forehead and scrunched her eyes tight as regret, pride, and stupidity all played tag with each other in her brain.
“Dimi.”
She sighed. Oh, what the hell, he’d asked. “I could use a ride,” she admitted.
“Your date went bad.”
“Just a little bit, yeah.”
To give him credit, he didn’t say a word about that. “Where are you?”
She told him. “I could just catch a cab-”
“Don’t move.” Disconnect.
With a sigh, she sat on the fancy bench in front of the fancy restaurant to wait, and tried not to think. In twelve minutes flat, Danny pulled up with a screech, getting out of his big, beat-up truck and into the rain.
Tonight he wore a pair of jeans loose on his lean hips, flip-flops, and a T-shirt worn thin at all the seams that said BITE ME across the chest and was getting wetter by the second.
She stared at the words on his shirt, feeling something tighten deep inside her.
He was a fellow rebel.
How had she missed that about him? He looked rumpled, sleepy, and unsmiling as he strode right to her, pulled her up from the bench and peered into her face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry-”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
He looked her over as if needing to make sure for himself, then let out a breath. “Okay, then.”
How was it that she’d never noticed how cute he was? His blond hair, wet now, fell nearly to his shoulders, with a stubborn strand stabbing him in the eyes. His mouth was grim at the moment but when he smiled, which she knew he did with ease, it was never cruel. Nothing mean ever crossed those lips.
Those lips. She couldn’t tear her gaze off them, which she had to attribute to the sheer volume of alcohol she’d consumed, because she didn’t care about lips. Why should she when she never kissed? Never wanted to?
But from deep within her she craved his lips, his kiss. It made no sense, but clearly, tonight, she wasn’t about making sense. Compounding error on error, she leaned in and touched his mouth with hers.