He’d talked her into dinner by respecting the fine line she drew between work and pleasure. As much as he desired to kiss her, hold her, feel her body around his, he’d have to let things progress without pushing too hard too fast. Somehow.
“Coffee?” Her soft voice broke into his thoughts.
He nodded. “That would be great.”
“Make yourself at home while I go make us some.” She gestured to the small couch with a sweep of her hand. “I should warn you, though, it won’t be freshly ground,” she said as she disappeared into her kitchen.
“I’ll manage,” he said, laughing.
She peeked out from behind the dividing wall. “Good, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to invite you back.”
He was just glad she wanted him here.
She disappeared back into the small kitchen area.
While waiting for her to finish making their coffee, he glanced around, seeing the personal touches and changes Amy had put on the apartment. Over the plain white wooden slatted blinds, Amy had put up new ruffled curtains that gave the place a womanly feel. She’d added plants on the windowsills and photographs of palm trees, of pink and yellow homes and southern landscapes on the walls. So feminine. So Amy.
“Coffee is served,” she said, returning with two white mugs. “I remembered you ordered yours with a little milk, no sugar at the restaurant, so that’s the way I made it. But if you want to add anything, just let me know.” She placed both mugs on coasters on a glass table in front of the couch.
“Thanks. I’m sure its perfect.”
He sat beside her on the sofa, keenly aware of her sweet scent. “I love the changes you made to the apartment,” he said, reminding himself to take things slow. “Especially the curtains.”
She smiled in appreciation. “They’re homemade.”
“That makes it even nicer.” He took a sip of the too-strong, practically burnt coffee and somehow managed not to wince.
“Well?” She rocked back and forth in her seat, eager for his approval.
“Delicious.” He even managed to keep a straight face. Insulting her coffee wouldn’t exactly endear him to her. “So how do you like living in New York?” he asked.
“It’s different. The pace is faster, the expectations higher, but somehow I’m loving it.” Her eyes glittered with an excitement he found arousing.
She’d kicked off her black pumps. Her simple black dress was casual and not intentionally seductive. She wore just enough makeup to accent her pretty features, but not enough to disguise her freckles or tan.
At a glance she was so Floridian-laid-back and at ease-but inside, he knew she had definite strength of character. He admired the adventurous spirit it took to pick up her life and move to a new city. This strong woman drew him to her and he found it difficult not to put his coffee cup down and pull her into his arms, showing her just how much he desired her.
“I’m glad you’re happy here. It’s better than being homesick.” He leaned back and lay one arm over the couch cushion, feigning relaxing though his body was strung tight.
She nodded. “True. I miss my family and the warm weather, but this change was way overdue.”
“So how did you end up working at the retirement community in the first place?” he asked, taking advantage of the opening to learn more about her.
She placed her coffee mug on the table and he followed her lead.
“Let’s see. I didn’t start that way. I graduated college with a degree in social work. I took a job working for the state. It was heartbreaking and difficult, but I was making a difference in the world.”
“So what happened?”
“My mother happened. My boss was extremely conservative. All he cared about was propriety and how our behavior reflected the office and the work we did.”
“Which shouldn’t be an issue for you. You’re the epitome of propriety.” But obviously her mother wasn’t.
Amy curled her legs beneath her and the hem of her dress slipped higher, creeping up her thighs.
His mouth grew dry. His fingers itched to slip his hand beneath the short dress and touch her bare skin in an intimate caress.
“Propriety isn’t easy to come by in a family like mine,” she said, obviously unaware of the direction of his thoughts.
Amy was exactly what he saw. She was real and she appealed to him on a gut level. One that forced his imagination to go into overdrive. He wondered what she wore beneath the dress and drew a long, steadying breath.
“My mother and my aunt have this tendency to get themselves arrested for things like indecent exposure and being a public nuisance.”
He couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s funny.”
She shook her head. “Not to the man who hired me. Or to his very proper boss.”
“Go on.” He squeezed her hand, encouraging her to tell him the rest. “I promise I won’t laugh.”
“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.” She smiled, surprising him. “Mom got a part-time job at a wig store in town. Not just any wig store but one specializing in wigs for cancer patients. She took it on herself to advertise during the annual Halloween Parade.” Amy paused, picked up her mug and took a sip of her vile coffee, keeping him in suspense.
Not wanting her to question him about his drink, he took a sip from his mug, too.
“Anyway, Mom dressed up as Lady Godiva wearing nothing but a long wig and a sign with the shop’s name around her neck.”
He nearly spit out his coffee in shock. “Oh, God.”
Her own mouth twitched with humor over the situation. “The police called me to come get her. I bailed her out, but she’d already gotten the press she wanted, including a photograph of her wearing the sign on the front page of the paper with me walking beside her on her way home from jail.”
“Let me guess. Your boss lacked a sense of humor?”
She nodded. “I was damned immediately. Guilt by association. That’s when I decided somebody needed to keep an eye on my mother and keep her in check. Since my father died, she’d become even more outrageous. So I moved back home. Uncle Spencer had just bought land with some real-estate partners and they were developing a seniors’ community. I stepped right in and took over.”
He shook his head. “You have some very interesting relatives.”
“Coming from you, that’s quite a statement,” she said, laughing.
“Good point.” He glanced down at their hands. He still held hers and she hadn’t pulled away. “I take it this is why you hate being on the receiving end of publicity?”
Amy nodded. “It’s part of the reason.” She didn’t know how to further explain, but she tried. “My dad was nothing like my mom. From the time I was little, he taught me the importance of making a difference. He was a lawyer who specialized in family law and he did his part to make the world a better place.”
He squeezed her hand lightly and she appreciated the gesture. She smiled, and one look into his eyes told her his understanding wasn’t an act. He got what she was saying.
What she couldn’t explain to him, what she didn’t want to even admit to herself, was that her fear of the press went deeper. Being fired from her first job just for being photographed beside her naked mother reinforced her belief that her mother’s wildness was a trait she had to suppress-in her parent and in herself. Because a secret part of Amy admired her mother’s brazenness. That same part sometimes yearned to be set free so she could jump in pools on a whim and openly enjoy life without fear.