Life imitating art.
Her first book.
The chapter I used as inspiration for tonight’s date burns, imprinted in my brain.
God, those eyes. Those shoulders. That ass. Would she ever get sick of watching it walk away? Not in this lifetime… Rachel tried to hide the smile threatening to escape, raising her Chardonnay and studying it. She swirled it then watched as the clear gold liquid crept down the side of the glass, clinging to life. Rachel lowered it then returned it to the table, and watched as Devon re-approached. The butterflies in her stomach flitted and danced carelessly, unaware of the turmoil they caused. These feelings—they weren’t part of the plan; she wasn’t supposed to fall for him this way… she wasn’t supposed to fall for him at all. The room he’d reserved was intimate, down a narrow hall in the back of the dimly lit Italian restaurant, meant for private parties. Three roses sat in a thin vase in the center of their table: red, yellow, and peach. Roses that Devon had placed there himself. The chardonnay. The way he’d found out and ordered her favorite foods… It was all so perfect. But what did it mean? Rachel was both anxious—and scared—to find out…
I push her written words out of my mind. What’s done is done.
Love it or hate it, there’s no turning back now.
Having reached our destination, I easily find a parking spot, pull in, and shift my black sports car into park. I throw open my door and hop out hurriedly, bending at the waist and sticking my head back inside the car to peer in at her. “Don’t. Move.”
I jog around to the passenger seat and pull the passenger side door open. Tabitha’s long, smooth legs appear first, nude high heels hitting the pavement with a tap. My hand reaches for her, and she grasps it, allowing me to assist her out of the car.
The wind throws up a gentle breeze, lifting her hair at the nape of her graceful neck and parting the hem of her dark green dress, à la Marilyn Monroe.
Thank you, wind gods, for that complimentary peep show, although not enough peep to glimpse the goods.
Damn, no such luck.
Tabitha tucks a small purse—handbag, I think girls call it—under the crook of her arm, then runs her hands down her dress, flattening out the wrinkles caused by the wind. She adjusts the sash around her narrow waist, and I notice her flowy dress has a blessedly plunging neckline, exposing an entire eyeful of cleavage that makes my fingers itch.
Of course, I can’t help but admire her amazing tits.
Sorry, I mean breasts. But come on: They. Are. Right. There. The low-cut neckline is an invitation for my eyes to ogle away.
To be completely honest, I’m shocked she’s wearing this dress. This dress means she considers this a real date; this is not a dress you wear when you’re Friend Zoning a guy. It’s a sexy-ass dress you’re able to untie with only a gentle tug to the sash. One you drop to the floor at the end of your date.
The kind of dress you wear when you want him undressing you with his eyes all night.
And tonight, it’s damn good to be Collin Keller.
The fabric is flirty, silky, and light—touchable everywhere. My eyes wander, my hands impatient to shove her back in my car, drive her back to my place, and screw her brains out until she can’t remember a single reason we shouldn’t be here together—and give her a million screaming reasons why we should.
As my eyes rake over her cleavage, again, I wonder if she’s wearing lingerie underneath and what it looks like. My hand settles at the small of her back to guide her towards the restaurant—and hell if it doesn’t graze her ass while I’m checking it out.
Damn fine ass.
Makes me wanna slap it, too.
Mind out of the gutter, Keller.
Inside, we’re greeted by the hostess.
“Hi,” I start, clearing my throat. Here goes nothing. “Party of two for Neumann. That’s N-E-U-M-A-N-N. Not to be confused with New Man.”
Sadly, the hostess’s features remain stoic, not getting my joke and ruining all my fun. Nodding, she motions for us to follow, leading us to the back corner of the restaurant, taking a left to steer us down a hallway. Tabitha glances at me over her shoulder, puzzled, so I feign a shrug, pleading ignorance.
Shit. I hope this wasn’t a mistake.
“Here you go, sir. The private room you requested.” A door opens and the room we enter can only be described as opulent. Lavish. In the center of the secluded dining room, beneath an ornamental crystal chandelier, is a single set table. Draped white linens cover the surface. Candles and a crystal vase of four long-stem roses occupy the center: red, peach, yellow, and lavender. Several steaming plates of Tabitha’s favorite foods have already been served.
The hostess hangs back. “Your sommelier will be back shortly with the Chardonnay.”
Tabitha’s head rears towards me and her smoky eyes widen, appearing a shocking shade of blue. “Collin, what on earth…”
“Now, Rachel, before you say anything, don’t overreact.”
“Why are you calling me Rachel? What… Oh, sweet Jesus.” She looks around, confused. “Did you..? Wait. Is this what I think it is?”
“No?”
Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, skepticism written all over her face. I can’t tell if she wants to smack me or not. “Collin Keller, what is going on? Is this the date scene from the paperback proof you stole?” She whispers this last part. “Be honest.”
“Okay, yes. This is what it looks like. Are you mad?”
She gives pause, sets her purse down on the table, and then rewards me with a smile when I pull the chair out for her, a gentlemanly gesture that has her blue eyes softening.
I know I’ve got her.
Score one for Team Collin.
Nervously, she pushes a few strands of hair behind her ear. Sparkling green emeralds shine in her lobes. “I don’t even know how to be furious with you right now. I’m speechless. Later it might be possible that I’ll want to kill you, but right now… I can’t even believe you did this.”
This is the recreation of the first date scene from her very first book.
This is me romancing a girl who’s making it damn near impossible to romance her.
But I’m sure going to fucking try.
“Give me your best line.” Collin watches me from across the table, taking a forkful of steak and chewing slowly. “Tell me something you’ve only put on paper. In one of your books.”
“It’s only the one book, remember? Well, two. But the second one is just… me playing around.”
He rolls his eyes, still chewing. “Let’s assume there will be more.”
It’s right then that my chest swells and my heart begins beating wildly. Becomes huge. His words release a spark of affection inside me that I can feel—actually feel—blossoming into something bigger.
Something wonderful.
Collin believes in my dream.
Collin believes in… me.
I could leap across the table and kiss him all over his beautiful, sexy, freshly shaven face.
I bet he smells good. All sexy and mannish.
Collin breaks the silence. “Well? If you can’t think of one, I can supply one for you. Confession time: I read your proof three times before giving it back to you. I’ve got a few good zingers locked away up here.” He taps his skull with a forefinger, saying it so casually I have to replay it in my mind a few times.
“Three times!” I sputter ineloquently. “Why?”
“Because it was good?” He lays his fork on his dinner plate and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Mostly I just thought it was nuts that you wrote it. You. That’s what went through my head while I was reading. Holy shit, Tabitha wrote this. I’m in awe of you.” He says it so matter-of-factly, his voice a low purr. “I couldn’t stop picturing you at your laptop in that sexy little baseball hat, pen tucked behind your ear, dreaming up that shit. You’re so fucking smart.”