Chapter 19
Rhys
Where the hell is she?
I’m at our meeting spot. Waiting. Worrying. Eager.
For our first date at the upscale steak house at the Quintus Hotel.
I run my hand through my hair, cursing under my breath.
I should’ve picked her up.
Keira has been texting me every five minutes.
She’s close, but that does little to ease my worry.
She’s forty minutes late for our date. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she stood me up.
I wanted to pick her up at Phoebe’s so she could stuff her purchases in my trunk, but she insisted on meeting me at the restaurant.
Something about wanting to surprise me. I didn’t push, but now I regret it.
After an afternoon of pampering, Arianna, Phoebe, and Keira were caught in a never-ending gridlock caused by a catastrophic accident that closed a major artery. Since Keira had to return to Phoebe’s house to grab her stuff before coming to meet me, it only made matters worse.
I’m about to shoot her a text to get an update, when I spot a gorgeous woman striding to my table.
I do a double take.
Keira?
Since she arrived in LA, Keira has been hanging out in a bikini, unless she’s sporting her trademark short-shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops. The stunning woman smiling at me takes my breath away.
I stand up to greet her and take her in.
From the arresting design of her dress, to her silver strappy high heels, to her dainty toes painted in the same hot pink shade as her dress, to her barely there makeup that enhances her beauty, and the diamond studs that pierce her ears. Keira looks like the woman of my dreams.
“You made it safe and sound,” I say.
“I’m so sorry for being this late, Rhys. This is so embarrassing.” A remorseful expression morphs her beautiful features.
“You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
“God has a funny sense of humor.”
“What do you mean?”
“After waiting years––and I mean, years––to grant my wish, He orchestrates a freaking nightmare of an accident that causes me to be forty-five minutes late for my first date. Sheesh. You’d think God would show me a little compassion.
But no, He decides not to cooperate. Tardiness isn’t sexy.
” She lifts her eyes to the ceiling. “Not cool, God. Not cool.”
She’s talking super fast, and it makes me grin.
I tap the tip of her nose.
“I wasn’t going anywhere, dimples. I would’ve waited all night long, if I had to.”
She giggles like a schoolgirl.
I lean in, my lips flirting with her ear. “You look ravishing, and if I didn’t think we’d draw too much attention, I’d kiss the hell out of you.”
I pull away and take pleasure at the blush creeping across her cheeks.
“It’s the new me… courtesy of you,” she says.
“Two and a half days of shopping? A girl can’t ask for much more.
I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” Her sincerity is touching.
“And thanks for the compliment.” She smiles.
“You look pretty hot yourself.” She eats me up with her eyes.
“You wear a suit so well you should be forced to walk around with a license.”
I laugh. “Thanks, but I’m not the one causing heads to turn. You are.” I wave a finder up and down her body. “I love everything about the new look.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Check this out. Pockets!” She slides her phone out. From the way her hand shakes, I’m guessing she’s a little nervous. “If tuxedos have pockets, cocktail dresses should receive the same treatment.”
“You’re hilarious, as usual.”
“There’s nothing usual about tonight.”
“You’re right,” I say. “The new hair color suits you.”
“Thanks. That took a lot of convincing.”
“Why the reticence?”
“In a city like LA, being a blonde is a foregone conclusion. It’s something that never appealed to me. According to Phoebe’s hairdresser, blonde is the only way to go with my short hair. He was adamant. Both Arianne and Phoebe had to lobby pretty hard.”
Her shapeless cut has been replaced with a cover model hairstyle––short and tapered in the back with longer layers on the top of her head.
Unable to resist, I comb my fingers through her silky soft strands. “I love the hair.”
“I love it, too.”
“The blonde brings out the gold in your hazel-green eyes,” I say. “And the purple and gold shades of your eye shadow make your eyes pop like crazy.”
“I agree,” she says in a small voice.
“Are you turning shy on me?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Come on, you’ve known me forever.”
“I have a thousand butterflies fluttering in my belly. I’m that nervous,” she says. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”
Tracing her chin with my fingertip, I say, “It’s happening, dimples.”
She places a hand over mine, and smiles.
“This dress on you…” I let my words trail as my gaze travels down the length of her body, appreciating every delicious inch of her.
Keira is clad in a hot pink dress with thin spaghetti straps and a seductive neckline that showcases the swell of her breasts. The bodice fits her slender body to perfection. The lower part of the dress flares out. Everything she’s wearing is on point.
“It’s such a departure from the super skimpy outfits I used to wear on stage or in our videos,” she says. “I was told this is a midi length because the hem hits me mid-calf. I feel feminine in this dress.”
I lean into her. “You look smoking hot in it.” I murmur in her ear. “I can’t wait to find out which of the French Appliqué lingerie you’re hiding underneath it.”
“That’s quite the conversation starter,” she says, fanning her face.
“Let’s sit down.”
“Okay.”
I pull a chair for her, and she lowers herself to the seat in an elegant movement.
I turn around just as a waiter strides towards me.
He hands me the bouquet of flowers.
“Thank you,” I say before standing near Keira. “These are for you, dimples.”
Her eyes lift up and she gasps. “For me?”
I nod. “For you. It’s our first date, after all.” I hand her the flowers.
“Oh my God, Rhys. Purple roses.”
“They’re your favorites.”
“You remembered?”
“Why did that come out as a question?”
She shrugs.
“I remember every little detail about you, dimples.” I bend down and kiss her forehead.
She smiles up at me.
I wink.
That smile takes over her gorgeous face.
I round the table and sit across from her.
“I ordered champagne––rosé, your favorite. It’s on ice.”
“That would be lovely.” She drops the bouquet on an unoccupied chair. “These are so beautiful, Rhys. And the bouquet is enormous.”
“The purple roses don’t hold a candle to the woman sitting across from me.”
Her gaze locks onto mine, and we stare at each other for a long beat.
This night has been a long time coming.
“Mr. Casanova.”
“I prefer Mr. Smooth Talker, but that’s just me.” I shrug.
She laughs.
“Time for a drink.” I motion to the waiter
He approaches, balancing two flutes on a tray. After thanking him, he hurries off.
I lift my glass.
She mimics me.
“Here’s to me finally getting my head out of my ass,” I say.
She laughs.
“I mean, here’s to me getting down and dirty with my fantasy girl.”
She laughs harder.
“I got it wrong again,” I say. “I don’t date much or else I’d be more eloquent.”
Her expression turns serious.
“It’s most likely not going to be uncomplicated between us.”
“I want to get complicated with you,” she says.
“Since I might be a little rusty in the dating game, do you promise to take it easy on me?”
“Only if you promise to return the favor.”
“I promise,” I say with a wink.
We clink our glasses and drink in celebration.
Dinner was outstanding. No surprise there. Larkin wouldn’t have it any other way. Since it was Keira’s first time at Charcoal, she was blown away by the experience. The advantage of dating someone you know and care for is bypassing the tedious small talk.
We drive back to my house in a comfortable silence, stealing furtive side glances every so often. The energy between us is hot enough to light up firecrackers.
We approach the house hand in hand.
“Your place or mine?” Her tone is playful—Keira-like.
I play along. “You choose. I’m easy.”
“If we go to your place, do you promise to drive me back to mine in the morning?”
She kills me.
“Promise,” I say.
“Thank God. I’d hate to do the walk of shame to the bus stop in the morning.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Glad I’m dealing with a gentleman.”
“Fair warning, once I get you behind closed doors, I might not be such a gentleman.”
“Duly noted,” she says.
The mental countdown to losing myself between her legs started the second she arrived at the restaurant looking like a fucking goddess. I have to focus on driving with a hard-on.
When we arrive at my place, I park the car, get out, and circle the front of the vehicle to help her out. I wrap my hand around her shoulders and guide her to the house, doing my best to tame the beast inside.
We make our way inside the house, trailing towards the kitchen. After finding a vase, I place the purple roses inside it, and slide the bouquet along the countertop. “We’ll find a better place for them in the morning.”
“Sounds good.” There’s a tremolo to her voice.
I turn around, lean against the counter, and hold her gaze.
“Full disclosure, I’m a little––a lot––nervous,” she says.
I approach her and cup her beautiful face in my hands. “I won’t rush you.”
I want her so much it hurts, but I’m willing to take it slow.
“Okay,” she says.
“Are you a virgin?”
She shakes her head.
She’s no longer saving herself for me.
“No, but compared to your uncomplicated hookups––”
“Don’t,” I say. “This night is about you.”
She responds with a shy nod.
“Can I ask how many guys you’ve been with?”
She averts her gaze.
“I asked you a question, Keira.”
“Can I ask you the same question?” she says, meeting my gaze.
“I’ve been with a number of women, but I’ve always used protection and I get tested regularly.” There’s no point in lying to her. “That said, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”
“Really?” Her eyes grow as wide as quarters.
“Really. I wasn’t joking when I told you to take it easy on me.”