Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
One step at a time had helped, but he’d still needed four attempts to get his tie right before his date.
Yeah, a tie. Because Rouges was a swanky place.
Restaurants with a Michelin star usually were.
Although he hoped a jacket and tie would never be required at Nanine’s.
Rather ruined the fun, if you asked him.
He swayed a little in the mirror, making him worry he might need to take Kyle up on his offer: “We’ll walk you to the table if this whole agent thing throws your balance off for the rest of the day.”
He’d wanted to bro hug Golden Boy so hard for that.
Only it was the thought of seeing Phoebe again that had him off-balance. When he’d awoken late this morning—because he hadn’t fallen asleep until around four—he’d been as excited about seeing her again as he was about talking to the agents.
That had to mean something, didn’t it?
He checked himself in the mirror, taking in the suit Brooke had suggested he buy when they were out shopping for outfits for Thea’s wedding.
Girl had a serious eye. He wouldn’t have tried on the rose-colored suit and the gunmetal gray silk tie with an ivory silk shirt, but it had been next level.
Dashing. Sophisticated. A little artsy given the rose color.
When he came down the stairs, Brooke was waiting along with the others, Madison included, meaning she’d dashed back to the house just to see him off. Jesus!
Brooke tugged his jacket down and ran her hands over his shoulders. “It’s perfect, and don’t worry. I sent Thea and Jean Luc home. They had dinner with his family tonight so it wasn’t like Thea would suspect anything.”
“What is he, the bride now, where you can’t see him before the wedding?” Madison smothered a laugh. “Nice threads, Doc.”
“I’ll say.” Dean let out a shrill whistle. “You got swag.”
“Très chic,” Jacqueline echoed.
“Brooke did well.” Kyle flicked a hand toward him. “You look like a famous artist, Doc.”
Then you have everybody fooled. He didn’t like that thought from his inner critic, and since he couldn’t bring out his figurative pastel sword and slice at it, he shoved it to the back of his mind as if it were a dusty box in the attic.
Forget that naysayer. He had his first agent, and she was the shit. Tonight he was going on a date with an incredible woman. Dr. Sawyer Jackson was going to seize the day and enjoy it all.
“You need help getting there, Doc?” Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “Lady Jacs and I can drop you off at the restaurant.”
“Or Axel and I can,” Brooke added.
“I think I can make it,” he assured them.
Although he might be gripping his knees under the table to keep present. He was still a little light-headed, and one look at Phoebe, and he’d likely be a goner.
“At least let me call you a car.” Dean took out his phone. “You holler if you need anything. We can pick you up afterward too.”
“He’s not a kid going to a slumber party where there will be too much pizza and horror movies,” Madison told everyone. “But I do expect you to be home by midnight, Doc. Or my cleaver is coming out of the box.”
That had him dissolving into laughter. “You’re worried about me going home with her? God, that’s kinda funny. I usually don’t move that fast.”
“She might,” Madison added without missing a beat. “Don’t let her rush you. It’s been a big day. You tell her that. Also, let her know that she’s going to deal with me if you come home upset.”
So she was here to lay down the law?
“Noted. But, Madison, you really should be at the restaurant.”
“I had a window,” she only demurred.
Maybe it was the champagne or that feeling of walking on the clouds, but he didn’t care.
He took a step toward her. She immediately turned wary.
When he extended his hand, she reluctantly took it.
He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it.
Shock rippled across her face before she gave in to a small smile.
Also quickly extinguished, but there all the same.
“You’re really feeling the suit, aren’t you, Doc?” Madison crossed her arms. “All right, someone call this dashing lunatic a car. I’ve gotta go and wash my hands before I run back.”
Dean laughed. “She’s such a romantic, our Madison.”
Yes, he realized with the kind of sudden insight only a painter would have. She really was. The thought made him rock back on his heels. He was feeling and seeing like an artist.
Turning to look at the rest of his friends, he pulled up short when he saw Kyle staring off in the direction Madison had taken.
Dude was in love with her! Completely. Absolutely! Heart in his eyes and everything. He’d seen the looks before, but now it was as crystal clear as the chimes of Nanine’s chandelier. Man, Golden Boy had to do something about that!
Maybe now wasn’t the time to mention it, though.
Soon Dean was saying his car was there. Brooke was helping him into his coat and adjusting his scarf.
Kyle was leading him to the front door. He remembered how everyone had gathered around first Thea and then Dean for their first dates.
He turned to take in the scene. They were all standing in the foyer—yes, even Madison was back with a small smile on her angular face.
His heart swelled. He noted the composition of how they all stood.
Memorized the colors they were wearing. He was going to paint this scene and call it A Send-Off from Friends.
Inside he didn’t feel the tremor that usually went through him in the wake of such a thought.
He wanted to paint it. He couldn’t wait to paint it.
He might even start tonight. After his date.
“I’ll see you guys later.” He couldn’t help the unrestrained smile he gave them. “Don’t wait up!”
He was closing the door when Madison called, “Sawyer, I meant what I said—”
Someone was laughing. He gave in to a Gregory Hines dance step on the street and opened the car door after confirming it was there for him.
When he arrived at Rouges, his heart gave a leap at the sight of Phoebe standing in the cold night in a long aquamarine coat, her red hair a deep mass of fire in the light from the restaurant.
She smiled and then sauntered over as he exited the car.
He really liked a woman who sauntered, he decided.
Again, his mind froze the frame. The way the golden streetlights captured the highlights in her hair and softened the high crest of her cheekbones and brow line.
How the inky black night above was shot with a cluster of stars.
She seemed alone even though a few other patrons milled around her, their breaths visible in the cold night.
A man hunched over in a tan coat, smoking while a young couple nuzzled each other before entering the restaurant.
But Phoebe was in the center of the painting he was already creating in his mind.
A place she seemed destined to occupy.
She was lit with a fire he wanted to feel warm him.
Her soul shone from her eyes, and it held a million thoughts.
He wanted to hear her every opinion. He wanted to listen to her quote Shakespeare.
He needed to know whether she preferred Voltaire or Rousseau, because he knew she would have a stance on the matter.
“Good evening, Dr. Jackson,” she practically purred.
He was suddenly stepping toward her and taking her gloved hand and lifting it to his lips. “My dear Ms. Anderson. It’s a pleasure.”
“As a greeting, you might have topped my longtime Taming of the Shrew fantasy of meeting Petruchio for the first time.”
Ah, he should have known she wouldn’t choose a simple play or a simple heroine after seeing her with Titus Andronicus at their first meeting.
Kate, the heroine of Taming of the Shrew, was bold and brash and larger than life—like Phoebe.
But he was ready for her all the same. “Sit by my side, and let the world slip…”
“Oh, dear,” she whispered silkily on the night wind after her green eyes brightened in her oval face. “Now, you’ve gone and turned my heart over.”
He wanted to punch the air and laugh. “Good. That’s how I felt when I saw you standing there in all your colors. Shall we?”
When he extended his arm to her, she smiled and slid hers into it. Together they walked into Rouges and turned a few heads.
Seated at their table finally, he watched her eyes take him in. Without her coat, he noted the lavender silk dress with its heart-shaped neckline. She wore a thick strand of rough pearls that seemed to glow against her skin. “You’re so beautiful.”
He had to say it. He couldn’t have gone another minute without her knowing.
Her mauve-painted mouth curved. “Thank you. Consider yourself equally complimented. I especially like the suit. Did you choose it or have Brooke’s help?”
He set the menu he’d picked up aside. There was a thread of something in her voice. “Brooke? Do you know about her from your research? Or something else?”
She made an amused sound. “Ah…I wondered. Your friends didn’t tell you about their midnight sojourn to my gallery and our subsequent discussion. Intriguing.”
“What?”
Shock came, followed by a freaking rush of sweetness. Was it really a surprise that they’d been protective? Nope.
“Do I need to apologize for them?”
“No, not at all.” Her mouth gave a glorious curve. “You are well loved. The scene of them standing under my window whispering about me would have amused audiences in a Shakespeare play, had it been written.”
“Under your window?” He bit his lip to hold back his laughter. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. It pays off to live above the gallery.” She sent him an assuring wink. “Is champagne all right to begin?”
“Absolutely.”
She signaled to the server standing nearby.
“I’m on a roll since I had some earlier.” He scanned the beverage list and pointed to his choice when the man joined them with crisp efficiency. “Deux coupes, s'il vous pla?t.”