Chapter Six #2
“That’s not the point. I’ve been handling my life just fine. I don’t need you trying to shield me—my father does that enough.”
Danny held her gaze for a few seconds and then gave a quick nod. “Fair enough.”
Their server reappeared, pushing a coffee cart. She lit a bowl of incense, then roasted green coffee beans until they darkened, ground the beans and boiled them in water in a brown clay pot called a jebena.
“Try it with sugar first,” Danny advised.
Isabella took a cautious sip. The coffee was strong and sweet, with notes of earth and spice. “This is really good, but I may be up all night.”
“It’s worth it.” Danny polished off his coffee and gave a firm shake of his head when she reached for her purse.
“I’m paying. I wanted to take you out, get to know Isabella Strickland,” the blue in his eyes deepened as he reached for his wallet, “the grown woman.” He signaled the server for the bill, then glanced at it, and gave it back to her with his credit card.
“Thank you.” The words sounded more formal than she’d intended.
This wasn’t a date.
Still, when his hand settled lightly on her lower back as he guided her out of the restaurant and to his car, awareness rippled through her.
She should have stepped away, but she didn’t.
Outside, Isabella slid onto the soft, black leather seat of the Mustang.
It was in excellent condition. Clean floor mats. Seats and dashboard glossy. It even smelled good, courtesy of the scented tree hanging from the rearview mirror. In high school, Danny had driven a dark green Toyota that he’d named Brooke after a TV character.
“Does this car have a name?”
His cheeks pinkened. “Consuela.”
An irrational surge of jealousy licked through her veins. “Former girlfriend?”
“Something like that.”
She let it drop. The last thing she wanted was to hear about a woman who’d shared Danny’s bed. One of many, for sure.
“Up for a little drive?” he asked. “Consuela needs to stretch her legs.”
“I’m not sure…”
The Mustang rumbled to life with a throaty purr. “You’re perfectly safe with me.”
Physically? Probably. Emotionally?
It had been too easy this evening to enjoy Danny’s company.
He was the same as she remembered, yet different. Older, more mature. A touch guarded and with a restraint he hadn’t had before. But the Danny Mayhew she’d idolized as a young girl—the laughing, flirtatious, popular boy—still lingered in his smile and the crinkles around his eyes.
His expression sobered. “If you want me to take you straight home, I will.”
A little more time in Danny’s company wouldn’t hurt. She shook her head. “A drive would be…nice.”
At this hour, the traffic was lighter on the beltway. Danny let the Mustang cruise in the left lane. He turned on music, and the soft, soulful sounds of a modern country artist washed over her.
“What do you like, Bella?”
She frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”
“Favorite foods? Favorite movies? Favorite color? Do you like to travel?”
Her brain froze. “Uh…”
The fact that she was thirty years old and couldn’t answer those simple questions off the top of her head felt like an indictment of her personality.
“I like Italian food best, I guess. My favorite color is pink, and although I travel for work, I don’t see much of the city I’m in because I’m too busy working. My favorite movie?” She chewed her lip, thinking. “I guess it would be Roman Holiday even though the ending makes me a bit sad.”
“Roman Holiday?” Danny grinned. “A classic. You realize that movie is about a princess sneaking away from her responsibilities to have adventures, right?”
Her back stiffened. “So? What’s your point?”
His laughter filled the Mustang. “No point, princess.”
She said nothing. Silence settled between them.
“She returns to her responsibilities, not the guy,” Danny added.
Isabella kept her gaze firmly on the passing scenery. “That’s why the ending makes me a bit sad.”
Shifting in her seat, she faced him. Time to get this conversation off her. “Your turn.”
Unlike her, he answered immediately. “I like most foods, but I have a hard time with rubbery things like snails, mussels, and calamari. My favorite movie is The Princess Bride. My favorite color is blue but,” he took his eyes off the road and glanced her way with an expression she couldn’t decipher, “I’m also partial to golden-brown.
I travel a lot for work, so when I have free time, I like to take Consuela on road trips to wherever the mood moves me. ”
Exactly what she would have expected. Adventurous, free-spirited, and her total opposite. Except…
“Your favorite movie is The Princess Bride?”
“Sure. It’s got sword fights, pirates, giants, and it’s funny as hell. Plus, you gotta admire Westley’s determination—the guy gets stabbed, tortured, ends up mostly dead, and he still doesn’t quit until he gets the girl.”
Something warm unfurled inside her. “You’re a romantic at heart.”
He looked away. “Nah. I just appreciate someone who doesn’t give up on the mission.”
They drove until the sun slipped away, and the planes landing at Charlotte-Douglas International were stars lining up in the sky.
He pulled into her driveway and turned off the engine. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Going to my actual job at AegisShield.” She sighed. “I still have work to do preparing for a defense expo in the UK in November.”
Leather creaked as Danny shifted to face her. “Working for a company that sells missile systems. I would have never pictured you in the defense industry.”
He didn’t phrase it as a question. Probably because he had her life story in a file folder somewhere.
Her spine stiffened. Again. She was going to need to do some yoga poses at this rate just to bend over.
“Missile defense systems.” She knew exactly what he was implying. “And I organize trade events.”
The question wasn’t new. Neither was the assumption that Senator Strickland’s daughter had been handed the job. She’d earned her place at AegisShield.
Danny gave a mock shudder. “Which means you’re dealing with too many people with stars on their shoulder boards and government officials who act like they have stars on their shoulder boards. Better you than me.”
The humor in his eyes forced a smile to her lips. “I’ve learned how to handle the egos.”
She stepped out of the car. “Thank you for dinner.”
Danny followed. “I’m walking you to the door, Bella. And, just so we’re clear, I’m not looking to be invited in.”
She was not disappointed.
His presence was a solid wall behind her—a wall that felt oddly comforting even though she lived in a perfectly safe neighborhood.
When they reached the front stoop, she dug in her purse for her keys. Trip barked a welcome from inside the house.
“Thank you again. I had a nice time.” He was standing so close that the difference in their heights was even more striking. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
He smelled of the ocean and driftwood—like the beach on a warm, sunny day. And if she closed her eyes, she could picture him as a teenager in his brightly patterned board shorts, bare-chested, throwing a football with friends across the sand as the tide lapped at their ankles.
“You’re welcome.” His voice had gone all husky.
Her eyes flew open. Crap. Had she actually closed them while standing this close to him, her head tilted up, as if expecting a kiss?
He was watching her too closely with the same heated look he’d given her at the restaurant when he’d been putting on a show for the reporter.
Heat flushed her cheeks.
Silence hung between them, thick with humidity and tension.
A curtain came down over Danny’s expression, shuttering it. He stepped back, letting her draw a full breath. “Let’s go over the gala guest list tomorrow after you get home from work. I’ll bring takeout. How’s Indian sound?”
Before she could sputter out a reply, he’d returned to his car. She backed inside and closed her door, then peered through her front window as the Mustang’s red taillights disappeared around the corner.
In less than twelve hours, Danny Mayhew had upended her quiet, orderly existence.
Trip nudged her hand.
She patted him on the head with a sigh and glanced around her living room. She’d wanted more color, but Talia had convinced her a neutral palette would stay current longer, leaving only the bedroom as her minor rebellion.
Speaking of Talia, she needed advice—from someone she trusted.
After pouring herself a glass of wine, she curled up on the couch and called her friend.
“You’re not going to believe who showed up as the new head of security for my dad’s event,” she blurted out the second Talia answered her phone. “Danny Mayhew.”
“Wait, why is that name familiar?” Talia’s gasp buffeted Isabella’s ear. “Oh my God. Your high school crush. Lunch tomorrow. I want to know everything!”
“It’s a date.”