14. Dante
CHAPTER 14
Dante
I made another loop around the fourteenth floor of the library. I was supposed to be meeting with my team to work on our group project, but I’d been trying to connect with Faith for the past two weeks to apologize for how I’d handled our intimate encounter.
Even though she seemed to like to study on this floor, I couldn’t find her in any of the private study carrels. I’d cruised through a few times I’d been on campus, looking for her. Why should I even give a fuck? It’s not like we were going to start dating or anything.
But still, I was embarrassed as hell at how I’d blown things and hadn’t been able to get her out of my mind. I’d even driven by her apartment a few times. When I ran into Jess at the student center on my way over, she said Faith would probably be at the library now. That’s why I’d grabbed the damn rose from the little floral shop and now paced up and down the halls like a crazed stalker.
I turned the corner and saw Brittany, Bethany, and Bailey sitting at their usual table. “Hey.” I set my books down at one end and claimed my spot.
“Hi, Dante,” said Brittany. “Who’s the flower for?”
“Nobody. I, um, I just found it.”
“Are you sure?” She leaned back in her chair and toyed with her pen, running it along her painted pink bottom lip while she watched me from under heavily made-up eyelids.
“Yep. Here, you can have it.” I tossed the rose at Brittany. It skidded across the table and came to a stop right in front of her. The damn rose had been a stupid idea. I thought it would make a good peace offering, but fuck it. If Faith didn’t want to be found, there were plenty of other women who would want to talk to me. And probably do much more.
“Wow, thanks. I can’t remember the last time a guy gave me flowers.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not flowers , it’s just one, and I didn’t exactly give it to you.”
“Still”—one side of her mouth lifted up in a seductive grin and she raised her eyebrows at me—“roses are the flower of love.”
“Give me a freaking break,” Bailey said. “Can we get back to work?”
“Gladly.” I took off my jacket and tossed it over the back of my chair. I sat down and for the next hour, the three of us argued about how to allocate the marketing budget for the Sashay Salon. After much discussion, we finally came to an agreement and hashed out a plan.
“I think Tameka will be happy with this.” I flipped the cover of my laptop down and shoved it in my bag. “Same time next Wednesday?”
“I can’t make it next week,” said Bethany. “That’s the day before Thanksgiving. I’ll be lounging on the beach with my own cabana boy bringing me pi?a coladas.”
“Oooh, Mexico?” Bailey slid her notebook into her messenger bag.
“Yep.” A dreamy smile played on Bethany’s face. “The folks are flying us all down. Next time you see me I’ll be sporting a tan. Eat your hearts out, ladies.”
“I won’t be here either,” said Bailey. “Can we hold off until the week after?”
“Sure. We can get together when everyone’s back in town. How does that sound?” I stood and pushed my chair up against the table.
“Sounds good to me.” Brittany shrugged into her puffy pink coat. “Aren’t you heading home for Thanksgiving, Dante?”
“Yeah. It’s just that home for me isn’t that far away. Besides, I’ve got to work so I can’t go too far,” I said.
“That’s a drag.” Brittany put her hand on my arm. “Thanks again for the rose.”
A flash of red caught my eye, and I looked up. Faith stood at the end of the bookshelf, her red coat wrapped tight around her, watching the whole exchange.
“Hey, Faith.” I yanked my arm away from Brittany, grabbed my bag and jacket, and took a step toward her.
“Nice rose,” Faith pointed to the rose in Brittany’s hand.
“Thanks, Dante gave it to me.”
“Yellow, huh? Ever read ‘The Age of Innocence’? Wharton had a few things to say about yellow roses.”
Wharton? What the hell was she talking about? Before I could reach her, she turned and walked away. Screw it. I wasn’t going to let her run from me again. “Faith, hey, got a sec?” I jogged to catch up.
Faith
The yellow rose? I ripped off my knit cap and ran a hand through my hair. Where did that come from? I’d spent a good portion of my junior year studying Edith Wharton. My professor at the time had a hang-up about the symbolism of flowers in literature.
Dante took my arm, forcing me to stop. “Hold up.”
I whirled around to face him. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks. God, he looked good. I lifted a hand to run it across the dark stubble covering his chin, but stopped myself at the last second and pushed my hair back behind my ear instead.
“Are you pissed at me?” His eyes darted over my face.
I looked away. “No. I’m not pissed at you. I’m pissed at myself. I’m embarrassed and mortified, okay? It has nothing to do with you.”
Dante rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “It sure as hell does have something to do with me. You thinkyou’reembarrassed?” He put a finger under my chin and tilted my face up toward his. “Hey, look at me.”
Why did he have to touch me? I lost access to all rational thought when his skin connected with mine. “What?”
My lower lip stuck out in a half pout. I’d tried to forget about that night in the car, the way his lips felt on mine, the way it made me feel to feel wanted. Trouble was, no matter how many times I pushed thoughts of Dante Bishop from my head, they always returned. Thanks to our little tryst, my writer’s block had been obliterated, and I’d been able to outline the three books Steph needed by just picturing those blazing blue-green eyes and the way his mouth felt pressing into mine.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to track you down for the past two weeks to apologize. That flower...I bought it for you. It was supposed to be a peace offering. Jess said she thought you’d be here studying. I couldn’t find you, so I tossed it at Brittany.”
“You bought me a flower?” I couldn’t remember the last time a guy had bought me flowers. It had to be in high school. Maybe a corsage for a dance or something.
“Yeah. What’s the deal about the yellow rose, anyway?”
I flushed. “Nothing. It’s just that the main character in the book buys a yellow rose for his wife’s cousin, the one he wants to sleep with.”
Dante’s eyes widened. “The chick at the flower shop told me yellow roses mean friendship.”
“Well, yeah, most people think they do now. But back in the late 19th century, it meant something different.”
“Remind me to never send you flowers. I’d hate to say something I didn’t mean.” A smile played on his lips.
Warm, soft, kissable lips. Dammit. “Friendship, huh? Peruvian lilies would have been a better choice. You can never go wrong with those.”
“I’ll try to remember that next time I want to give afrienda flower. So, are you going or coming?” Dante’s face flushed at his unintentional innuendo.
I smiled. “I just got here, if that’s what you mean. Are you heading out?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to get to work. I was wondering, can we get together sometime?”
My heart skipped a beat. Together...I didn’t have time for together. As much as my body ached for the touch of his hands and my mouth craved the taste of him, he wasn’t part of my plan. I’d seen what happened when people gave in to all-consuming passion and blazing heat. It didn’t last. Security, shared interests, common goals, those were the things I needed.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d like to pretend that night never happened. It won’t do any good for us to get together. I just don’t have time in my life for anything but work right now.”
Well, work and the fantasy life I’d created for the two of us on my laptop. He’d consumed my thoughts and thanks to the inspiration, I’d made it a quarter of the way through my next novel. Main characters Dante and Faith. I’d have to change the names later, but I was enjoying my erotic fantasy too much for the time being.
Although, I’d reached a point in the plot and was having some trouble. What if I let myself have one night with Dante? Just one to see if that would give me enough inspiration to finish my book and end my writer’s block for good?
“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t have time right now either. In fact, I’ve got to get to the office.” Dante glanced at his watch. “Yep. Sorry, I’ve gotta go. See you around, Faith.” He wheeled around and covered the distance to the elevator in just a few steps.
As I watched him go, my mind rapidly attempted to process the possibility of a one-night stand. Would one night be enough? Did I have enough nerve to even suggest it?
He didn’t turn around, not even when the elevator door opened and he stepped inside. Maybe it would be better this way. The Dante in my head was much easier to control. I could make him do all kinds of things to me on paper without any of the emotional turmoil seeing the real Dante dredged up.
But somehow, my imaginary Dante didn’t smell the same as the musky, male, touchable version. And my pretend Dante didn’t make my heart skip a beat or cause my words to get caught up in my throat when I tried to speak.
Dammit. As the elevator doors slid shut, I swallowed the lump of apprehension in my throat.
“Hey, hold the elevator, will you?”