Lessons of the Heart (26 page)

I smile to myself while rolling over onto my stomach and propping my head on my hands to look around the room for the first time. It’s almost exactly as I have pictured it, clean yet masculine with nothing out of place. It’s small, but then again his house isn’t very large to begin with. There’s a chest of drawers on the opposite wall next to a tiny door that I assume is his closet. An armoire is on the wall next to me and I wonder why a guy would need that much dresser space.

Curiosity is getting the better of me as I climb out of bed and pick up his discarded shirt from last night to put on. I walk to the closet to peek inside and find that it’s smaller than the closet in his office at school. You could barely fit a handful of clothes inside it, let alone a full season’s wardrobe. Now I see the reason behind the multiple dressers.

I shake my head and shut the door. When I turn around, a smirking green-eyed man is standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants that hang deliciously low on his hips. My heart stutters a beat at the sight but quickly regains its normal rhythm when my eyes meet his.

“It’s a little early to be snooping, don’t you think?” he asks in an amused tone.

“It’s never too early to discover things about your lover, especially when he fails to give you the grand tour of his house.”

James slowly walks toward me, heat and desire flash in his eyes as they travel up and down the length of my body. Goose bumps erupt across my flesh as he reaches up to gently cup my face.

“Your lover, huh?”

I look down as my cheeks heat up, wishing I wasn’t so awkward sometimes when I’m around him. He tilts my chin up toward him as my lower lip disappears between my teeth.

“I’m not sure that word is strong enough for us.”

“What term would you use then?” I whisper while twisting the hem of his shirt between my fingers. He gently frees the material from my grasp and pulls my hand to his lips to kiss each of my knuckles.

“My intended? My match? The woman of my dreams whom I can’t live without?”

“That’s quite the mouthful,” I say. “Isn’t there something simpler to use? Boyfriend perhaps?”

“Definitely not boyfriend. If I didn’t prove to you last night and again this morning that I’m more than a boy, then I need to give you another reminder.”

“You’re right. Definitely not boyfriend but manfriend sounds rather stupid, don’t you think?”

He laughs and picks me up off my feet, gently throwing me onto the bed. I bounce lightly as my hair falls around my head and catches in my mouth. His hand gently sweeps the strands away before lowering his body onto mine, letting me feel each and every hard piece of it.

“The best term I can find to describe what I am to you would be simple. It’s one little word, but it takes everything that I feel and rolls it into one tiny package.” His nose traces my jawline and my eyelids flutter closed at the sensation.

“And what’s that?” I ask, clutching his back as my legs wrap tightly around his waist.

James lifts up onto his elbows, further brushing away any stray hairs that are obstructing our view to each other.

“Yours.”

He smiles down at me as I let that word sink into my subconscious.
Yours
. That’s how he would describe himself to me.
Yours.

“I like that,” I say. My fingers trail down his back with feather light strokes.

“The same can be said for you. You are mine.”

“Always.” I lean up to press our lips together, sealing the words and cementing them into our reality. I am his and he is mine. Possession and passion fuel our desires again as his shirt leaves my body and finds its way back into a heap on the floor.

“So where are you taking me?” I ask as I climb into his truck. James climbs in next to me with a slight shiver from the bitter cold wind outside.

“It’s a surprise.” He cranks the heat up as high as it will go and rubs his hands furiously against one another.

“You know if you wore some gloves you wouldn’t be as cold.”

He gives me a sideways glance before pulling out of his driveway. It makes me laugh and I utilize this time to take in his profile as he stares out at the road. He opted not to wear that sexy beany hat of his, which disappoints me slightly. He mumbled something about not wanting to mess up his hair, even though it looks as though he just woke up and rolled out of bed. Which, technically, he kind of did but sleeping was definitely not on the agenda.

We pass the city limits and drive in a comfortable silence. The passing streetlights dance shadows across our faces. I’m actually going on a date with him. An honest to goodness, no hiding, out in plain sight, date.

I reach my hand over to rest it on his knee. His hand covers mine and gives it a quick squeeze.

“Are you ready?” He parks the truck in the lot and kills the engine. I glance over at the building and smile. I’ve never been here before, which is good because it’ll be another first for us.

“For an actual date? Yes please.”

He kisses the back of my hand before releasing it. I move to open my door but he beats me to it. I didn’t even see him get out of the truck. Man, he moves quickly. We hold hands as we enter the building.

“Good evening and welcome to Caravaggio. Do you have a reservation for tonight?”

The hostess greets us with her overly sweet smiling face. She’s cute, young, probably in college or just graduated, and according to the name tag placed strategically on her perky breasts, is named Lacey. She’s dressed like the rest of the wait staff in a perfectly pressed white shirt and black trousers. The only exception being that the men wear straight black ties while the women wear scarves that peek through the open top button of their shirts. Nervously, I glance down at my own clothing; feeling a little underdressed as I look at everything around us. Somehow I doubt my simple wrap dress is going to make the grade for this establishment.

“We do, under the name Dumont.”

There’s a soft hum about the room as people speak in hushed tones with each other. An occasional laugh can be heard through the clanking of silverware against the plates. Servers flow steadily into the room, bringing baskets of bread and trays filled with the most delicious smelling food I have ever seen.

The restaurant itself screams class and most definitely high end. Dark, rich wooden floors span the entire eating area with stark white walls in contrast. Each table is adorned with white linen cloths and plush white chairs. I’ve never been anywhere with cushioned seats, let alone white ones. I’d be too afraid to spill on them. But judging by the clientele, it’s probably something that has never happened. Each table is outfitted with several large red candles that stand in the center, bringing a romantic glow to each setting. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting for our first date.

“Yes, Mr. Dumont. Right this way,” the bubbly hostess says. I don’t miss the once-over that she gives James as she picks up two menus from the stack on the side of her podium. The possessive side of me tightens my grip on him as her green eyes roam over his features until they land on our joined hands.
That’s right, bitch. He’s taken.

James laughs and places his hand on the small of my back as we follow her. He helps me out of my coat and holds my chair out for me, kissing my ear before I fully sit down.

“Jealous?” he whispers, brushing his lips against my neck before taking his seat across from me. I can’t help but notice how sexy he looks in his suit. Again, it’s nothing out of the ordinary since he always dresses nicely for school, but to see him get dressed up solely for me has my blood running just a touch faster than normal.

“Not in the least. I just don’t like people eyeing up what’s mine,” I say just loud enough for hostess girl to hear. And obviously she does because her ears heat up as she places our menus in front of us.

“The chef’s special tonight is a chicken pasta florentine, served with penne pasta and tossed in a white wine sauce. Your server tonight will be Michael, who will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal,” she says with a weak smile before quickly leaving.

I pick up my menu and attempt to look over everything, but the green-eyed monster is still lurking inside me and it’s making me edgy and unreasonable.

“Britta?”

Looking up at James’s concerned face, I drop my menu and let out a slow breath.

“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine.” I run my hands through my hair before letting them drop into my lap. “I don’t know what got into me back there. I mean, women gawk at you all the time and it’s never outwardly bothered me like this before. Don’t get me wrong, it always bothers me, but this is the first time I’ve really let it show.”

He laughs slightly and folds his hands in front of him on the table. “Sweetheart, you’re not really good at hiding your emotions. I always know when you get bit by the jealousy bug. It’s written all over your face. Your eyes narrow and the corners of your lips turn down into the most adorable scowl I have ever seen. Not to mention you tug on your earlobe subconsciously while chewing on your bottom lip.”

My eyes widen. There’s no way that I do all of that. “You’re lying.”

He makes an X shape over his heart and holds up three fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and then remember just a few moments before that I had, indeed, done all those things in the entryway of the restaurant. Damn him for knowing me too well.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” I say, taking a rather large drink from my water glass.

“Well, I am working on my Master’s degree. I don’t think they just hand those out at Wal-Mart.”

“Ha-ha. Aren’t you the comedian? Well then, Mr.-Smarty-Pants, tell me. How did you first know that I was attracted to you if I seem to wear my emotions on my face?”

James doesn’t get the chance to answer because our server decides to show up at that exact moment.

“Good evening. My name is Michael and I’ll be your server. How are you both doing tonight?” he asks, looking between the two of us.

Michael is tall, lean, and moderately built. Judging by his youthful appearance, he must be a student at one of the state colleges nearby. He flashes me a white toothy grin as his eyes drop slightly to the modest amount of cleavage showing from the V in my dress. Part of the reason I chose this one when packing my bag is because the wrap accentuates my breasts, making them look fuller than what they really are. My intention was to get James’s attention but apparently it’s also garnered Michael’s as well. I clear my throat and he quickly looks down to take a notepad out of the pocket of his white apron.

“We’re doing well, thank you,” James says curtly. I giggle to myself as I notice his nostrils flare ever so slightly at his disdain of Michael’s roaming eyes. Deciding to put him out of his misery, I reach across the table and link our hands together, giving him a reassuring squeeze. His eyes go from cool to warm in an instant when they connect with mine and a slow sexy smile crawls across his face. Now that is a smile that could probably give me an orgasm if I look at it long enough. I squirm in my chair a little and I can hear James’s quiet laugh across from me.

“Is there anything I can start you off with to drink? Perhaps a nice bottle of chardonnay?” Michael asks.

As much as I would love to have a glass of wine, I know that it won’t happen. I’m not about to bring any unnecessary attention to who we are or how old I am.

“No, thank you. Do you have any sparkling water?”

Michael nods with a smile. “We do. Would you like a lemon with it?”

“Lemon and lime, please. Thank you.”

“I’ll have the same,” James says, playing with my fingertips. I lick my dry lips with a smile and I’m unable to tear my gaze away from him.

“Excellent. Did you need a few more minutes to look over the menu or did you have any questions?”

I shake my head in response. “I’m ready to order. You?” I ask James.

“Definitely ready.”

Every muscle south of my navel constricts at the look that he gives me, filled with a hunger that I haven’t seen before. Holy shit. I guess I know what’s on the menu for dessert.

I clear my throat and point to my menu, picking the chicken ravioli with the balsamic glaze. James decides on the chef’s special and hands Michael both of our menus after he finishes scribbling down our orders on his notepad.

“I’ll go ahead and put those in right away for you and be back with your sparkling waters.”

Michael quickly turns on his heels, making sure to keep his head down to avoid my eyes. Not that I would have noticed him anyway.

“So are we even now?” I ask, wanting to know if we’re really going to act this way every time we’re around others. I know we both said that we’re jealous people, but this may be a bit ridiculous, considering where we’re at in our relationship.

“We’re even. No more petty jealousy. We’re beyond that, don’t you agree?” he says, kissing the back of my hand.

“Agreed. Besides, there’s no one I would rather be with than you and nothing or no one in this world could change my mind.”