Restoration 01 - Getting It Right (23 page)

“See you Monday, then. It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

Dr. Sands walked him down the long hallway to the front door. “I meant it before. Call anytime.”

“Thanks again.”

The text from James came through just as Nate climbed into the cab of his truck. He jammed his key into the ignition, then yanked his phone out of his back pocket.

I’m picking you up 5:30 p.m. Dress business casual.

Nate stared at the words, hoping to glean some hidden meaning from them. James hadn’t mentioned any previous plans.

What the hell is he up to?

The closer the clock inched past five, the less James was able to stay still. He didn’t want to admit that he was nervous, but yeah, his nerves were jumping. His stomach was a little sour, too, and a couple of Tums didn’t do much to settle him.

He’d faced final exams, research papers, his PhD paper, published articles and even a patient’s furious stepfather with a kitchen knife and a serious hate for all things psychiatry-related. No sweat. He plodded through holiday meals and visits with his mother. Piece of cake.

He picked up guys for sex and never gave another thought to them once he was finished.

Asshole-worthy, maybe, but barely a blip on the radar of bothersome things.

Nothing made him break out in a cold sweat and second-guess himself like going out on a date.

A
for real
date, with Nathan, as a couple. For the first time ever.

James stared at a small black stain on the carpet where he’d dropped a Sharpie and never managed to get the mark out. He hadn’t been on a date since high school prom, and even then it was with a girl who’d flat-out told him she wanted to use him to make her ex jealous. He hadn’t cared. At the after party, he ended up making out with a hot football player named Kevin, who he’d have never pegged as gay.

Nate’s going to think I’m a moron.

Nathan’s reply to his earlier text had been a simple
See you then
, with no communication since. James had resisted calling and asking how his appointment with Michaela had gone. He’d find out tonight, if Nathan chose to share. He was still a little surprised Nathan had agreed to the last-minute session.

He shouldn’t have been. Nathan had spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, restless every time James woke up. He’d resisted James holding him, resisted any sort of physical contact or communication, even over breakfast. Nathan got mad quietly, keeping it in instead of yelling it out. James could tell Nathan was still upset about the whole choking thing, but he was more upset about James and that damned whiskey.

James hadn’t tried to explain, and he wouldn’t try tonight. He had no answers, other than it helped chase the ghosts away. His ghosts and the ghosts his clients left behind on the really bad days. Yesterday had been a gut-kick of a day.

Anxiety kept him from sitting still. He bolted into the bathroom to double check his clothing choice. Black polo buttoned high—the bruises wouldn’t last more than another day—

that made his hazel eyes look gray. Tan slacks with a black leather belt. Nice but not fancy.

He didn’t want to scare Nathan with their date, just seduce him a little bit. Prove he was more than a sultry smile and the hash marks on his bedpost, and that he was worth putting up with.

Finally it was time to leave, and soon he’d parked in the short driveway behind the pickup.

Part one of his plan was still in its box on the floor of the backseat. James took the potted cattleya orchid from its barrier of balled-up newspaper.

Nathan opened the door before he could ring the bell, questions dancing in his eyes, a funny curl to his mouth. The beard was changing some of the familiar expressions, making them a little harder to read. The delight that blossomed on his face when he took in the orchid was impossible to miss.

“Bringing you a bunch of flowers felt weird,” James said, a bit unnerved at doing this on the stoop. “And I remember you talking about orchids this past spring, that your schedule didn’t let you bother with pets, but plants were okay.”

Nathan’s eyes danced with amusement. “You pay attention to the strangest things.”

“I pay attention to you, Nate. Always have.” He held out the ceramic pot. “It’s called a Siamese Doll.”

“It’s beautiful.” Nathan angled it in his hands, studying the yellow and purple blossoms.

“Come in.”

James stood near the door while Nathan crisscrossed his living room four times,

searching for the perfect spot for his orchid. The black jeans and blue button-down Nathan had chosen fit a bit loosely, but he still wore them like a champ. The man would be gorgeous in sackcloth.

He was especially gorgeous naked.

Focus.

Nathan finally settled on the TV console to the left of his flat-screen. Good sunlight and air flow.

“Thank you for this,” Nathan said. “It feels like a fresh start after last night. How’s your throat?”

“It’s fine.” He’d sucked on a few lozenges that morning but it was barely sore. “You’re not as strong as you think you are.”

Nathan arched an eyebrow. “That sounds like a challenge, old man.”

“Maybe it was, but for later.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes. The orchid was part one of my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“My plan.”

“Okay, so what’s part two?”

“Come over here and find out.”

With a cheeky grin that made James’s blood hum, Nathan invaded his personal space. He brought delicious body heat and a spicy cologne that begged James to make a snack out of his neck. Instead, he focused on Nathan’s mouth, kissing him as if it was the first and last time.

Putting the taste of Nathan on his tongue, the scent of him in his nostrils. Exploring every inch, hard and soft.

Nathan ended the kiss with a soft bite to his lower lip. “I like part two. Does part three involve nudity?”

“Not unless you want to arrest yourself for indecent exposure.” The confusion that wrought was too adorable, and James chuckled. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I am.” He draped his arms lightly around Nathan’s waist, liking him close. “We are going out on our first date.”

“We’ve been out a thousand times.”

“As friends, yes, definitely. And last Saturday at the Pot doesn’t count because it was a group thing.” Nathan’s confusion was morphing into surprise, so James pressed forward before his nerves shut him up. Or made him sound like an idiot. “You and I kind of did this relationship thing backward, and I don’t want to fuck this up. It’s too important.”

“I don’t want to fuck up, either, Jay.”

“Then let me do this. You know me. The guy whose dick has an honorary proctology degree because he gave his heart away a long time ago and never wanted more than a physical release with the guys he picked up.” He cupped Nathan’s cheek, grateful when Nathan leaned into the touch, eyes focused and bright. “I’ve given you a lot of firsts, Nate. This is one that you can do for me.”

“Your first date?” Nathan nearly laughed the statement. “Most men manage to have one of those before they hit their thirties.”

“I always was an outlier. Hell on the grading curve in high school.”

“Liar. You were second in your class.”

James feigned irritation. “See? If this was a real first date, you wouldn’t already know that. I could tell you anything I want, and you wouldn’t know the difference.”

Nathan played along. “So you’d start our first date off with a lie?”

“Maybe a few minor obfuscations, so I wouldn’t come across as the overachieving, self-indulgent slut that I am.”

Every shred of playfulness left Nathan, and the hand loosely cupped behind James’s neck tightened. “Hey, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t put yourself down. I know you, James Taggert. I know you’re smart, and I know you like control. I also know you love sex, and that you avoid relationships like the plague. Who have you been bragging and/or complaining to for the last fifteen years? I know it all and I am still here.”

“Sometimes I don’t know why.”

“Clearly it’s because I’m insane.”

James laughed. “Clearly. But I love you anyway.”

“Don’t you forget it.” Nathan brushed a ticklish kiss across his nose, first with his lips and then his whiskers. “Tell me more about these dinner plans of ours.”

“Forget it. It’s a surprise.”

“Do you have any idea how scary it is when you say that?”

“Of course I do.” James kissed his cheek. “Come on, babe. Let’s go on a date.”

Nate’s eyeballs nearly fell out of his head when James led him into the Green Room at the Hotel du Pont—one of the fanciest restaurants in Wilmington. He’d driven past the location in Midtown Brandywine more than once, but never had a reason to go inside, much less eat at the Green Room.

He felt insanely underdressed as he followed James and the hostess into the grand dining room. Vaulted ceilings, gold chandeliers, crimson drapes, oil paintings, dark wood paneling.

First reservations were just being seated, so only a handful of other diners dotted the room. No one gave them a second look or stared overtly at his mangled face, not even the waiter who arrived promptly and introduced himself as Mario.

James ordered a bottle of wine while Nate stared at the prix fixe menu. Three choices of appetizer, three choices of entrée and a signature chocolate napoleon for dessert. He ignored the price. This was a date, and James was trying to impress him. Not like he needed to. Nate had been putty in his hands after the orchid.

Hearing James talk about first dates had given Nate a perspective of James that he wasn’t used to. That of a grown man who, in some small ways, was still a bumbling teenager trying to get it right.

“I can’t believe you got a reservation on such short notice,” Nate said.

“I have my ways.” James’s cheeky grin made Nate’s heart flip. “And I hear the food is excellent.”

“Everyone knows the food here is excellent.” And pricy. Nate leaned forward on one elbow and pitched his voice low. “Seeing as how this is a first date, Dr. Taggert, do you really think wine and expensive food is a guarantee that I’ll put out tonight?”

James laughed. “I was rather hoping my charming personality and irresistible good looks would tempt you into putting out tonight.”

“You’re only charming to people who don’t know you very well.”

“Touché. But I’m still good-looking, right?”

“Irresistibly.”

The waiter returned to pour their wine and take their order. James seemed to be having fun directing their night, so Nate let him order their food by pointing. He didn’t know what a beurre blanc was anyway, and had only a vague idea that tarragon was an herb. He was a city cop who’d grown up eating southern comfort food. French cuisine made no sense to him.

Nate’s only clue as to his upcoming dinner was a cheerful, “Excellent choices” from Mario.

“I’m going to keep seeing Dr. Sands.” Talking about his new therapist might not be the most fun dinnertime topic, but it had to be said. “I like her.”

“I thought you would. She’s little but she’s tough. And observant.” James swirled the wine in his glass. “And your other appointment?”

“Cleared for work on Monday. Danvers already told me I’d be on desk duty for a while, so it shouldn’t interfere with seeing Dr. Sands.”

“That’s good.”

Neither of them spoke, and the silence stretched between them. First dates were getting-to-know-you time. How were you supposed to spend a first date with someone you knew inside and out? They were practically an old married couple.

“So far so good with your mom,” Nate said. “I’ve followed her every day this week after work. Nothing suspicious, no sign of Price or anyone else watching her.”

“Which means she’s imagining it.”

“Possibly. It’s only been a week.”

“You know what my mother is like. She wants my attention.”

“Maybe, but you asked me to look into this.”

“As I recall it, you volunteered.”

“Pedant. Whatever. I’ve worked enough stalker cases where the victim was told by family and friends that they were just being paranoid, right up until said victim landed in the hospital or the morgue.”

James frowned, tracing the rim of his wineglass with his finger. “Point taken.”

Mario arrived with their appetizers. Grilled corn and leek soup with some kind of oil drizzled on top.

“Truffle honey,” James said. At least he’d read the menu and paid attention.

The soup was divine—leaps and bounds better than the canned stuff Nate usually ate—

and it gave them both a good excuse not to dig around for small talk. Mario whisked away the empty bowl far too soon, and then his entrée landed on the table.

At first Nate wasn’t so sure about a Frenched chicken breast, but holy hell the lobster-whipped potatoes were heaven. Nate could have eaten a bowl of them, and he was certain every moment of pure bliss showed on his face. Even the beets were delicious.

With his own plate fairly empty, James leaned forward. “You keep eating like that and I’m going to have to walk out of here sporting a hard-on.”

The comment sent a flood of heat through Nate, and he grinned. “Like what?”

“Like you want to make love to your food.”

“I would if I could, believe me. This is amazing.”

“It’s worth it to see you enjoying yourself so much.”

“I am.” Nate didn’t even glance around before sliding his left hand across the table to squeeze James’s. “Thank you for this.”

James turned his hand so they were palm to palm. “You are very welcome.”

“So?” Nate leaned in closer. “What’s next?”

Part four of the date was a late movie. They spent more time making out in the back row than following the plot, but James didn’t care. The whole point was the amusing novelty of doing something together as an actual couple, outside the house.

Part five, however, required a return to Nathan’s apartment where James walked Nathan to his doorstep, and then planted the mother of all good-night kisses on him. The kiss turned into groping, and they finally went inside.

They shed clothing all the way upstairs and into the bedroom, until they were able to fall into the bed totally naked. Hands touching and groping. Lips sucking. Teeth grazing.