Spinster? (15 page)

Date...with Wesley...like, really...like...oh god, her stomach...shifting and swirling. Then the drop.

Why was she so nervous? It was really ridiculous when she thought about it. Why was who he was such a factor in the here and now? But, he was Wesley Caraway! She used to doodle his name in the inside of her spiral notebook. The sparkly one with the kitten wearing sunglasses.

She had to stop thinking of him as the him he used to be. It wasn't fair to Wesley and it was making her a nervous wreck. So, Tess took a deep breath. She'd talked to him numerous times while writing the interview. He was down to Earth and kind.
 

This was not a laminated list moment.

This was not a laminated list moment.

This was not a laminated list moment.

Tess repeated the mantra to herself a few more times, as her shoes clicked on the planks of hard wood. Her hand rested on the brushed nickel handle of her front door. One more lung filling breath through the nose, bright smile...and...

 
"Hi! Right on time." Oh god, he was gorgeous.

His lips curled in a smile, and the look in his eye said he felt his view was just as appealing. She felt warmth on the back of her knees. It always started there, she had no idea why. She was still standing in the open doorway when he brushed his lips against the apple of her cheek and whispered, "You look amazing."
 

His breath was warm against her skin. The faint scent of peppermint reminded her of swirls on a candy cane. Then her thoughts went to licking and sucking...She cleared her throat. "Thank you."
 

He pulled back long enough to let her lock the door, then he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"We shall," she answered with a laugh in her voice. "Where are we shall-ing to?"

"I thought we could decide in the car." The lights of a black Range Rover flashed, accompanying a small beep of the locks.
 

"Nice," she remarked as he came to her side.
 

"Thank you. I've had it forever, but can't part with the old thing." He opened her door and helped her into her seat. She thought his fingers lingered under the crook of her elbow just a second longer than he needed to. It was funny, when she really liked someone the slightest touch felt as intimate as sex. She would rather have sex than an elbow fondling any day of the week, but she had to put sex out of her head or she'd never make it through dinner.

Pap smear, childbirth, a root canal, dry shaving your bikini line, taxes, Donald Trump's comb over.

It worked. Sex was now the furthest thing from her mind. She just had to stare forward...but even his voice. Maybe he wouldn't talk until they got to the restaurant.

"So, what do you like to eat?" He had to speak.
 

I like to be eaten out.

I mean eat me out.
 

Damn it!
 

"I love to go-out-to eat." There she said it. "I'm not picky."

"A woman who isn't picky. I'm not sure if I believe that. A unicorn sighting might be more likely," he teased, pulling out of the parking spot.
 

"I'm not picky about food. Believe it, my friend. Oh look, a unicorn!"

He laughed. "So, no salad with dressing on the side for you?"
 

"Hell, no. Well, let me say, I like salad, but not like you meant it. Remember our lunch?"
 

 
"Oh, I forgot. What women eat on a first date if they like you or they just want a free meal, right?" He laughed at the memory.

Wait. Was he doing the "laugh at everything they say" thing? That was a girl's move, which she'd totally planned on doing. Unless, he really found her funny. She'd go with choice B.

The blinker clicked as they waited at the stop light. "How about Mexican?"

"I'm a Texas girl. The answer to Mexican is always yes." He chuckled again, which made her brow crunch. She made herself stop. There was no way she was going to spend the whole night worrying about whether he was faux-laughing at her quips. Insecurity, no matter how covert, was never a good thing. She believed herself to be quite clever, so it stood to reason that Wesley, who was equally intelligent and witty, would think the same.
 

"Great. How about Guillermo's?" he offered.

"One of my favorites."

"Mine, too." See, a match made in heaven.
 

It was Saturday night, so of course, the place was packed. One would think with so many restaurants around, there wouldn't be such long waits, but people loved going out to eat. Wesley put their name on the list and they decided to sit at the bar and grab a drink. Imported beer for Wesley. A top shelf margarita on the rocks for Tess. When a tall bar table opened up, they grabbed it.

"Why don't we just eat here?" Tess asked.

"You would't mind?" He sounded surprised.

"Of course not. Besides, in the hour it takes for our table to become available I'll be so full of tortilla chips and salsa, I won't have room for real food."

"That's sound logic." He smiled, the chair scraping against the ground as he pushed her close to the table.
 
After a few sips of tequila, her nerves fell away. Now, she could admire the view. Some of the highlights included: full lips—the bottom almost twice as full as the top. Short, yet somewhat unruly, sable waves. Yes, sable. Straight white teeth. Not glaring bleached white, but just right. Butter teeth would get a person stricken from her list almost immediately. She didn't have the time or the energy to teach a grown man about dental hygiene.
 

Anyway, back to the handsome. Where was she? Oh yes, the eyes. Round blue eyes, under dark lashes and groomed brows. Not those metro-sexual waxed brows, lightly man-scaped. His nose was straight. Dimples? Not sure yet...wait, yes. One dimple by the left side of his mouth detected. She could tell from the fitted shirts he wore that he was in good shape. The sleeves of the white one he wore tonight were rolled, revealing shapely forearms with a light dusting of dark hair. Which was a good sign—if a man had Sasquatch working on the arms then there was a good chance it translated to the rest of the body. Yuck. If she wanted to wrap herself around a furry body, she'd get a dog. No. She imagined his skin smooth, soft, and fur free. Ass...oh that ass...was bitable. She certainly appreciated his consideration when he selected the dark jeans he was now wearing, which perfectly showcased his firm round backside. She would be able to report on ab status and penis deets upon further investigation.
 

It was amazing how she was able to accomplish her leering list while pretending to read her menu. She always got the same thing, so when he asked, "Do you know what you want."

 
"Definitely." She realized how that 'definitely' sounded, so she quickly added, "Definitely, the fajitas."

"I was thinking about getting those as well. How about we get an order for two and share?"

She took a quick sip of her drink and said, "Sounds great. You pick the protein." He picked a combination of shrimp and steak. She loved both.

"I don't meet a lot of women who eat meat these days."

"Really? Maybe you should stop trying to pick up women in Whole Foods."

"I know. The last girl I dated was a vegan."

Tess's face soured. "Oh no, not a vegan. I tried to eat vegan as a New Year's resolution. By dinner I was eating a turkey sandwich with bacon mayo. Life's too short. I almost choked on a piece of tofu once...true story."

He laughed. "Do you like to work out?"

"I wouldn't say like. It's a necessary evil I indulge in minimally...why do you look so surprised?"

"It's just...never mind."

"What? No. Now you have to tell me."
 

"I was thinking, you look like you take good care of your body. I mean that in a non-pick up line way...see, that's why I didn't want to say it." He was cute when he got embarrassed. His ears turned pink.

Tess put her hand on top of his. "Stop. I take it as a compliment. It's not like I can eat whatever I want all of the time. I'll eat really healthy for a week, then I'll spend the next several days in a fog of potato chips and shame."

"There's no shame from where I'm sitting."
 

"Hold that thought until you see me naked." She meant it as a joke, but that's not how it came out. The lift of his eyebrow clued her in on that tidbit. "Joking...I'm not saying you're going to see me naked, or that you even want to see me nak—"

It was his turn to out his hand on hers. "Stop. I know what you meant...and I just want to state for the record, the answer is yes to the second and I hope so for the first."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 
Once dinner was finished, they both seemed reluctant to end the night. Wesley suggested a stroll around the small garden in the center square and the shops that surrounded it. Tess agreed without deliberation. It sounded most pleasant—the weather was mild, with only a light occasional breeze. The aromas from the different restaurants mingled in the air around them, and even though she was far from hungry, the smell was enjoyable. Tess could just make out the quiet traffic in the distance, and found it appealing to be in the middle of the city, yet the frenetic pulse of humanity was muffled where they walked.

 
She wished he'd grab her hand, and after the minutes ticked by, the desire became more intense. The soft brush of his sleeve on her arm was becoming her sole focus. Silk, then sand paper. The distance between them, a breadth one moment, a chasm the next. She had to force her eyes to trace the words his mouth formed. Hone in on his speech and the soft timbre of his voice. Then, and only then, was she able to stop fixating on his hand and its lack on contact with hers. Then, and only then, was she able to join in on the conversation she now realized was hovering politely around their dating history.

"I just can't figure out why someone like you is still single?" he asked.

"Someone like me?" She pulled back, lifting her hand to her heart. She knew it was a compliment, but had to mess with him.

"Come on, you know what I mean."

"I haven't the foggiest. Pray, enlighten me."

His groan morphed into a laugh. "Woman...you're a handful."

"You have no idea," she teased. "Are you sure you don't mean, what's wrong with me? I must have commitment issues, or if I'm a frigid harpy? Closet lesbian? Picky?"
 

He laughed. "No, not at all. Besides, I know exactly what's wrong, if that's how you want to play it."

"You do?"

"Yes...but the problem is not with you."

"It's not?" She looked at him in disbelief as they passed a fancy fro-yo place.

Wesley shook his head. "Nope. The problem is the men you pick."

"Ah, so it is my problem, after all. I have bad taste in men."

He stopped, pulling on her wrist with gentle fingers. "You misunderstand me. Men may start with the best intentions, but
 
some can't handle a strong woman. They find it intimidating, even emasculating." They took a seat on a small stone bench by a large fountain made of blue mosaic tiles.

"Hm. I thought you were a lawyer, not a psychiatrist," she mused.
 

"Just a pragmatist."

"Also beneficial when practicing law...but what about you?" Her voice had taken on a breathy quality. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Are you one of those guys?"

Wesley cocked his head to the side and grinned. "I have no interest in a subservient woman. I like strength of character and a back bone. I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Good for you. I hate all of that alpha male BS. I like a strong man, but I don't want him to boss me around."
 

"Ever?"

"Well, some places," she teased. Her cheeks rose a few degrees. The ones on her face, too.
 

"What about you? Have you dated a lot since...well, I'm embarrassed to say I don't have a clue if you were married or what." Wesley didn't answer right away. Had it been a sore subject? Exes sometimes were. "Sorry, am I being too nosy?"

"No, not at all. I'll tell you all about it, but another time, okay? We're having such a nice time." He said this while looking out over the fountain as it bubbled and ebbed. Red flag? She wasn't sure, but if the tingling at the base of her spine was any indiction, things may be afoot. But how bad could it be? Everyone had a past, lord knows she did. She'd take some of the stuff she'd done to the grave of 'drank too much and did something stupid.' Everyone had baggage, and it could either weigh you down—wheels broken, handle not retracting. Or baggage could be a monogrammed set filled with the things that made you, you. It was all about perspective. And Tess could deal with her own, no problem. It was in other people she had to go case by case.

"Sure, another time." Tess rubbed his shoulder and smiled an honest smile as he looked her way once more.

"Thanks for understanding."

"Wesley, you don't owe me any explanations." Yet. "I've had a nice time, too."

"Can we do it again soon?"
 

"Dinner, or the awkward prying into each other's pasts?" He laughed. Easing the tension with humor was one of her specialties. "Yes, I would love to do this again."

It seemed right that the only action she got was a soft kiss on the cheek. It seemed right until she was sitting on the sofa, in the dark, second guessing everything she'd said or done to make him not want to take her on the entry way table. He'd said he wanted to see her again, so she must have done something right. Unless he was letting her down easy...not like the guy she'd met on a trip to Napa a few years ago. After spending the weekend shagging him between wine tastings with her girls, she'd given him a made up last name and a just as false phone number, to go with the equally fake orgasm. She'd thought maybe he needed a second chance to warm up. But no, his grunty thrustings were just as underwhelming the second time. So, why did she let him go down on her in the alcove of a cellar later that night? Wine made her do slutty things, especially if consumed in indiscriminate quantities. It's why she now drank vodka, it was the safest bet. Well, if you don't count a certain humid afternoon in Miami. But in her defense, the scantily clad cabana boy at Fontainebleau had a body that would make a nun come in her habit.