Behind The Red Doors (Santori Stories #1)(40)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

“It’s sad, isn’t it? With people waiting until later in life to marry and have children these days, many kids have lost out on that special bond. Some of my students never even knew their grandparents.”

He hadn’t thought of it before, but he agreed with her. Joe suddenly found himself wondering if maybe his mother was a little justified in pushing her children for marriage and grandchildren. After all, Joe was thirty and still nowhere near settling down. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

They fell into a companionable silence for a full minute, each sipping their drinks. Then she said, “You must wonder why I started talking about my ponytail. You see, Georgie hit me in my most vulnerable spot—my Achilles’ hair, you might say.”

The light dawned. “He said he was photographing your hair?”

She nodded. “You got it. He is something of a whiz with computers.” Sipping again, she muttered into her cup, “Probably because cyber people can’t discover what a toad he is.”

One day, he’d like to meet her cousin Georgie. He’d like to say hello by introducing his fist to the amphibian’s jaw.

“Anyway, the family’s really happy he’s doing well for himself. When he came to me and told me he’d been hired by a store to develop an interactive computer program to model different looks, I thought he meant a hair salon. I thought it was Shear Delights, with an e-a, not an e-e. I pictured cutting shears, not barely there, take-me-big-guy, sheer clothing!”

Joe couldn’t stop a chuckle. She didn’t take offense, her full lips breaking into a grin herself at her own foolishness.

“So, uh, your weaselly cousin appealed to your vanity, let you think you were modeling for a hair salon…”

“And I was so flattered someone would think this long, boring mess was good enough for a salon, I said yes.”

Unable to help it anymore, he reached out and pushed a long wisp of shiny brown hair off the side of her face. “If this conversation continues, it goes on without the negative comments. You have beautiful hair.”

Her cheeks grew pink and she glanced away, obviously embarrassed. “Thank you. You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”

Not too nice. A nice guy would probably have found a way to admit he’d been ogling her on a computer screen for weeks.

But he sensed she wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet.

Neither was he. Sitting here, getting to know her, getting caught up in her smile and the flashes of saucy wit, he found himself regretting ever looking at her on the computer. He felt dirty, like a teenage kid caught sneaking peeks into the girls’ locker room.

She deserved a lot better. Not that he was going to tell her yet. He had the feeling something terrific was about to happen. He hoped so, anyway, and wasn’t going to ruin things right off the bat with a stupid admission that would only embarrass her and do nothing to make him feel better.

“Anyway, I let this photographer friend of his take scads of digital pictures. Just me—smiling, not smiling, pouting, whatever—with my hair down. Georgie said his wonderful new ‘smart’ program would start there and create all kinds of different looks for customers at the boutique.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Can you believe it? I even asked him to let me know when the place opened, so I could go and get some ideas for new hairstyles for myself!”

Georgie really was a louse. He had known all along what she thought. “With cousins like that, who needs—”

“Enemas,” she interjected sourly.

The bawdy humor struck him as intensely funny coming from her prim, sweet lips, and he laughed out loud. “So what will you do now? I assume Georgie had you sign over all rights, permission, etcetera, never pointing out the spelling of the word ‘sheer’?”

She nodded, lowering her head. He suspected she was trying to hide newly forming tears.

“Honey, we’ll deal with it. I’m sure the owners of the store are reasonable business people. If you meet with them, explain what happened…”

“I don’t want to see anyone in there yet,” she replied, her tone vehement. “I can’t set foot in there right now. It’s bad enough walking down the street, wondering how many men have seen me like…that.”

Joe swallowed—hard. Now was definitely not the time to come clean. “Okay, give it a day or two, then try approaching them. If you want, I’ll come with you.”

“Why would you do that?” She tilted her head, staring at him, as if trying to figure him out like a challenging puzzle. “Why would you go out of your way to help a woman you don’t even know?”

He met her stare, saw the confusion on her lovely face, and told her the God’s honest truth. “Because I knew you were somebody pretty special from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

MEG WAS SO CHARMED and captivated by her newfound hero, she nearly forgot about her date. That wasn’t surprising since she didn’t have them very often. The last time she’d been out with a man, aside from this afternoon with Joe—which really didn’t constitute a date since he’d merely been playing Good Samaritan—had been at least six months ago. So it wasn’t any wonder that as they sipped coffee, chatting and laughing the afternoon away, she forgot all about her plans. She’d promised to go out with Ted Fairlane, the single uncle of one of the boys at school. She finally remembered while making a wisecrack to Joe about the humiliation of seeing herself clad in a black leather teddy.

Teddy. Ted! “Oh, my gosh, I have to get out of here. I have an appointment I forgot all about. Thanks so much again for everything.” She jumped up to leave so fast Joe probably thought the coffee had given her stomach cramps.

“Wait,” he said, taking her hand. The contact sent warmth shooting up her arm. He slowly smiled, telling her without words that he felt the spark between them, too. She concentrated on not melting into a puddle on the tile floor.

What is it about this guy? Why did the slightest touch, the curve of his smile, the way his eyes scrunched up at the corners when he laughed, make her feel warm and comfortable, yet blazing hot, at the same time? She supposed it was that liking/lusting thing all over again. The liking had deepened through their long conversation. The lusting had been huge to begin with.

“It’s almost dinnertime,” he continued. “We have a good table. Let’s just stay and eat.”

She wished she could. Oh, how she wished it! For the first time in nearly forever, she’d spent hours with a man and felt completely comfortable, despite her extreme reaction to him. Her fierce physical attraction probably should have scared her. It oozed through her veins, making her achy and aware, making her want things she’d never wanted, and picture things she’d never done.

She’d watched the way he held his cup, noted the strength of his hands, and wondered what those roughened fingertips would feel like against the more sensitive parts of her body. As she’d watched his tongue slip out to lick away a spot of coffee on his lips, she’d been able to think of nothing but kissing him.

Serious attraction combined with serious liking. How rare was that? And it was even rarer to find a man who was incredible to look at, smart and funny. He had a great laugh, a quick wit, and the same kind of insight into growing up in an ethnic Chicago family as Meg. From the sound of it, Irish grandmothers and Italian grandmothers had a lot in common. Hers would probably have liked him very much.

Not to mention that she’d never once had to wonder if her father had set this up, if he’d turn out to be the nephew of her mother’s best friend, or if he’d been one of the neighborhood boys who’d paid for a peek at her training bra during one of Father Pat’s interminable sermons back in the sixth grade.

Joe Santori was just about perfect.

“Stay, Meg. Please?”

It was darned tempting. And if she had Ted’s work number with her, she would have gone for it. She didn’t have the number, though. So what it came down to was upbringing. Nice girls did not stand up nice men. It simply wasn’t…nice. She shook her head. “I can’t.” Lowering her lashes, she glanced away. “Another time?”

“No question about it.”

She nearly wrenched her shoulder rushing to get a pen out of her purse to write down her number for him.

She just prayed he’d call.

CHAPTER THREE

AS SHE GREETED Ted at the door of her apartment an hour later, Meg couldn’t help making comparisons. Ted was good-looking enough, but here in her doorway she found herself not liking his dirty-blond hair and hazel eyes as much as she had last week when he’d asked her out. Suddenly her preference was mahogany-brown hair and dark-chocolate eyes.

“Hello, Ted,” she said, grabbing her purse and coat off the chair beside the door.

He appeared startled that she made no effort to invite him in, but gentlemanly held out his arm. “Hi, Meg.” He cast a glance at her long skirt and heavy sweater. “You look…warm.”

“Cold evening,” she replied, forcing a note of cheer into her voice. She really wasn’t looking for ward to this date, not one bit. She’d rather have gone on sipping coffee and eventually having dinner with Joe. She wondered where he’d gone tonight, if he had a date, too. If there was a steady woman in his life. Get real. A guy who looks like that probably has ten steady women in his life.