Behind The Red Doors (Santori Stories #1)(49)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dixie.”

The softly spoken words came as more of a shock than the flowers. Her jaw fell open as Alfred stepped out of the corner of the elevator. He held a single long-stemmed rose, which he extended to her with an expression so filled with tenderness, her heart clenched. “Alfred?” She touched the locket. “You?”

He answered with one of those small smiles.

“Why? You can’t… I mean, do you…?” She finally shut up and stared at him in astonishment.

“Mrs. Merriweather, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you rendered speechless.”

“Was that why you did it?” she asked warily. “Was this a joke, a prank to pay me back for teasing you?”

His eyes widened in dismay. “Oh, no. All of this, the notes, the locket…were only ever to make you smile. And to make you see yourself the way I see you.” He stepped closer. She suddenly wondered why she’d ever thought of him as a cool, reserved man. Because his eyes literally glowed with suppressed emotion.

“How you see me?” She heard the breathless sound in her voice and felt the pounding of her heart within her chest.

He placed the rose in her hand and tipped her chin up with the tip of his finger. “As a very lovely, very desirable woman.”

His unwavering gaze attested that he spoke the truth.

She tightened her fingers around the stem of the rose. There were no thorns, she realized. They’d been cut off. Feeling moisture in her eyes, Dixie blinked rapidly. In a moment no longer than a heartbeat, she felt her world go topsy-turvy as she acknowledged what a special man stood in front of her. He’d taken the time to painstakingly remove the thorns, not wanting her hurt.

She’d never expected to find such a man again.

“You’re sure?” she finally asked when she trusted herself not to cry like a girl going to her prom.

“Quite sure, Dixie. I’ve been waiting until you were ready to let yourself care again.”

Somehow, she knew what he meant. No, she hadn’t been looking for romance for a long time. In fact, her soul-shattering grief for Lou had convinced her she never wanted to love again. But lately, working here, seeing so many relationships in all their different phases, she’d changed. She’d seen and recognized the signs of heady and sensual first love. She’d understood the looks of both naughtiness and tenderness in the eyes of older married couples. And recently she’d realized she wanted that for herself again. How perceptive of him to have known.

“Dixie Merriweather,” he said, “will you do me the honor of joining me for a late Valentine’s Day dinner?”

She nodded and slowly smiled. “Yes, Alfred, I will.”

This time, his answering smile was broad and joyous.

“Can I ask you to do something for me first?” Swallowing to gather courage, she continued. “I would very much like a Valentine’s kiss, Alfred.”

He lowered his face to hers. Just before their mouths met for the first time, she heard him whisper, “As you wish.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

JOE HAD DECIDED before he picked Meg up tonight that it was time to be completely honest. Somehow, though they’d known each other less than a week, he knew tonight, on Valentine’s Day, was the perfect time for new beginnings and clean slates.

Besides…no way in hell could he gently kiss her and walk away again—not when those blue eyes begged him to stay. So he’d tell her the truth about where he’d first seen her, apologize, then, with any luck, they’d do what they’d both been dying to do since the night they’d met. Go absolutely wild together in bed.

When they arrived at the romantic restaurant, he helped her remove her snow-flecked coat. Seeing her fully for the first time this evening, he knew he’d made the right decision. The only decision. His jaw dropped. “Meg, you look incredible.”

“Thank you. It seemed appropriate for the holiday.”

He’d decided the other night that red was his new favorite color. Meg was wrapped in it, from shoulder to mid-thigh, clad in a glittery, tight little dress that clung to every seductive curve on her body. Even the coat-check guy stared.

He swallowed and said, “But, uh, it’s kinda chilly. Would you rather keep your coat on for a while?”

She chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

As they walked through the crowded restaurant behind the hostess, Joe noticed a lot of eyes following Meg’s every move. Waiters, the bartender, even men sitting with other women. Joe had never in his life been bitten by the green-eyed monster. But he was simply unable to stop himself from slipping a possessive arm around her waist as they approached their table.

After they sat and ordered drinks, Joe gestured toward her hair. “I thought you said it wouldn’t hold a curl.”

“A ton of gel,” she confided with a grin, touching a thick lock of hair hanging over her shoulder. “It’ll be flat as a pancake again by midnight.”

He hoped it would be earlier than that, because he intended to tell her the truth over dinner, and be back at his place making it up to her by ten.

“I’d hoped this place would be a little quieter,” he said, glancing around. “I should have known better because of the holiday. I really wanted to talk to you.” As he glanced at nearby tables, he again noticed the stares Meg was getting. “I don’t think I’m the only one who likes your new look,” he muttered, unable to hide a frown.

She followed his stare. A faint blush stained her cheeks. “I’m not used to much male attention.”

“You’ve always been a beautiful woman, Meg. That some men couldn’t see it in spite of your clothes makes them pure idiots. I see you for who you are no matter what you wear.”

Obviously noticing his discomfort with the attention she was getting, she asked, “Do you want me to go home and change into a skirt and sweater?” The humor in her eyes said she was teasing.

Only an ass would admit the truth…a tiny part of him would rather be the only man to see the incredible beauty of the woman he was falling in love with. Joe wasn’t that stupid. Besides, it was easy to see her excitement and happiness tonight.

Before he could reply, an efficient waitress brought a bottle of red wine to the table. As the woman uncorked it, Meg said, “Thank you again, Joe, for the flowers. They were lovely.”

“I hope they’ll look nice with the twenty construction paper hearts on your coffee table.”

Meg smiled and leaned across the table, reaching for his hand. But before she could slip her fingers into his, she accidentally jerked her arm and knocked the bottle of wine the waitress was pouring. As if in slow motion, the open bottle slipped to the table, landing on its side. Red wine literally gushed out, all over the pristine white tablecloth.

And all over Joe’s lap.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry.” Meg looked horrified.

The waitress reached for the bottle, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Joe was positively drenched.

AN HOUR LATER Meg found herself exactly where she wanted to be: inside Joe’s apartment. She stood in the living room, waiting while he changed clothes…just as she’d planned. If he found out she’d intentionally spilled wine all over him, he’d probably think her insane. She hoped when she gave him his red-silk-wrapped Valentine’s present, he’d be in a forgiving mood.

“Okay, Meg,” she murmured. It was time to give him his gift. Now, before she lost her nerve, before he could emerge from the bedroom and insist they go back out to finish dinner someplace.

“No dinner tonight, sweetheart. We’re heading straight for dessert,” she murmured.

She turned off the lights in the room, leaving only the kitchen one on for some gentle illumination. Then she unzipped her dress, slipped it off, and tossed it to the sofa.

“Strike a pose,” she mumbled, remembering what Dixie had suggested as she’d purchased tonight’s provocative outfit.

A pose. She could do that. She jutted one hip out like a contortionist, and put her fist on it. Tossing her head back, she thrust out her chest, trying to look seductive and sultry. Probably, though, she just looked ridiculous and constipated, because a sudden ache in her lower back made her grimace. The horribly uncomfortable high heels had tortured her all evening. Now with all the hip-and boob-thrusting, her back screamed in protest. She’d be more likely to wind up in the chiropractor’s office than in Joe’s bed.

She bit her lip, dropped her fist and straightened. Think sexy…not painful.

But before she could come up with anything better, Joe returned. She heard his harshly indrawn breath and turned her eyes to see him standing frozen just inside the arch between the living room and the hall. “Oh. My. God.”

Obviously a pose hadn’t been necessary, after all.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Joe,” she whispered.

He opened his mouth but didn’t say a word. Somehow she didn’t feel jittery or nervous under his hot, appreciative stare. Knowing Joe cared about her made her confident enough to want him to look. Judging by the way he had to grab the back of a chair, as if to steady himself, he liked what he saw.

JOE DEFINITELY LIKED what he saw. She wore a miniscule bit of red silk that masqueraded as a bra. It pushed up, rather than held in, and her amazing br**sts literally overflowed the material. Only some peekaboo lace covered her n**ples. Even from here, in the shadows, he could see them grow tight and pucker under his piercing gaze.