She’d thought her attraction to the man was the most powerful sensation she’d ever felt. Now she wondered if her emotional feelings toward him were even more powerful. She was falling in love with Joe Santori. More in love with him every time they spoke, every time they touched, every time he looked at her and smiled that smile.
“Thank you for dinner,” she murmured. Trying to remember to look hot and desirable instead of goofy and needy, she said, “Would you like to come back to my place? For a…cup of coffee?”
She saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. “Uh, I don’t think so, Meg. I have an early walk-through tomorrow, and I probably should get home to go over some figures.”
The only figure she wanted him going over was her own! But Dixie had told her the keys were subtlety and patience. A man needed to be reeled in slowly, aroused by steps, she’d said.
Meg lowered her lashes. “All right, Joe.” Then, rising up on tiptoes, she slipped her hands behind his neck. “Good night,” she whispered before touching her mouth to his.
Gently parting her lips, she cajoled him to kiss her back. He did, sweeping his tongue against hers in a slow, languorous mating. It wasn’t as frantic or frenzied as some of the kisses they’d shared. He took his time, tasting her with deliberation. For some reason, that made her want him all the more.
“Good night, Meg,” he said when their kiss ended.
Though it nearly killed her, she got into her car and drove away, watching him standing there in the parking lot in the snow. He watched her, too, not moving a muscle as she drove down the street and turned the corner.
Knowing she was in for another long, restless, night filled with erotic dreams, Meg sighed. If Dixie had been in the car with her, she might have had to deck the woman. Because patience and subtlety might just be the death of her.
MEG HAD RUN OUT of patience and given up on being subtle. She and Joe had gone out again last night, for the fourth night in a row. She’d worn some of her new clothes, including a sexy black bra and thong she’d purchased at Sheer Delights. Not that he’d seen them, of course. Because after spending the Thursday evening watching a bunch of grown men on skates brawl like kindergarteners during a Black Hawks game, Joe had taken her home, kissed her lightly at her door, and left. She’d hurried inside her apartment the moment he’d walked away, not wanting to see Mrs. Mahoney’s disappointed expression.
“A hockey game,” she muttered as she got out of the shower. “Gimme a break.”
It wasn’t that Meg didn’t like hockey—in fact, because she’d loved ice skating as a kid, she actually found the sport more interesting than others. But it wasn’t exactly a thrilling date for the night before the most romantic day of the year.
“Enough is enough,” she told herself. After drying her hair, she yanked on some clothes, and left her apartment. In spite of the rather thick snow that had begun to fall, she got into her car and headed toward Michigan Avenue.
Today was Valentine’s Day. For the first time in years Meg had romance in her life. And tonight, without a doubt, she was going to get what every woman should get on Valentine’s Day.
Some great sex with a man she’d gone absolutely crazy over.
NOTING THE ENDLESS STREAM of harried holiday shoppers had thinned, Dixie Merriweather glanced at her watch. It was five-thirty, and for the first time all day she had no customers waiting at the pickup counter at The Red Doors. She supposed it wasn’t surprising since it was nearly the dating hour on Valentine’s Day. With the holiday on a Friday this year, everyone had places to go… “And people to do,” she whispered saucily.
Everyone except Dixie. Which made it perfectly reasonable for her to be the downstairs manager on duty tonight. Faith was around somewhere, probably up in The Diamond Mine, but Dixie felt sure she’d have plans in spite of the snowstorm brewing. And Jamie had a date. She couldn’t have been happier about her young boss getting a little romance in her life than if she had some herself.
For a while there she’d thought she might. Her fingers moved to her throat, where the gold locket that she’d finally decided to put on rested. “Not that it did any good,” she muttered. She’d been shocked to receive it this morning from her admirer and had expected him to reveal himself sometime throughout the day. She’d told Faith that if it turned out to be the studly young UPS guy, she wouldn’t be back until next week. But if it was the cross-dressing former football player, who bought out their stock of extra-large women’s underwear whenever they got a shipment, she was locking herself in the ladies’ room.
She hoped nobody had seen through her attempt to make light of this secret admirer business. Because deep down, she’d been a lot more intrigued—and flattered—than she’d let on.
It hadn’t mattered, because he’d never shown up. Whoever the admirer was, he hadn’t come forward to take credit for the necklace. He’d had cold feet, a better offer, or just a change of heart. Dixie didn’t mind much. Whoever he was, he’d made her feel really good in the past few days. She hadn’t felt as expectant and excited about anything in ages…not since her Lou had died.
Now, however, it was over. Because if the man didn’t make his move today, on Valentine’s Day, he never would. So, as it had been for the past eight years—since she’d become a widow at the much-too-young age of forty-six—her Valentine date would be a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a rented Cary Grant movie.
Absently sliding the locket back and forth on the gold chain, Dixie looked up as the doors opened. Meg O’Rourke, the pretty woman she’d met Wednesday, strode in, bringing a blast of thick snowflakes with her. Meg’s expression was a combination of frustration, determination and a hint of terror.
Dixie smiled sympathetically. “No luck, sweetie?”
“Patient and subtle are out. I’m ready to try cheap and obvious.”
Dixie tsked. Sheer Delights was never cheap. Not in price, nor in quality. “I can’t believe the thong didn’t do the trick.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “It might have if he’d seen it. And let me give you some advice. Don’t ever wear a thong under a skirt to a professional hockey game. My cheeks are still numb.”
Dixie couldn’t prevent a laugh at the younger woman’s disgruntled tone. “All right, what’s your plan?”
Glancing around to be sure no one could possibly overhear, Meg filled her in. When she’d finished, Dixie grinned and took the younger woman by the hand. “Perfect. Now, let’s go upstairs to sample some Sheer Delights.”
They spent the next hour shopping, and after Meg had finally picked out the perfect item, Dixie rang it up, wrapped it, wished her luck, and watched her leave. She smiled, having a pretty good idea of how Meg’s Valentine’s Day was going to end.
For the next two hours Dixie took care of the remaining customers trickling in, until it was nine o’clock. “Closing time. Cary, warm up the sofa for me, darlin’,” she mused out loud.
Alone in the vestibule, she locked up, then glanced through the inner doors. The lounge was empty. The staff had apparently left promptly through the back, probably having plans themselves or wanting to beat the snow home.
Her gaze instinctively moved toward the counter, where Alfred Willis usually stood. He was always easy to spot, being so tall. But tonight he wasn’t there. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t seen him in a few hours.
He couldn’t have a date. Alfred was a widower, and as far as she knew, didn’t have a lady friend. Considering how perfectly reserved and formal he usually was, she couldn’t imagine him asking out a stranger.
“Maybe he met someone,” she whispered. Dixie could not begin to explain why that thought bothered her. She wasn’t interested in the man. Heavens, they had nothing in common. Yes, she could admit, if only to herself, she occasionally enjoyed jabbing at that formal exterior of his. She liked seeing his fine, hazel eyes widen when she said or did something outrageous. She especially liked the way that incredibly attractive mouth of his, which had definitely made her stop and stare a few times, curved slightly into a mysterious little smile.
He never responded in kind to her teasing. No, most often he simply stared at her and murmured the same phrase—As you wish—while sounding as though he meant something else entirely.
“He probably means, ‘Get lost, lady,”’ she muttered.
He undoubtedly viewed her as a brassy, bossy, infuriating female. Not many people knew the sometimes outrageous, sexy exterior hid a rather lonely and vulnerable woman—which was just the way Dixie wanted it. She’d thought it best to be alone, rather than endure more than one crippling loss in her lifetime. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure….
Needing to go back upstairs to check the locks, Dixie pushed the button for the elevator and watched the paneled door slide open. She blinked, twice, trying to make sense of what she saw on the floor inside. “Roses?” Stepping closer, she caught the sweet fragrance of the dozen bloodred blooms that stood in a vase overflowing with babies breath and greenery. She couldn’t fathom how anyone could accidentally leave the lovely flowers behind.