Raw Deal(26)

The rest of the ride was spent in silence while Rowan tried to stifle  quiet tears and Savannah felt helpless to do anything that might make  things better. Canceling on Mike and never seeing him or mentioning him  again was probably the only thing that would. But she waited until they  were back at the hotel and safe in Rowan's room before she said, "Tell  me what you want me to do."

Rowan looked up from setting her shopping bags on the bed, eyes pink-lined and watery. "Huh?"

"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll respect your wishes." At that moment, she absolutely meant it.

Rowan, her bottom lip quivering, looked down at her assortment of bags  and shrugged while Savannah held her breath. "Well," she said at last,  her gaze flickering up to meet Savannah's, "I guess it would be a shame  to let that dress go to waste."





Chapter Thirteen


When Savannah opened her door at eight o'clock sharp that evening, Mike  had a flashback to the old cartoons of his youth when the animated  characters saw a pretty girl: eyes bulging out of their heads, tongues  wagging, bells going off. She was drop-dead gorgeous, her tall, slim  figure encased in pink while her black hair spiraled over her shoulders  in glorious ringlets, and the only thought that would pulse through his  head for a good five seconds was Legs, legs, legs.

It took every ounce of restraint he had not to shove her back in the  room, push her down on the bed, and get those legs around him again.

"Hi," she said brightly, snapping him out of his fantasies for the  moment. He was sure there would be many more fantasies to come. But he  managed to force his lust-frozen features into a smile.

"You're beautiful," was all that would come out.

He could practically watch the pleasure bloom in her cheeks; he loved  that about her. "Thank you. Not so bad yourself," she said, and yeah, it  hadn't escaped him that she'd been checking him out too. He liked her  hungry gaze all over him; it felt fucking good. He'd opted for all black  himself: slacks, shirt, shoes. "Where are we going?" She stepped out  and let her door close behind her.

"Do you like seafood?"

"Oh, yeah."

"I figured, being a New Orleans gal and all." He winked at her and  offered his arm for her to take. She took it, seeming delighted, which  delighted him in turn. Anything to see that gorgeous smile. "There's  Spindletop at the Hyatt. I thought you might like it. It slowly revolves  and has a fantastic view of the city. Sound good?"

"Sounds incredible."

This time, they didn't bump into any of his fans; it was a smooth  getaway to his truck waiting outside. He held the door open for her,  helping her climb inside while trying not to stare too hard at the ample  smooth, silky leg she flashed on the journey. Gentleman, motherfucker,  be a gentleman. Damn, it was hard sometimes.

"Did you buy that dress today?" he asked after boosting himself in on the driver's side.

"Yes," she said a little shyly, smoothing her hands over the fabric covering her thighs. "I hoped you would like it."

"I love it. Did you have fun?"

"Mm-hmm," she said a little too brightly. "It got a little weird at the end. I told Rowan I was going out with you tonight."                       
       
           



       

Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Is she okay with it?"

"Well . . . she's okay. I wouldn't say she's happy about it. But it  feels good to not keep it from her." She rubbed her palms together for a  second. "I didn't say anything about going with you last night, of  course."

He gave her a grin. "Understandable." Wow. The last thing he'd expected  was for her to confess any of this to her family, but it spoke to her  character that she wouldn't keep things from them. Reaching over, he  found her fingers on the seat and linked his own through them. "I'm glad  you told her."

"Me too. It was a weight off."

"The last thing I would want is to cause problems between you and your  family," he told her, feeling the weight she had described settling on  his own shoulders at the thought. They had all been through so much; he  couldn't stomach the thought of driving a wedge between them when they  needed each other.

"I know that, Michael. And actually . . . I left it in her hands. I told  her to say the word and I wouldn't go tonight. It hurt, but I did it,  and I meant it. She didn't say the word, though. I was so glad."

Giving her fingers a squeeze, he navigated through traffic and thought  about how glad he was too. And what it must have cost her to make that  offer, if she really wanted to see where this thing might go.

He damn sure did.

"You're a wonderful person," he told her.

Even in the dim light from his dashboard, he could see the troubled line  between her delicate eyebrows as she looked at him. "I can't help  thinking," she said, "if I were really so wonderful, I wouldn't have  needed to ask her."

A stoplight caught them, and he was glad for it. Putting the truck in  park, he turned to face her fully, holding her hand with both of his.  "Savannah. What do you want? Not Rowan, not your family, not even me.  This weekend, this night, is for you. So you tell me what you want, and  I'll do it, whatever it is, whatever it takes."

She wet her lips, her eyes searching his face, a sparkle there that he  hoped wasn't the beginning of tears. Even if it was, he deserved them,  and he would face them, and wipe them away and do his damnedest to  prevent their reappearance.

"I want to be with you," she said, voice small and trembling.

"Then be with me."

"Okay." She smiled and a horn blast sounded behind them, but he didn't  give a fuck; he leaned in to brush his lips reassuringly across hers  before straightening and continuing on.

Yeah, so much for not caring if he drove a wedge into their family.  Sending her home tomorrow and never bothering her again would be the  best for all involved-she could work on repairing whatever damage they'd  done, and he could figure out what the hell his next move was in life.  Yet when she was sitting beside him, so soft and lovely and perfect, her  fingers through his, he couldn't imagine doing that. What the fuck did  you do when the "right thing" felt so completely wrong?



The view of the city through the glass walls of the revolving restaurant  was breathtaking, the skyline silhouetted against the orange stain of  twilight as it faded to deep blue and finally to black, the lights  twinkling like stars. Savannah's mouth fell open when Mike requested a  bottle of Cristal, but she promptly closed it again so as not to seem  utterly uncool. She'd never been on such an expensive date before.

"You don't have to do that," she whispered at him after the server left them.

"It's a special occasion," he said, holding her stare and reaching  across the table to put his hand over hers. She liked the way hers  nearly disappeared under his gently protective grasp.

"What?"

"Our first date."

"Oh," she laughed, thinking about last night, and how they'd seemed to  put the cart before the horse on that one. And he looked so damn fine  right now, cheekbones shadowed from a skipped shave, eyes a dark denim  blue in this golden ambient lighting. His black shirt was perfectly  fitted and loose at the collar, practically inviting her hands to snake  around behind his neck. She could see only the barest edge of the ink at  his throat, and a couple of lines peeking from underneath the shirt  cuffs at his wrists. Right now, no one would ever look at him and  imagine his chosen profession was beating the hell out of other people,  grappling and striking his opponents into submission.

"What are you thinking about? You're off somewhere," he said, the sound  of his voice curling warmly in her chest. She smiled and wished she had  that sip of champagne now.                       
       
           



       

"How things work out."

"Crazy, isn't it?" He leaned back as the bottle arrived, watching as the  waiter poured. She liked watching him. What drew his eye, what held his  attention. What was he thinking? He looked off through the windows, and  she took that much needed sip of her champagne, closing her eyes as it  warmed through her, as golden as the bottle in which it came. Perfect.

"That is a gorgeous view," she said, following his gaze out the window. "What's the blue Ferris wheel?"

"The Diving Bell Ferris Wheel at the Aquarium."

"I haven't been on one of those since I was a kid."

His eyes shifted back to her, a smile crinkling the corners. "It's a  nice view, yeah. But I prefer this one." Happiness welled in her chest.  "Look, though, I wanted to show you: See over there? That's where I  live. Three down from the top on the corner; you can even see my light  on." Savannah leaned forward to follow his pointing arm and found the  building she thought he was indicating.