Dominick looked up and frowned—but at her or the dog, she couldn’t tell. When she walked up, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “Good morning, Vee.”
“Good morning,” she said, giving him her practiced smile.
He nodded to Winslow and winced with every bark. “Does he have to be so loud?”
She looped the leash around the leg of her chair, then crouched to quiet the little dog. “He’s just happy to see you,” she said lightly.
“So that’s his friendly growl?” Dominick asked dryly, setting aside his sunglasses.
It was impossible to look at him and not be reminded of where his lips and hands had touched her last night. Her nipples hardened in vivid recollection. “Did you have a nice dinner?”
The waitress appeared before he could respond. Violet ordered yogurt and orange juice. Dominick ordered a packet of powdered aspirin and a bottle of Gatorade. When the woman left, he leaned back in his chair and gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t remember the food, but I definitely drank too much. I’m sorry if I woke you when I came in.”
“You didn’t,” she lied.
“So you got some rest?”
“Yes.” She hoped he didn’t notice the dark circles under her eyes that powder couldn’t quite conceal.
“So, how do you feel the morning after?”
She jerked her head up.
A mischievous smile lifted his mouth. “After the bungee jump, I mean.”
“Oh. A little sore,” she confessed. Although the slight aches in her hip and thigh muscles were probably attributable to their carnal exercises.
“Ready for some more?”
Violet swallowed hard. “More what?”
“Classes at Sunpiper. I thought we’d try something else today…if you’re up to it.”
“Um…sure,” she said, remembering her vow to get back to business. It was the reason Dominick had brought her, after all. “As long as it’s not anything too…extreme.”
“Something tells me you have a pretty high threshold for excitement,” he said.
Perplexed by his comment, she tingled under his gaze.
The waitress brought their order, and Dominick held up the packet of aspirin. “I need a couple of hours to feel human again before we get our adrenaline going.”
“That’s fine,” Violet said, eager to postpone the outing for as long as possible. “I spotted a row of boutiques nearby. I’ll take care of finishing the shopping on your list before we leave and send the gifts to my office.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said. “Maybe I’ll pick up on some of your shopping tips and be able to do my own from now on.”
Violet nodded and stirred her yogurt. So he was already planning to curtail the services he purchased from her. A taut silence stretched between them until it vibrated, reminding her of the tension leading up to an orgasm. They shifted in their chairs, moved their feet. She took small bites and cast about for a neutral topic.
“The weather is nice,” they said in unison.
She smiled and he grinned back, easing the awkwardness. “But it’s hard to get into the Christmas spirit when it’s so warm and sunny,” Violet added.
“I think that’s why I like it down here,” he said. “I can forget about the holiday.”
Violet blinked. “You don’t like Christmas?”
He shrugged. “I don’t have anything against Christmas. It’s great for kids. I just don’t understand the fuss that adults make over it.”
Violet looked back to her yogurt, suddenly homesick.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” she said with a quick smile. “When I was a girl, I always dreamed of having one of those magical Christmases with my parents, with a big tree and snow and Christmas carols.”
“Your parents weren’t around for Christmas?”
She shook her head.
His forehead creased in thought. “Was this year supposed to be your magical Christmas?”
She fidgeted in her chair. “I’ve outgrown all that silliness.” It was time to let go of the fantasy she’d concocted in her head. It was never going to happen.
“When I was growing up, my mother made a big deal out of decorating the tree and making cookies and wrapping gifts.” His eyes grew warm. “I guess that’s why I usually find something to do over the holidays. Without family, it just isn’t the same.”
His words tugged on her heart. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to your folks?”
“Cancer took my mom. And my dad died of a heart attack less than a year later.” Dominick’s smile was sad. “I always figured he died of a broken heart.”
“Sounds like my grandparents,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” he said, then averted his gaze and polished off his Gatorade, as if eager to change the subject and get going.
Violet finished eating quickly, watching Dominick from under her lashes. It was understandable why he didn’t enjoy Christmas, but profoundly sad. Yet it explained why he was willing to pay someone else to do his gift-buying, and why he wasn’t returning to Atlanta until the day after Christmas. It also made her wonder if, despite his constant female entourage, Dominick was lonely.
But she discarded that idea as she swallowed the last of her juice. Dominick was sitting there with her, but his mind was elsewhere. He drummed idly on the table and glanced around, already bored being in one place…bored with her. The man’s personality and energy level were simply too big to be limited to one city, to one business, to one woman. A man like Dominick didn’t get lonely.
Violet quashed a pang of disappointment, chastising herself for entertaining, even for a second, the idea that she and Dominick could be anything but…this.
“Ready?” he asked, obviously anxious to get started. He tossed cash on the table to cover their meal.
She nodded and unhooked Winslow’s leash, pulling it short enough to keep the dog close to her feet as they walked toward the street where she’d found the boutiques. Dominick didn’t seem to be in the mood this morning to be bitten.
* * *
DOMINICK THOUGHT that walking next to Violet would be easier than sitting across from her—he still couldn’t touch her, but at least he could be closer to her. Except that anytime he got too close, that damned dog growled at him. So, from more than arm’s-length distance, Dominick tried to forget how much his head pounded and focused on drinking in the sight of Violet as she moved.
She walked with an economy of motion, taking up no more space than absolutely necessary, keeping her elbows in, her stride controlled. Yet there was no shyness in her posture—her head was up and her shoulders were back, providing a nice framework for the magnificent breasts he knew were in hiding beneath that black suit jacket. Remembering the hardened tips in his mouth, his cock began to swell.
“This looks promising,” Violet said, stopping on the sidewalk.
Dominick eyed the store dubiously. The windows were chock full of glass knickknacks and decorative bric-a-brac. “Is this the kind of place I’d have to visit if I did my own shopping?”
“As long as your gift list is ninety percent female,” she said pointedly.
“Touché,” he said with a grin. “Okay, show me how it’s done.”
She opened the door and asked the clerk if she could bring Winslow inside. The young woman smiled and nodded yes. Once they were in the shop, Violet looped the leash around her wrist, then pulled out her PDA and punched in few commands.
Dominick looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“You have four people left to buy for—Heather, Mia, Sandy and Bethany. I’m double-checking your cumulative gift list.”
His eyebrows went up. “You keep track of what I’ve given to each person this year?”
She nodded. “That way I don’t inadvertently send a duplicate.” When the list came up, she read from it. “Your gifts for Heather to-date have been chocolates for Valentine’s Day and an iPod in April.”
Dominick felt sheepish. “She’s…young.” A cheerleader at Georgia State, in fact. The woman could do a Chinese split, but she didn’t stir him like Violet did.
“Do you have something specific in mind?” she asked, breaking into his musing.
“No. What would you suggest?” He hadn’t seen Heather in months. This was more of a parting gift than anything else.
“The key to gift-giving is simply to think of something that the person would like, but would never buy for himself or herself. How about a purse compact?” She picked up a lovely sterling compact studded with crystals.
He frowned. “What exactly is a compact?”
She smiled and opened it. “It’s a mirror.”
“Perfect,” he said, relieved. This wasn’t so hard.
She set the item on the counter, then leaned over to peer at a round-faced fabric doll in a faded box. “How much is this doll?” she asked the clerk.
The woman shook her head. “Sorry. It belongs to the owner and isn’t for sale.”
Violet made a rueful noise.
“What is it?” Dominick asked.
“It’s a vintage Little People doll,” Violet said. “A man in Georgia created them—they were the precursor to the Cabbage Patch Kids dolls before they were mass produced.” She smiled. “When I was seven, they were all the rage.”