I grasp the flowers in my hand, conflicted if I should have brought them or not. Deidra always sends them, picking out lush and lavish arrangements for the latest woman in my life. But this time, I chose my own bouquet. It was an impulsive buy when I saw the vendor on the corner. The sunflowers made me think of Heather the moment I saw them. Bold and simple, eye-catching and strong.
Her instructions to dress casual left me scrambling. Jeans are for working on the old apartment building and going to bars, or hanging out with the guys, not for impressing a woman. The slacks I picked don’t belong in a suit pairing, but their custom fit and soft material look good with the navy polo I’m wearing.
Damn, what’s taking her so long to answer? I check the number on the doorplate, wondering if I’m at the wrong unit. My breath releases in a whoosh. I’m at the right place. Maybe she’s in the bathroom or has music on and didn’t hear it. I reach to press the bell again as the door swings open, the sound of James Taylor floating out.
Heather greets me with a slow smile. The black silk of her lounging pants drape elegantly to the floor, covering the delicious legs I’ve fantasized about since Thursday. The red and white mandarin-collared blouse she’s wearing is only halfway closed, a hint of black material peeking through the opening. My fingers itch to undo the knotted buttons to reveal more skin.
“Hi, Tony.” She gestures with a hand while I stare stupidly at her in silence. “Please, come in.”
“These are for you.” I enter, thrusting the flowers toward her. What the hell is wrong with me that I lose all sense of intelligence when I’m near this woman?
A look of wonder crosses her face to be quickly replaced by an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’ll put them in water.”
She closes the door behind me and sashays across the open space, then around the granite peninsula dividing her kitchen from the living area. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”
I nod and take the time to glance around her apartment. Warm bamboo flooring runs throughout the whole space. The small entryway spills into a step down living room. The dying light of the evening pours through tall windows, casting a soft glow on the couch and loveseat arranged around a shag rug. A deep cream color coats the walls, and over a half dozen framed photographs shine under display lights. They’re black and white pictures from all over the city and other places I don’t recognize.
Off to the left is a large dining area that holds a small table for six and an ultra organized desk in a library-like wall unit. I step farther into her apartment, hearing cabinet doors open and close in the kitchen. I catch a glimpse of her cherry red and white blouse as she bustles toward the sink with the flowers.
The dining table isn’t set for a meal and I turn to the couch area, wondering if we’re going to eat there. A low coffee table, festooned with three long platters of food, has been pushed off the rug. Large pillows in soft earth tones lay scattered across the couch and rug, like a big comfy pit of relaxation.
Tension eases out of me as I realize she’s set up a casual dinner for us to relax and get to know each other. A big part of me worried our first encounter would set the stage and all we’d be about was sex. I’ve had relationships like that before, but in the end you’re left with nothing to talk about—highly satisfied, yes, but emotionally empty in a few weeks and bored. This one looks interesting enough to last longer.
Heather strolls back into the room, her eyes bright and glassy, belying the casual grace with which she moves. Could she be as nervous as I am? She sets the colorful bouquet on the low table amid the dishes and then faces me.
“I thought a meal here would be more comfortable…and intimate.” Her voice drops on the last part of the sentence causing my cock to stir.
Down, fella. No need to sport a woody two minutes in the door and embarrass myself. I run a hand through my hair. “That sounds nice.”
She turns away, looking like she’s hiding a bit of amusement at my expense. I glance down, reassuring my prick is not noticeably changed or that my pants look funny. Nope. Everything looks good.
The slender woman lowers herself to the rug in an elegant move, one I have no hope of duplicating. Leaning back on a large pillow, she tucks both feet, in their black heels, to the side. “May I pour you some wine?”
My gaze glues to those sexy shoes. I’ve never cared much for women’s footwear before, but on her they seem to draw my eye over and over again. I think they may be the ones she was wearing when I met her.
“Tony?”
I glance up and catch the smirk on her face before she smothers it. “Uh, yes?”