Wanted Distraction(4)

“Please follow me.” She guided me through the restaurant to the back terrace. Gesturing at a table tucked away in the corner and partially secluded by bushy trees and vibrant, amethyst-colored bougainvillea, she asked, “Will this do?”

“Spectacularly,” I assured her. “Thank you so much.”

“A server will be right with you.” She left two menus before wandering off.

I set my small handbag and my iPad case on the table. When the waiter appeared, I ordered ice water, hoping to keep a cool head with Carter, and knowing my internal temperature was going to kick up several notches at the sight of my high school heartthrob, who I knew looked even more amazing now than he had in high school—and that was saying something.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, I caught a glimpse of him following the hostess across the patio. She continually stole glances at him over her shoulder, not that I blamed her. My heart leapt into my throat and heat flooded my veins. As he approached the table, I stood on trembling legs. I wore four-inch, red peek-a-boos that complemented my one-shouldered dress, and perhaps that was a mistake because one look at Carter had me quaking in my Jimmy Choos.

Too many expressions flashed in his dark-chocolate-colored eyes to process at once. Though I was certain I saw a burst of interest, particularly as one corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin.

He stepped around the woman escorting him my way and politely said to her, “I’ll take it from here, thanks.”

She appeared to be disappointed she wouldn’t have the opportunity to engage him in conversation, because she hesitated a moment, then gave up and turned on her stilettos and retreated to her podium.

I could understand why she wasn’t pleased to be dismissed so quickly, so easily.

Carter was ridiculously good-looking. He was tall and athletic, yet he had a sophisticated and professional air about him. He wore a tailored business suit in black and had neatly trimmed dark brown hair. His dress shirt was crisp and white, complemented by a silk tie featuring an abstract pattern in jewel-toned colors. I had to amend my initial opinion of him. He was sophisticated and professional with the hint of a playful side, given the bold and spunky tie.

As I unabashedly eyed him from head to toe—shameless of me, I know—he took a step toward me, almost closing the gap. He was mere inches from me.

In his deep, intimate tone, he simply said, “Cherish.” The other corner of his mouth turned upward in a full smile that made my toes curl. His pearly whites gleamed under the moonlight and the soft glow of the candles nestled in oversized hurricanes scattered about the patio. “Cherish Westerly, right?”

My heart, still lodged in my throat, seemed to block my airflow so I was instantly lightheaded. I stared at him, finding it almost impossible to believe I was finally seeing him again, even though I’d been the one to orchestrate this reunion  . My stomach fluttered and I was quite confident my lingering crush on him had been warranted.

While he studied me with amusement in his warm eyes, I said, “That’s right.” I was shocked he’d recognized me. I honestly looked nothing like I had in high school, and was a good five inches taller with my peek-a-boos.

I offered my hand as I told him, “It’s nice to see you, Carter.”

He surprised me once more by pulling me into a loose embrace. “I think we’re beyond a handshake, Cherish.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I honestly could have spent the rest of my days in his strong arms, but he released me, much to my extreme disappointment.

“How’d you know it was me?” I asked.

He made his own visual assessment, his gaze sweeping over me in no particular hurry. Shaking his head, he told me, “I’ll admit, the overall package isn’t the least bit familiar, but I’d recognize those grass-green eyes of yours anywhere.” He seemed to consider something else, though I had no idea what he thought of the “new and improved” me. Unexpectedly, a flirtatious look crossed his chiseled features as he added, “And your mouth. I’ve kissed those lips before, remember?”

I had to reach for the edge of the table with one hand to steady myself. He remembered? Carter Davis must have kissed dozens of women over the years, yet he recalled he’d planted one on me that still rocked my world when I thought of it ten years later?

I remained silent, processing a dozen different emotions that slammed into me at once.

His grin faded. “Guess it wasn’t as memorable as I’d thought.”

I had to laugh at that one. As if! “You kissed me at prom. You’d gone stag with a bunch of other football players.” I could mentally conjure the entire evening. “Boy, did that liplock give people something to talk about.” And me something to fantasize about.