When It's Right(85)

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m going to have to wear a dress more often if this is how you react.”

“It’s not the dress.” He led her into the restaurant, her hand tucked through his and resting on his forearm.

“Blake, welcome,” the hostess greeted them. “We have your table and order ready. Right this way.”

Blake took her hand and escorted her through the crowded restaurant to a private table in the corner. ­People stared. A few called out hellos to Blake. He gave them a nod and a smile, but his focus remained on her beside him. He pulled out her chair and waited for her to take her seat. He kissed her shoulder and took the seat beside her, smiling.

“Amy will be your server. She’ll have your drinks in just a moment.” The hostess left them alone.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I love it. It’s cozy.” She liked the white linen tablecloth, fresh flowers in the pretty blue vase, and taper candles, their flames dancing in the center of the table. Dim lights cast the room in shadows, lending a more private and intimate dinner setting. “She didn’t give us menus.”

“We don’t need them. I ordered ahead.”

“My surprise,” she guessed.

That cocky smile might be the death of her. When he smiled like that, she wanted to sit in his lap and kiss him forever.

“You’ll see. I planned the whole evening.”

“To sweep me off my feet?”

“We both know all I have to do is kiss that spot on the side of your neck, and you’re mine.”

“Actually, all you have to do is look at me that way.”

“Which way?” He swept his heated gaze over her face and down to her breasts. They went heavy, and her nipples tightened. She caught herself before she licked her lips, anticipating his touch.

“That way,” she said, notching her voice down into a deep, seductive octave.

Blake swallowed, leaned forward, and clasped his hand to her thigh under the table. “Stop, or we’ll never make it through this dinner.”

She giggled and batted her eyelashes. “What? I didn’t do anything,” she said, all innocence in her voice.

His fingers squeezed her leg and swept up toward her hip. She sucked in a breath and let it out on a sigh when his thumb caressed the inside of her thigh inches from where she really wanted to be touched.

“Okay stop,” she pleaded, though the words held little conviction. She laid her arm on the table, palm up. He pulled his hand from her thigh and gently ran his fingertips down her arm to her palm and settled his warm hand on hers.

“For now.” The husky tone in his voice promised so much more. Later.

She loved the anticipation building in her stomach, like a colony of bats swirling at the entrance of a cave before they took flight into the night.

To distract herself, she reached for her purse to take out her phone. “Oh no. I left my purse in the car. I promised Justin he could call my new cell to say goodnight.”

Blake pulled his keys from his pocket and rose. “I’ll go get it.”

She stood and grabbed his hand. “No. I’ll get it. Sit. Relax. You’ve planned such a wonderful evening. I’ll be right back.”

He leaned in and kissed her. “Hurry up. I don’t want to miss a minute of tonight with you.”

Unable to resist his simple, yet lovely, request, she kissed him again and took off for the door to retrieve her clutch. Other guests stared at her abrupt departure, but she didn’t care. As Blake had ordered, she hurried to get back to him. Right where she wanted to be.

She weaved her way through the cars in the parking lot, unlocked Blake’s truck, and snagged her purse off the seat. She locked up, turned back to the restaurant, and took a few steps before a movement to her left caught her attention. A man stepped out between two cars, wearing a black leather jacket and black jeans. His face was in shadow, but his golden hair gleamed bright from the overhead light.

“Gillian.”

That voice. Her father’s voice. The fear swamped her from her toes up to her head. Suffocated, she opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The man took a step toward her but stopped when she took three back. Afraid he was real, terrified he wasn’t, she ran for the restaurant entrance. The hostess’s eyes went wide when she rushed through the door and slammed it behind her.

“Are you okay?”

Gillian sucked in a ragged breath and tried to pull it together. “I’m fine.” She cast her gaze to the floor and walked through the dining room toward her table with her purse clutched to her chest.

She stopped steps from the table when Blake said, “She’s my girlfriend.”