Callie looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s not very sexy. I mean it’s not low cut or anything.”
“Trust me,” Delaney told her. “You are stunning. How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. It’s not really me.”
Delaney had a feeling Callie wouldn’t be comfortable in any fancy dress. Given what she knew about her friend’s past, she doubted Callie had ever worn one before.
Callie looked at the tag and yelped. “Oh my God! This dress is six hundred dollars. That’s used.”
Delaney grinned. “Honey, it’s a Carmen Marc Valvo couture gown. It would have cost over three thousand new.”
“For a dress? One dress?”
“You want to look the part.”
“But for that I could go to a department store and buy something new.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “It is really pretty.”
“It is.”
“But six hundred dollars.”
“Are you going to faint? Do you need to breathe into a paper bag?”
“Very funny. All right. I’ll take it. But don’t tell anyone how much I spent.”
“I cross my heart.”
Callie smiled at her. “Thank you, Delaney. You’re so sweet to me. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re easy to be friends with.”
Callie returned to the dressing room. Delaney looked out the window as she waited and thought about the other friends she’d had—the ones she’d let slip away. She was still trying to figure out why. Guilt, maybe? Her payment for having what she wanted? She wasn’t sure if she had a clue, but what she did know was that she was desperately unhappy with how things were and she wanted to change. As it was her life, it was all up to her. But how, and more importantly, did she actually have the courage and strength to do it?
* * *
Santiago didn’t like being nervous—it was an unfamiliar state of being and one he didn’t generally permit. But as he rode the elevator up to his place, Callie at his side, he had to admit, there was general unease going on.
It was her, he admitted if only to himself. Being around her always made him happy and he wanted things to work out. Maybe a little too much, which meant worrying they wouldn’t, which created a crazy cycle of wanting desperately to be with her, then being nervous when he was. Life had been a lot easier when he’d cared less about the women he was with. But this was a whole new ball game. This was Callie.
She laughed as the doors opened on his floor. “I think that’s the longest elevator ride I’ve ever taken.”
“We should go to the Space Needle. You take an elevator up to the observation deck where, if the weather’s good, you can see forever. This was only thirty-eight stories or about four hundred feet. The observation deck is at five hundred and twenty feet.”
“You are filled with unexpected information, aren’t you?”
“It’s a gift.”
He led the way to his front door, then opened it and let her go first.
He’d tidied up before he left. The cleaning service had been by that week, so every surface gleamed. He’d already prepped dinner. Appetizers were ready to go into the oven, the salad only needed dressing and his mother’s famous potato casserole would bake after he pulled the appetizers out. He was going to panfry the salmon, something he’d done dozens of times. It was an easy entrée he often made for himself and he hoped Callie would like it.
He waited in the foyer as she explored the condo’s open floor plan. The unit was on the corner, so he had a 180-degree view of Puget Sound. There was a beautiful sunset on the horizon, ferryboats heading to and from the dock, and a massive container ship heading out to sea. He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect moment.
Callie looked around the big living room with its leather sectional and matching club chairs. The tables were all glass and chrome, the art bold, colorful abstracts. He’d left the integrated sound system on and jazz played in the background.
An area in the corner was raised slightly. He’d put the dining room table there. It, too, was glass and chrome. He’d used pale linens, bought fresh flowers for the table and had set a high-end chardonnay on ice. He’d done his best to impress at every turn yet couldn’t shake the feeling he’d somehow done it all wrong.
“You hate it,” he said as Callie crossed to the window to study the view.
“What? No. I’m overwhelmed. Your place is beautiful. Very modern with clean lines. The view is incredible.” She smiled. “Did you order the sunset just for me?”
“I did.”
“Must be nice to have that much power. I’m not sure I could handle the responsibility.”
He chuckled. “You get used to it.”
He crossed to her and stood behind her, his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him.
They touched from chest to thigh, but it was the middle part that got his attention. Her ass nestled right up against his dick and he liked it. A lot.
No, he told himself firmly. No way. He was not going there with Callie—not for a while yet. He wanted them to get to know each other better. He wanted things solid and for their time together to be special. Sex was easy—it was relationships that were a bitch.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked.
“A couple of years.”
“You bought the houses for your mom and your brother and his family first, didn’t you?”
“Why would you ask that?”
She turned in his arms and smiled up at him. “Because you have a hero complex. Not in a bad way, I don’t think. More that you have to take care of everyone around you. So family first.”
He thought she might be complimenting him, but he wasn’t sure. A lot of women he’d dated had complained about how much he was there for his family.
“Two houses on an oversize lot don’t come on the market very often. When I saw those, it made sense to buy them first.”
She put her hands on his chest. Heat burned down to his groin. He had to use all of his considerable willpower to keep himself from reacting physically to her touch.
“Uh-huh.” She raised herself on tiptoe and lightly kissed his mouth. “You’re a softy.”
“I’m not sure I like that. Can’t I have a superhero name?”
“King Softy? Super Softy?”
He winced. “We’re moving in the wrong direction.” As his control snapped and blood rushed to his groin, he took a step back so she wouldn’t feel his sudden erection. He needed distance and a distraction.
“I have appetizers. Let’s get them in the oven.”
“Let’s.”
They went into the kitchen. Callie prowled around, checking out the various stainless steel appliances and reading labels in his small wine cellar.
“It’s like something out of a magazine,” she said as she slid onto one of the stools at the island. “I didn’t know people really lived like this.” She smiled at him. “I say that very aware of the irony. I mean, look where I live.”
“It’s a family home.”
“It’s the size of an airplane hangar. Still, there’s a warmth there. And the yard is huge.”
“It would be a great place to raise kids.”
Her eyes widened. “I never thought of that, but sure.”
He slid the cookie sheet into the oven and set the timer, then collected ingredients for martinis.
“Vodka okay?” he asked.
“Um, sure.”
There was something in her tone that alerted him to a problem. “You don’t like martinis? I can make something else. What would make you happy?”
She flushed as her gaze slipped from his. She seemed to collect herself after a second. Her shoulders squared and her chin went up.
“I’ve never had a martini,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I like them or not.”
He swore silently. He was an ass. Of course she hadn’t—when would she have had the chance? She’d gone to prison when she’d been eighteen and got out three years ago. Since then she’d been scrambling to keep her head above water. There hadn’t been extra money for things like martinis.
He walked around the island, spun the stool until she was facing him, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He moved deliberately, brushing her mouth with his before running his tongue along her bottom lip. She parted insistently, inviting him to the party. Her hands settled on his waist.
He gave himself a full twenty seconds to enjoy the lushness of her mouth before carefully, deliberately releasing her. His dick throbbed like a son of a bitch. Relief would have to wait, he told himself. Until he was alone.
“Your past made you what you are today,” he told her. “I’m more and more impressed every time I’m with you. I do forget that there must be a lot of things that are new to you. I hope you know I’m not put off by that. In fact, I want to share as much as I can with you.”
Her eyes got big and her mouth trembled slightly. “Will it be shaken or stirred?” she asked.
He grinned and walked around to continue making the drinks. “True aficionados will tell you shaking the martini bruises it and it is always preferable to stir the liquor in the ice.”
“And you?”
“No pain, no gain.”