"And she won't blow your secret?"
"Never."
"Then it's a date."
"My first real date."
A wave of pride swelled inside him, and he swore to himself that not only was Friday night going to be memorable as a first date, it was going to rank for all time as her best date ever, even if he did only have two days to pull it off.
When Friday rolled around, he had to congratulate himself. He met her at Joy's in a Lincoln Town Car with a private driver, and he felt pretty damn sophisticated as he walked up the porch to get her. And then, when the front door opened and she stood there looking stunning and elegant in a simple black dress with a string of pearls, her luxurious hair curling softly around her face, he knew that he'd made the perfect decision.
So he really wasn't expecting her look of confusion, maybe even shock, when she saw the car.
"It'll be more fun," he explained as he led her toward the drive. "We can talk, we don't have to worry about parking, and I won't completely turn you off by cursing like a pirate once we hit LA traffic."
"Oh. I guess that makes sense," she said, even though the little furrow between her brows suggested it didn't make sense at all. "It's just-you know what? Never mind." She squeezed his hand. "I'm really looking forward to tonight."
"Me, too," he said, even though her odd behavior had taken a bite out of his enthusiasm. "Actually, wait," he said, because he really couldn't stand the not knowing. He took her arm and pulled her to a stop. "What's going on?"
She hesitated, then answered. "It's just that I thought you didn't like all of, well, that stuff." She waved her hand at the car. "Your grandmother's stuff, I mean. The drivers and the limos and all of the show."
He laughed, so relieved the sound just bubbled out of him. "I like it just fine. What I said was that I want to earn it."
"But-"
"And I did. I have family money, sure. But I also have my own account. I opened it when I was twelve and sold my first print at an art fair in Laguna Beach."
"You used the money you've been saving since you were a kid to rent us a car?" Her smile was so wide she could have advertised toothpaste.
"I want tonight to be special."
She took the arm he offered. "It already is."
And she was right. The night started perfect and only got better. She'd never seen a professionally performed live ballet, and he felt like a superhero, simply from being the guy who gave that to her. They didn't have time for dinner, but they drove through In-N-Out Burger, his favorite fast food place ever, and though he'd been worried that she'd think it was tacky, she was so obviously delighted that they were eating to-go hamburgers in the back of a Town Car that he grinned all the way to the theater.
Best of all, they shared a chocolate milkshake.
She was smart and funny and easy to be with, and the more time they spent together the more she came out of her shell. The only hitch in the entire evening was the rather minor point that he couldn't watch the ballet at all. He pretended to, sure. But mostly he just watched her. The way she moved. The way her dress hugged her body. He wanted to touch her so damn much. To kiss her softly so that he could hear how much she liked it. And then hard, because that's what he wanted. All these feelings inside him, this need. It was all because of her, and he was a walking, talking ball of lust with a hard-on, and he really wasn't sure how he was going to hide that from her.
He spent the last act of the ballet trying to distract himself by thinking about how he'd photograph the stage if he'd been hired to do the publicity shots. What film speed. What aperture. How he'd place the dancers in relation to the set. How he'd set up the lighting. And maybe he should use a filter to give it a magical quality.
The more he thought about it, the deeper he sank. And, thank God, the more he relaxed. So by the curtain call he could stand beside her and not risk complete and total mortification.
But oh, God, he wanted this girl.
"That was amazing." She took his hands. "You're amazing. Thank you."
They were in a semi-private box, and the two other couples filed out first. She started to head that direction, but he tugged her back. "Wait," he ordered when she arched a brow in question. "I still owe you something."
For a moment she looked confused. But when he stepped closer and slid his hand around her waist, her eyes grew wide. His palm rested against her lower back, and he could feel her heat and the little nervous tremble. "I owe you a kiss, remember?"