Chapter Nine
Jo
“Okay.” Clint walked back out onto the porch. “Are you ready for our date?”
He’d changed. The vest was gone and in its place was a nice button-down shirt. The shirt stretched just a little too much across his shoulders—I shivered when I thought of what those bare shoulders looked like. Instead of jeans, he had on a pair of black slacks. I’d been living in his house for almost a month now and had never seen him like this.
“I won’t bite.” He laughed.
I blinked. He’d been holding out his hand to help me out of the porch chair and I had been too busy staring at his clothes to notice. I grabbed his hand and he helped me to my feet—it was just like when we danced.
He’d taken a shower; I could smell his evergreen soap. But there was something more, something spicy and different. It took me a moment, but then I realized—motor oil. He smelled like evergreen and motor oil.
“Madam?” he said, offering his arm.
Slipping my hand onto his arm, I looked up at him and smiled. I was a beautiful queen with a handsome king by my side.
The kitchen had been transformed. Wineglasses and pretty silverware were set for two on top of a white tablecloth. Three candles in the middle lit the darkness.
“Oh,” I breathed as he led me toward the table.
He pulled out a chair for me. Once I was seated, he returned with two plates full of food. Steak and baked potatoes. “I hope you like your meat done medium,” he said, putting the food down in front of me. “I wasn’t sure.”
“This is too much, Clint,” I whispered as he sat next to me. “I don’t know how you did it all so fast.”
“Don’t ask questions, just enjoy it.” He grinned as he poured me a huge glass of wine.
I nodded, but it was hard to concentrate as the steak melted in my mouth. I closed my eyes.
“This is wonderful,” I said, cutting my next piece. “I haven’t had steak this good in years.”
“Let’s pretend this is a blind date,” he suggested. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself...?”
His voice trailed off and he waited for me to supply a name. I blinked. He was pretending we were total strangers.
“My name is Cheryl and I’m a nurse.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin. This could be fun. Maybe even more fun than my original date with Tomas. Tonight would be a total fantasy. “What’s your name?”
“My name is John.” He winked, catching on to the game. “I design cars.”
Clint talked for a while about the car that he designed. I tried to follow along, but he threw in a lot of technical stuff. After a while, I just enjoyed the sound of his voice as it washed over me.
“And now that my car is complete, I’ll have to paint it.” He leaned in toward me. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.” I laughed. “I’m not sure that’s right for a sports car.”
“If you like purple, then the car will be purple.” Clint grinned and took a sip of his wine. “All right, your turn. What kind of nursing do you do?”
I choked on my wine a little bit. Damn. The stupid game that I’d invented was a bad idea. I didn’t want my boss thinking I didn’t like my job. There was only one answer I could give.
“I work in geriatrics.” I squared my shoulders. “I manage a nursing home.”
He nodded and we ate in silence. The game had changed between us. The steak was no longer buttery soft; it turned to ash in my mouth.
“Do you really want to work in a nursing home?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. The word didn’t even sound convincing to my ears.
“Come on, Jo.” He picked at his potato before finally looking up at me. “I played—your turn now. Do you really want to work in geriatrics? If you do, that’s fine, but I don’t think you do.”
He put his knife down and sighed. He was finished. He was going to leave because I had stopped playing our game. The little bit of magic and fun was over. I wanted him to stay. I wanted to talk and feel special for just a little longer. There was only one way to do that. I had to tell him what I really wanted to do with my life, and not treat him like my employer.
“I want to work in surgery. Maybe an emergency room,” I blurted out.
“Emergency, huh?” A smile spread slowly across his lips. “Tell me about it.”
I don’t know how long I talked, but it was a while. I told him about the volunteer work I had done last summer for a heart surgeon and about how I liked the thrill, the rush of adrenaline you got when you worked in the operating room. We finished dinner and cheesecake for dessert.
“Oh.” I looked down at my empty plate. “I talked the whole night.”
He reached over and grabbed my hand. At first I wanted to jerk away from his grasp. His fingers were rough and calloused, but warm and comforting.
“I enjoyed hearing about your dreams.” He gave my fingers a squeeze. “I know this is all temporary, but I hope you feel comfortable talking to me. I want to be your friend.”
“I want to be your friend too.” I surprised myself—I really did want to be his friend. Then I yawned. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just a little late.”
We both laughed and stood up. I was tired. I hardly ever stayed up past ten o’clock, and it was nearly midnight. I didn’t want this night to end. But everything magical ends sometime, so I reached for the dirty dishes.
“Leave it,” Clint said, touching my shoulder. “Let the waitstaff get it. I’d like to take you home.”
“But we are home.” I looked around, confused.
Clint laughed and tucked my hand in his elbow, just like he had done at the beginning of the night. “Let me walk you to your door.”
We walked from the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall. I wanted it to go on forever. Our bodies were close but not touching, and I could feel the strength of his arm as we walked. For the first time ever, I wished the house was a mansion so we could walk together longer. In just moments, we had stopped in front of my bedroom door.
“I had a really good time tonight,” I said, turning to face him. “Thank you for making me feel special.”
“You are special,” he whispered. “No date would be complete without a good-night kiss. What do you say?”
I wanted a good-night kiss more than anything. Then I wanted to feel his arms wrap around me and never let go. He was my employer, though. I couldn’t get fired again and be out in the cold with no money. Live-in jobs were few and far between. I just couldn’t jeopardize my security.
But damn, I really wanted a kiss.
I nodded and offered the side of my face. A kiss on the cheek would be all right. It would have to keep me warm all night as I thought about everything I’d missed.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I nearly cried out in pain. It was the kind of kiss you’d get from your brother—closed lips, devoid of passion. But then he froze. His breath and his mouth were hot against my cheek.
“Jo?” he rasped, as if it hurt him to say my name.
He wasn’t asking a question, he was asking permission. God, I wanted it, and I really wanted it with him.
If I chose to kiss him, I’d be in uncharted waters. Trying to establish a relationship with my boss, whom I already lived with, was so unfamiliar to me. What if I failed? Was an amazing time in bed really worth everything I’d worked for? I could risk having my job fall apart so close to graduation.
My other option was to choose self-preservation. I knew that choice like the back of my hand, and so far it had served me well. I would graduate and become a nurse. But I couldn’t kiss Clint.
Two days ago that choice would have been easy. I always chose my own future and dreams over relationships and love. That was the only way I had survived.
I put my hand on his chest to stop him from kissing me again.
“I had fun tonight.” I looked into his eyes, not sure what to say or how to explain my reasons. “Good night.”
Running his hand through his hair, he shook his head. “Good night, Jo,” he said as he went to his room.
I stood alone in the empty hallway, disappointed. I’d have my nursing certificate and a job. Those were the important things, right? At that moment, I wasn’t sure.