Very Wicked Things
Holy shizzle. My mouth parted again. The surprises just kept coming.
“Dovey, first of all, I have never gotten down on my knees for a girl. But you’re a special girl who requires special measures, so here goes.” He cleared his throat and spoke as if he’d memorized it. “The first time I noticed you was through the window of the dance building. I don’t know jack about ballet, but I’d never seen anything more beautiful than the way you moved. The second time I noticed you, you waltzed into my art history class this year, and walked right past me, like you didn’t even care who I was. And…I don’t know…I wanted to get to know you.” He shrugged and looked down sheepishly. “I picked these up at the lake house this weekend for you. Been trying to keep them alive until I saw you, but well, I don’t think they made it, but here.”
I took the wilted flowers and stared into them.
That was, that was…
“I have a rep…and most of it’s true, I’ll give you that…but I can guarantee-dam-tee-you I have never gone this far just to ask a girl to dinner.”
“Are you saying I’m different from all the other girls?”
“I am.”
I let the flowers fall to my side as my arms went weak. This. This was insane and he needed his head examined if he thought for one moment…
“And if you tell me no, then I’ll leave you alone. Right now. I’ll call it quits and stop harassing you. I won’t sit with you at lunch or walk you to class. I will never speak to you again. No hard feelings. I’ll pretend like you don’t exist.”
And that made my heart clench.
Cars passed and students walked by, but I didn’t notice, my eyes on his impossible yellow ones, wondering how many other girls had stared into those orbs and believed they’d change him. But, he’d never gotten down on a knee for them. Right? That’s what he said, and I didn’t take him for a liar.
I sighed. “It better be Italian, is all I’m saying, because I’m starving and I need the carbs.”
Relief flooded his face. “Then I have the perfect place. Vespucci’s just opened near the Galleria.” He opened the car door. “And I never want you to go hungry.”
That comment put me in a sort of sexual daze. The thought of a guy taking care of me, making sure I had my food, well, it was a turn-on. I never said I was normal, okay.
We must have looked interesting in the restaurant booth, him still in uniform and me in my ballet tights. I did manage to throw a long tunic on over my leotard, and he’d removed his pads and cleats in the car. Now he wore his jersey, the pants, and flip-flops. And we were going into one of the most expensive restaurants I’d ever been to. But he was Cuba Hudson. Any maitre de would bend over backward to serve him.
Three hours later, after we’d had a wonderful dinner and had talked about everything under the sun, I knew I had to go. Heather-Lynn was with Sarah, but I wanted to get home and check on her.
He’d been texting his own parents as well. First to check on his mom and then to make sure his dad was home with her. I thought it sweet.
He leaned in across the table. “Before I take you back to your car, give me a little something to dream about tonight when I’m all alone.”
“Like what?”
He nibbled on his bottom lip in a way that made me warm. “Let’s play a game. Tell me a secret.”
“So this is The Secret Game?”
“Totally made it up right this second, but yeah, that’s what we’ll call it,” he said.
“Are there rules to this game?”
“Yeah,” he reached across and played with my fingers, caressing each individual one. “Make it something you’ve never told anyone.”
I racked my brain, but couldn’t come up with a thing that didn’t involve hookers and mobsters. My secrets were not fun ones. “What do I get for telling you my secrets?”
“I’ll give you a kiss,” he whispered, his eyes on my mouth.
A tiny shudder went through me, but I said, “Nope, I need more than that.”
“What do you want then?” His voice deepened.
My eyes flicked out to the parking lot. “I want to drive your kick-ass car.”
He paled. And it was such a switch from the sexy vibe he’d been sending, that I laughed.
He sat back. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Take all the time you need,” I said, my eyes on his Porsche. A hundred thousand dollar car. I couldn’t wait to get my hands around that leather…
“For you to drive my car, I’d want a kiss to go with it. And two secrets, not one.”
I blinked. “This is getting complicated. I’m going to need some paper to keep up with all your rules.”
“My game, my rules. And I want my mouth on yours. Tonight.”
“Oh.”
“Well? I’m waiting,” he growled.
I cleared my throat. “First secret no one knows is I’m half-Russian. My father moved here as a young man with his parents to open a grocery store in Ratcliffe. Katerina is my Russian name Mama gave me for him. Dovey is her name for me.”
“Interesting. What else?”
“I love to play chess and had dreams once of being some kind of champion. Goofy, right? The man who taught me to play was one of the renters in our building. His name was Elvis, and he was forever humming “You Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog”. Once, he made me this peanut butter and fried banana—”