Chapter 1
Kathryn
Across the small table, Christian held up his flute of champagne for a toast. He was over-the-top and frankly, dull, but I gave him my best smile. We sat by the large window with a view of downtown Houston, and the night sky was almost clear enough to see the stars. I missed being able to look up at them, but it was probably my only complaint about living here, even after nearly six years. At least it was a city, even if it was a fairly polluted one.
Christian grinned back, his boyish good looks and the small dimple in his right cheek warming my heart. “To us. We’ve had three good months, Katie, and I feel better about it all the time. Here’s to at least three more.”
“Cheers!” I tipped my glass to his and drank, the sweet bubbly giving me an extra lift in spirits. If I was going to keep up with Christian’s pretention, and the way he called me “Katie” instead of Kathryn, I needed a boost in energy. I motioned to the very attentive waiter. “Could I get a refill on my coffee, please?”
He nodded and rushed off to comply.
“In all seriousness,” Christian said, settling down, “where do you see us in six months?”
Bored, but together. It was my first thought because, after terrible luck since breaking up with Jarret, I was determined to make this one work. Christian Jennings had turned out to be the antithesis to my ex-fiancé, which was the best I could hope for, even if it meant being with someone dull. I found Christian to be stable and safe, and those were my top priorities in a man after Jarret.
Just the thought of Jarret sent shivers of disgust down my spine, and I set that aside, favoring a positive celebration of actually having made it this far with a good man.
Realizing Christian was still waiting for a response, I said, "I think we’re doing well, progressing slowly and really taking the time to get to know each other. I’d like to see that continue.” I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge what I knew was the underlying question of physical intimacy.
But Christian was a gentleman, the gracious type who would accept whatever I said without argument, and he nodded. “I think that’s the best thing for us. We both have ghosts in the past that make us hesitate, and I don’t want to push you anywhere you don’t want to go. I would rather have your complete trust.”
I appreciated the sentiment, and trust was exactly what I wanted in a man. It was also a rare quality in men, as I’d learned the hard way. Too many men were able to create a believable façade, and it drew you in, only to leave you hanging in the long run when the shell finally cracked to show the rotten egg inside.
Of course, it would have been nice if Christian had disagreed with me about something every now and then. Constantly catering to me was a bit much, and I craved intellectual conversation, passionate discussions. I hated settling for a guy who didn’t stimulate my mind, but at least I wouldn’t get my heart broken again.
“How’s your dinner?” he asked, pointing to my salmon and wild rice.
I realized I was picking at it, and I put my fork down. “It’s delicious. I’m just full already.”
I’d eaten more than half of it, and as the waiter returned with my coffee, I was grateful. I would take a good coffee over the rest of the salmon any day.
“What about yours?”
He had maybe three bites of his steak left, and his roasted potatoes were gone.
“Absolutely perfect.” He reached across the table and put his hand on mine. “A lot like you.”
I blushed. I didn’t always take compliments well, and even though this one seemed a little extreme – and too well planned. “Thank you, Christian. Thank you for being a true gentleman, for a wonderful dinner, and for making me feel truly appreciated.”
“Of course, Kathryn. I know I’m not so great with words sometimes, but I want you to know how strongly I feel about us. I think we’re good together, and you’re becoming an essential part of my life.” His expression was sincere, open, and vulnerable.
I tried to find my own words to assure him I didn’t intend to take the confession lightly. Clearing my throat and sipping at my coffee to buy a few seconds, I hedged, “I feel like we’re closing in on something serious, too. You’re…a constant, and that’s something I’ve looked for and haven’t been able to find before.”
Lord knew I’d tried. Over the past few months, I’d tried everything. I went out with my coworkers and roommates for drinks. I’d met men; most of who had been epic fails on the first date. I’d signed up on a website and met a couple of guys for drinks, but one had been a straight-up drunk and the other was looking for a one night stand. I’d even tried speed dating with Crystal, my roommate. That had been a complete disaster, and I’d tossed away the card full of names on my way out the door.
But I’d passed Christian at least a couple dozen times at my usual coffee stop on the way to work every morning, and we’d slowly built up to conversation. He was handsome and made attempts at humor. I’d thought he was bland, but he consistently made an effort at chitchat, and when he’d finally asked me out, I’d decided that maybe bland but sweet was the solution to my problems.
And here we were, three months later, celebrating how far we’d both come from our hideous past.
“I’m glad I can make you happy,” he said, cutting into my thoughts. “You know I think maybe we should end the night with an aperitif.” He winked, obviously proud of his high-class reference. “To say goodbye to the Ghosts of Dating Past!”
He was tacky, maybe, but sometimes he made me smile. In truth, he had a point. Christian hadn’t been successful, either, and he’d admitted that women tended to leave him for the more mysterious, dangerous type. That only made me more certain that he was the right man for me. I’d wasted plenty of time chasing bad boys, and now I was ready for someone like Christian to help me build the house with the picket fence and two kids with weekend trips to the grandparents a couple times a year.
“I think that’s a good idea. Did you have someplace in mind?” I reached for the gold and purple clutch purse that matched my dress, a flirty number with cap sleeves and a short, pleated skirt.
But before I could stand, Christian held up a hand to stop me. “Let’s have dessert first. I ordered a tiramisu to share with you. I hope you don’t mind. I know it’s your favorite.”
I was impressed he remembered, though I didn’t think I could eat much of it. Then again, the espresso in the dessert seemed to call my name. There were two forks and a caramel drizzle on the plate for decoration, and I knew Christian wouldn’t understand if I didn’t take at least a bite or two. I picked up the fork and took just the tip. It made my mouth sing, so I took a second bite. “I couldn’t stuff down another bite. And it’s amazingly rich.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’d be sick and heavy and want to call it a night.” Again, I picked up the clutch. “If you’ll excuse me just a moment, I’d like to freshen up. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded, and I clicked across the black marble floor in my knock-off Prada heels toward the ladies’ room. I looked in the mirror and was relieved to see that my nose wasn’t shining and I just needed a little lipstick. My hair – a chestnut brown that I kept in a businesslike bob parted on the left – was still smooth, and I tucked it behind my ears so I could lean over the counter to replace the coral pink on my lips.
I washed my hands and dried them, and I adjusted my dress before heading back to the table. Christian had finished the tiramisu, as I had expected, and I smiled at how predictable he was. It made me less suspicious of him, knowing that he really couldn’t surprise me with anything. I slid into my seat as he signed the check and tucked his credit card back in his wallet.
I leaned my elbows on the table and folded my hands, resting my chin on them primly. “So, you were talking about going for a nightcap somewhere. What did you have in mind?”
I knew of several bars and nightclubs in the area, and while not all of them were particularly swanky or popular, I knew a couple that would have a good vibe on a Thursday night.
I was anxious to make a suggestion, since I expected the usual from Christian – some boring, quiet place similar to this restaurant where we would sit on a balcony and stare at nothing while we drank. There would be lounge music that made me want to fall asleep, and we’d meet some yuppie types who wanted to talk about investment banking and politics. Dull and boring. Predictable.
Christian glanced out the window and pointed across the street and down two doors. “I’ve heard the drinks over there are amazing. Supposedly, the bartenders are great, and the atmosphere is full of energy without the noise. I think that’s exactly what the review said.”
I followed his gaze. The Purple Dragon had a reputation as a true dive bar, and while I’d heard the drinks were good, as well as the service, I’d also heard that a lot of seedy people frequented the joint. With Christian in his shirt and tie and me in my dress, I didn’t know if it was the right place for us.
“I don’t know, Christian. I think there’s a nice lounge about two blocks from here we could try out.” I couldn’t understand why he would want to end a celebratory date night at a place like the Purple Dragon.
He shrugged. “We could do that, but I really want to check this place out. I mean, how bad could it be?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if we’re really dressed for that place.”
He patted my hand in comfort. “Come on, Kathryn, we do so much of the same thing, and we never just decide to do something on a whim.” I knew from his memorization of that review that this wasn’t really a whim, but if it were his idea of spontaneity, I’d let him believe otherwise. “Let’s just check it out. If it’s terrible, we’ll down our drinks and leave.”
I sighed. I was still a little put off. Any other night, it might have made sense. But it seemed like Christian had gone to great lengths to set up a romantic and slightly pricey dinner with champagne and dessert and candles to celebrate an early anniversary. It didn’t follow suit – or his character – to add a trip to a dark place that was likely full of young punk kids who either didn’t fit in at or couldn’t afford to go to a nicer establishment.
I considered refusing, but the eagerness on his face was too much. How could I turn him down when he had that boyish smile that told me how much fun he thought we’d have? “Okay, let’s check it out. But if I feel uncomfortable, can we just leave?”
He covered his heart with his hand. “You have my word, we won’t stay if you feel awkward or uncomfortable.”
We headed out the door, Christian escorting me with a hand on my elbow. We walked to the door of the Purple Dragon, which was made of aged black wood and carried a large placard with an evil-looking purple dragon pictured on the front.
I took a deep breath as Christian pushed it open and thought to myself, here goes nothing.