Blushing Violet (3 page)

Chapter Three

Violet shifted nervously in her black high heels on the golden carpet in the foyer of Opus One. She had spent the last fifteen minutes sitting in her car in the nearby parking garage, trying to talk herself into going inside. It wasn’t just the somewhat blind date that intimidated her, it was the restaurant itself.

Rich and opulent, the atmosphere lived up to the hype she had heard about it. Never in a million years would she have come here to eat. It was far above her price range and she felt like an imposter. Elegant men and women, dressed to impress, filled the portion of the dining room she could see. The bar was also bustling with gorgeous women coquettishly smiling at handsome men in thousand-dollar suits.

Pulling the black shawl over her shoulders, she damned herself again for letting Bethany talk her into dressing up. Instead of the comfortable navy-blue cotton dress that she wanted to wear, Bethany had bullied her into pulling out the black cashmere dress with its daring halter neck. She bought it on sale last year, but had never actually dared to wear it in public.

It always amazed her how five-foot-one Bethany managed to be more threatening than a platoon of Marines. Trying to resist her was like trying to resist a hurricane. It was easier to just give in and let her have her way.

Her fingers clutched the little black beaded bag Bethany had lent her and she shifted in her heels. The knee-length dress she wore was the nicest thing she owned. But compared to the outfits of the other women here, she might as well have been wearing a ratty sweatshirt and jeans.

The older couple in front of her moved away from the podium, escorted to their table by a pretty hostess in a daring oyster-gray dress. Squaring her shoulders, Violet stepped up and said, “I’m here to meet my date.”

Tall and thin, the head hostess could have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. With her black hair slicked back from her face, she oozed confidence and elegant sex appeal. “What is the gentleman’s name?”

Nerves and embarrassment scrambled her brains as she tried to remember his real name. She had been thinking of him as Rocky for so long she was drawing a blank. The hostess arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. She briefly considered sending him a text message, but changed her mind.

“Uh…it’s a blind date. I mean a first date, it’s not really blind because we met online. Well I guess you could call it a semi-seeing first date.” Her babbles died off to a whisper. “Maybe he left you a message for me? My name is Violet.”

The hostess blinked in surprise and gave her a rather visible head-to-toe examination. Whatever she saw clearly didn’t match what she expected. “You’re here to meet Mr. Romano?”

Relief rushed through her. “Yes, that’s his name.” The couple behind her shifted impatiently.

The pretty blonde came back to the podium and the hostess turned to her. “Please escort our guest to Mr. Romano’s table.”

Now it was the blonde’s turn to give her a surprised and pitying look. “Please follow me.”

Violet’s stomach churned and she clutched her handbag with white knuckles. This was horrible, a total mistake. Obviously Mr. Romano was hideous. That was the only explanation for the woman’s surprise and pity. Or worse yet,
she
was so hideous that the hostess felt bad for her blind date. The more she looked around at the crowd, the more she became aware of the fact she was probably the only woman in the room who had a haircut that cost under two hundred dollars and wore something that wasn’t couture original in a size six. She tried to suck in her stomach as much as she could as she followed the hostess.

Another worry entered her head. What if he expected to go Dutch, or worse yet, for her to pay for everything? It would cost her a mortgage payment just to afford a meal. If he ordered any wine she’d have to go sell blood.

Her worrying was interrupted as they rounded the curve of a group of tables and reached the back portion of the restaurant. The gold theme continued in here with elegant table settings and opulent dark-wood decorations. A beautiful, etched-glass display featuring farmers working in a field covered the back wall. The hostess waited for a waiter with a tray full of amazing and decadent food to pass.

Violet scanned the people on this side of the room, trying to imagine which one was Mr. Romano. A group of attractive older women whispered and ogled a man sitting with his back to her. Dark-brown hair brushed the collar of his navy-blue, pin-stripe suit. Broad shoulders filled out the jacket and the small sliver of skin visible between his hair and the collar was a deep bronze.

A small sigh of disappointment filtered through her lips. Whoever he was waiting for was one lucky woman.

Threading through the crowd, the hostess stopped at the dark-haired man’s table and Violet almost dropped her purse. Turning on the charm, the blonde purred, “Mr. Romano, your guest has arrived.”

“You mean my exquisite date.” The words rolled off his tongue with a faint accent and Violet forgot to breathe. Handsome, utterly and devastatingly handsome. He turned from the table and his lips curved into a full and seductive smile. Thick lashes framed dark eyes and a bold nose added to the complexity of his face. He took her unresisting hand and brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a featherlight press of skin. “Hello, Violet.”

Next to them, the hostess looked as if she was ready to pass out. Violet became aware that a good many people in the crowd were watching them and she flushed.

“Nice to meet you,” she said in a high voice and cleared her throat.

His eyes sparkled and he nodded to the hostess. “Could you have them send us a bottle of my usual?”

“Of course, Mr. Romano.” The blonde gave her one more disbelieving look and left.

Feeling unbearably awkward, Violet quickly sat across the table from him. He gave her a puzzled glance, then moved to sit next to her. “Carlos,” he said and lightly rolled the R.

“Huh?” Cursing her inability to form a coherent thought, she tried again. “I mean, pardon me?”

“My name is Carlos.” Unable to take the intensity of his gaze, she looked down at his hands on the table. Having worked in a high-end salon as a massage therapist for the past five years, she knew watches and jewelry. And if it wasn’t a fake, Carlos wore a Patek Philippe that cost more than her first year of college.

He continued to watch her and she realized he was waiting for her to say something. “Nice to meet you, Carlos.”

A small smile lit his face. “I like it when you say my name.”

The server brought them the champagne and Violet took a big sip and sighed in appreciation. It was eons better than the champagne she had splurged on for New Years. Clearing her throat, she looked everywhere but at the man sitting next to her. As the silence between them deepened, she tried to desperately think of something, anything to say. She wanted so badly to impress him with her wit, to show him that he hadn’t made a horrible mistake by asking her out on a date. The more she panicked the more her mind refused to spit out anything useful. If he didn’t say something soon she was going to be forced to talk about the weather.

She took another gulp of her drink and hoped he didn’t notice how her hand was trembling. The champagne that moments ago tasted so good turned sour in her mouth as she imagined his disappointment. Instead of the usual stunning beauty who she was sure he was used to, he was stuck with a fat redhead who wouldn’t talk. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and found him staring at her.

Carlos didn’t reach for his glass, just continued to watch her. “This place makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”

“No, it’s really lovely.” She tried to think up something else to say. “The food smells great.”
Yeah, that’s it, remind him about how chubby you are.
Before her mouth could get her into any more trouble, she took another gulp of her champagne.

His lips narrowed into a thin line and he stood. “Come with me.”

“What?”

After tracing his fingers down her arm, he wrapped her hand in his. She thought her heart was going to explode from that one gentle touch. “More than anything, I want you to be happy. Please come with me.”

Holding his hand, she let him help her up from the table. “Okay.” When he looked at her that way, he could have requested a blowjob and she would have dropped to her knees.

Instead of releasing her fingers, he held her hand and led her through the crowd. Women to her left and right shot her envious looks and she kept her gaze focused on Carlos’ back. Or more correctly, on his amazing ass and shoulders.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” she said and wondered what the heck was going on. They paused before the hostess stand and the lovely brunette gaped at the sight of them holding hands then schooled her features back into a polite mask.

“Have them send the meal to my home.” He slipped her a folded bill as a tip.

The hostess made the money disappear with the skill of a magician and smiled. “Of course, Mr. Romano.”

Carlos tugged her hand and led her out the front door. A cold breeze blew down the street and she shivered. “Where are we going?” She hoped it wasn’t too far; her heels were not made for long-distance walking.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Carlos wrapped it around her shoulders. The warm and heavy cloth smelled like his clean and crisp cologne. His hands trailed down her arms in a caress that made her body tight with desire. “Just a block down to my apartment.”

Her shock must have shown in her expression and he took a step back. “Violet, I really want to get to know you. And I want you to know me. I should have realized the restaurant is not the best place for that to happen.” He looked at her through his amazing lashes. “I promise to be an utter gentleman. If you want, we can borrow the door guard’s can of mace and bring it with you.”

That startled a laugh out of her and some of the tension eased from her shoulders. In a perfect world, he would be anything but a gentleman. “That is a lovely offer, but I think I’ll pass on the mace.”

“But you’ll come home with me?” The words were innocent enough, but she detected an undercurrent of heat to them.

Her sister’s voice scolded her for even imagining that such an amazing man could be interested in her. She told the voice to shut up and met his oh-so-dark eyes. “Yes.”

* * * * *

Two hours later, Violet wiggled her toes in front of the modern stainless steel and black marble fireplace and rotated her stick.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve ever made smores in the middle of a high-rise.” She turned her stick, carefully checking the darkness of the marshmallow.

“Then you have been leading a very deprived life.” Carlos thrust his marshmallow into the flames and then blew it out.

Silence met this statement and she removed her marshmallow. His words struck a chord and she was reminded of how out of place she was here. Everything about the apartment indicated wealth and good taste. She was curious about a picture on the wall that had a black cloth draped over it, but was too busy staring at Carlos to give it much thought.

Her finger punched through the hard shell of the roasted marshmallow and she hissed and shook her hand. “Ouch.”

“Let me see.” Carlos took her finger and, to her astonishment, sucked it into his mouth. The collar of his white dress shirt hung open, revealing a portion of his smooth and muscled chest. Warm and firm, his tongue caressed her finger and he slowly withdrew it from his mouth. After inspecting it, he looked up at her with hungry eyes. “Better?”

The sensuality of the moment robbed her of her ability to speak. A tender smile curved his lips and he said in a soft voice, “Violet, I’m going to kiss you now.”

Her body seemed to move of its own accord as she leaned in to meet him and kissed him back with surprising force. Firm, eager, demanding, his lips moved against hers with more passion than she had ever experienced. Drawing back, he turned the kiss gentle, a long and slow series of movements that left her with wet panties.

He looked at her and she ducked her head. A small portion of sanity surfaced past her desire and she was embarrassed at her reaction. He must think she was a nymphomaniac.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night. Since the moment I saw you at the restaurant.” Instead of going for her breasts, or any other obvious erogenous zone, he plunged his hands into her hair and gently ran it through his fingers. “Fantastic.”

The sincerity of his words warmed her more than a glass of brandy and she followed the gentle tug of his hands, pulling her closer. Instead of meeting her lips, he tilted her head back and nibbled a path down her jaw, to her neck. She moaned softly as his teeth tugged at her ear. It had been a long time since she had been with a man who appreciated foreplay.

She hesitated a moment, her hands hovering over his warm body before she placed her palms on his chest and slid them slowly upward, feeling the heat of his firm muscles beneath the soft cloth. His growl against her skin encouraged her and she ran her fingers up his neck. The slight edge of stubble felt wonderful against her fingertips and she laced her fingers behind his neck.

His grip on her hair tightened and she gasped as he licked the hollow above her collarbone. That edge of pain sweetened her pleasure to the point of need. Leaning into him, she cupped his chin and brought his lips back to hers. Their tongues stroked against each other, velvet rasps that had her squeezing her thighs together.