Nightie Night: The Lingerie Series (Stir Sticks & Stilettos) (2 page)

I could see the shadows now overtake
his eyes. I slid to the edge of the couch wanting to go to him, but I didn’t. I
was unsure if he wanted to be comforted or deal with his grieving alone. Some
men were like that, not wanting people to know how deeply they were affected by
something. Loss of one’s parents would never go away, I was sure.

Needing to let him know I was here,
I reached across the table and laid my hand on his knee. “How long ago did it
happen?”

Aaren inhaled, his chest expanding
wide then let it out slowly. He glanced at my face then down at my hand.
Covering it with the heat of his, he squeezed it as if thanking me. “Three
years ago.”

“Is that why you decided to move to
Charlotte?”

Scooping up my hand, he held it in
his own as he leaned forward. Almost as if he realized the stretched position I
was in would be uncomfortable for me. It was, but I would have stayed like that
as long as he needed me. I liked the fact he was still holding my hand,
possibly needing a connection to someone as he spoke.

“No. I was tired of heavy winter
snow and wanted to move south just not too deep in the south.” He used his
other hand to begin tracing my fingers, up and down and around the tips.

It tingled and tickled some but I
enjoyed his touch, very much.

“I had considered changing my mind
and had stopped sending out my resume. However, it was my sister that convinced
me that our parents would not want me to put my life on hold for them. My
sister said we could find another way to remember mom and dad.”

“She sounds like a smart woman.” I
was finding it hard not to moan at his soft touch.

“Very. I didn’t send out anymore,
but three months later, I got a call from Mr. Pace who asked if I was still
available. He told me about the position and paid for me to come for an
interview and tour the home office. He was very persuasive so I came on board,
deciding my sister was right. Now, once a year we honor our parents by going
back to their favorite restaurant in our home town.”

“I think that is a perfect way to
honor them.” I squeezed his hand below mine.

He smiled at me. We sat like that
for a moment, him holding my hand and gazing into my eyes.

Under such close inspection, I
thought I probably looked rough.

“So, tell me about these football—”

The ringing of the office phone cut
him off. Releasing my hand, he moved to the far end of his desk and picked up
the phone.

I took that moment to rest the hand
he’d been holding in my lap. With my other, I wrapped it around my fist and
squeezed trying to quell the tingling sensation. My insides were a quivering
mess. I wondered if he’d picked up on the tremors in my hand. Not from nerves
but desire. I wanted Aaren like none other. And being his emotional pillow for
the last fifteen minutes had only endeared me even more to him. A man that
wasn’t too macho to confess his emotions was a lure. Aaren had trusted me with
his.

A couple minutes later he finished
talking to Blaine the security guard on duty in the main lobby then said, “Our
food is downstairs. Sit tight. I’ll go get it.”

“Thanks. Can I at least give you
money for the tip?” I offered.

“Absolutely not.” He rummaged around
one of the inside flaps of his coat on the back of his desk chair and pulled
out his wallet. “Be right back.” He strutted from the office and, seconds
later, I heard him whistling down the hall.

That sound made me smile. I never
figured Aaren for a whistler. Tonight was becoming an evening of information
about Mr. Aaren Reston. I was glad I had decided to stay. Rising, I grabbed my
purse from the corner of the couch and walked to the side door that led to his
bathroom. All the department heads at the company had bathrooms in their
offices. I couldn’t wait until I was at the senior level so I could have one in
mine. Using the time I had before Aaren returned, I turned on the light and
stared at myself in the mirror.

Thankful I didn't appear as wrung
out and exhausted as I felt from the extended hours, I removed the band from my
hair that I had used to keep it out of my way while we worked. Pulling my brush
from my purse, I ran it briskly through my hair. He and I were the only two
left in the building besides Security. Even the cleaning crew had come in two
hours ago and emptied the trash, I knew Aaren would be back soon since there
was no wait at the elevator.

Next, I added a fresh coat of plum
passion gloss to my lips. Not too much where it would look like I was trying to
spruce up, but enough that they didn’t look so dry and unappealing.  Finally, I
fluffed my hair to give it more body, wishing I had waves like my cousin Chase
and his mother instead of the straight tresses I was born with. When I heard
the dinging of the elevator, I pinched up along my cheekbones to add color to
my face and rushed out.

Tossing my purse back into the
corner of the couch, I went to stand before the window. Not because I was
attempting any kind of seductive pose. Hell, I knew that the heated look Aaren
had given me when he was sitting beside me showed he may have appreciated the
view of my cleavage like any other red-blooded male that liked large breasts,
but I didn't know if that meant he could even be seduced. Was he attracted to
me any further than a glance?

Pushing away rampant lustful
thoughts of him and his level of interest in me, I took a few seconds to get
myself together. Staring down at the b
usy streets of Uptown
Charlotte, I inhaled a deep breath. Fourteen floors up, I could see people
leisurely strolling to and from bars and restaurants while valets opened and
closed doors of expensive cars. The booming city was hectic in the day but came
alive at night.

“Dinner has arrived,” Aaren
announced.

Drawn more by his voice instead of
the knowledge that my empty stomach would be satisfied soon, I turned. Facing
him, I smiled and watched him move with a panther's grace into the office.
Watching him would never get old.

I crossed to the sitting area we had
practically lived in for the last six weeks and started helping him move some
of the paper to the floor just to give us a little room to set down our food.

Handing me my round aluminum tray,
he set his down on the table then pulled out plastic forks and a bag of bread.
I could smell the warm buttery garlic coming from it and it made my mouth
water. 

“Gino sent over a bottle of Amarone.
I guess he wanted to help me to impress the woman I was eating with.” He held
up the bottle of wine. “I know we both have to drive home eventually, but I
don’t think a glass will be overdoing it.”

Eventually
. My cheeks warmed at the thought of
relaxing for hours with Aaren while we sipped wine and ate good food getting to
know each other. “Not at all.”

Setting the bottle on the table, he
grabbed our two mugs. “Go ahead and dig in. I’m going to wash out our wine
glasses,” he jested and headed to the bathroom.

I laughed and peeled the top off my
food and was assailed by the delicious scent of fresh herbs steeped in a rich
tomato sauce. I almost groaned at the sight of melted, golden mozzarella. I had
never mastered the art of just eating a salad or a couple bites of a meal when on
a date with a man. Even though technically this was not a date with Aaren, I
was still concerned. Aaren may be like my cousin Chase who, before he proposed
to my best friend Oriana, found himself dating a woman that lived off a cup of
yogurt and a large latte a day.

“Alright, two clean cups.” Aaren
strolled in from the bathroom drying the mugs with a paper towel. “I thought
you’d be eating, by now. I usually can’t resist digging in as soon as I smell
the wonderful aroma. Evidently you have a stronger will power than I.” He
smiled as he removed the cork from the wine with the mini wine opener from the
bag.

I could see the restaurant's logo on
the stem of the opener. A great marketing tool, I thought.

“I didn’t want to start eating
without you. Manners from my parents, sorry.” I gave him a single shoulder
shrug and a small smile. It wasn’t a complete lie— my parents did instill in us
the etiquette of waiting for everyone to be ready to eat at the table. No need
for Aaren to know I was nervous.

“That’s very kind.” After filling
both cups, he removed the lid from his dish, held it below his face and
inhaled. “Oh, Kalan, I don’t think there are many things that smell as good as
this. No other food anyway.”

Even though I knew he was talking
about the food, his gaze was fixed on mine--those green eyes dark and intense.
My heart rate started beating faster and I crossed my legs and sat back on the
couch. Parting my lips just a little, I exhaled low and slow then said,
“Nothing.”

My mind was mush. Lowering my eyes
away from his compelling ones, I stared at my meal. Digging in, I took the
first bite, decided it was best for me to concentrate fully on feeding the need
that I could satisfy. Aaren wasn’t an option.

My taste buds exploded when the
amazing flavors coated my tongue and caused my eyes to close and a moan to come
out of my mouth. “Ohhhh my gracious. Mmmmm.”

I could not help it, I loved good
food and this was delicious. I slowly chewed and continued to whimper in contentment.
Finally swallowing the first cheesy, sauce-filled bite of fresh pasta, I opened
my eyes and said, “Aaren, this is wonderf—”

The hot, intense stare he was giving
me removed the words from my mouth. His fork was buried deep into his lasagna
but he had yet to lift his first bite of the delicious food. However, his gaze
was locked on me as if I was the item on the menu to be consumed, fully, and
that turned my insides to molten rivers of desire.

Shit
. I’d never had a man look at me
with such blanket need as I saw in the deep green of Aaren’s eyes. My heart
began to pound hard; I thought it would beat right out of my chest. Lifting my
hand, I placed it over my chest and pressed just to ensure it stayed encased
behind my ribs. If there was even a remote possibility that I could have
something with this man I wasn’t going to die of a heart attack before
experiencing passion with him.

My movement must have snapped him
out of whatever lustful thoughts were going on in his mind, because he reached
for his mug of wine and drank. After the drink, he inhaled and smiled at me,
his gaze once again clear.

Damn it, this man’s control is
ridiculous. I can see he’s just as attracted to me as I am to him, why won’t he
say something? Let it loose and please both of us.

“I’m glad you like it.” He took a
bite of his and nodded as if agreeing it was as good as he remembered and
promptly took a second bite. 

I wish he’d groaned. I would have
liked to hear what he possibly could sound like during the throes of passion.
Let
it go, Kalan
.

Lifting my wine, I sipped, allowing
the bitter taste of the rich Italian dry wine to return me to my senses. Since
it worked so well for him.

We ate in silence for a moment. When
I was halfway through with my lasagna, Aaren held the white paper bag toward
me. “You must try the garlic knots, Kalan.”

Lowering my fork, I shook my head
and smiled at him. “I don’t know. The last thing I tried has already caused an
addiction for me.”

He chuckled. “Hey, you are not
alone. We’ll just have to keep each other supplied constantly is all.” He shook
the bag and the bread rattled from the inside.

“Probably.” Reaching my fingers into
the opening, I removed a single knot. It was shining with the buttery coating,
chunks of garlic and diced parsley and it made my mouth water. Taking a bite
into the soft, fresh bread, I was hooked. Swallowing, I argued, “See, this is
exactly what I was talking about, Aaren.”

I bounced up and down in my seat.
Setting my container on the table, I pouted while nibbling on the remaining
half of the bread.

“I just couldn’t be miserably happy
with this addiction alone.” He winked as he dug out his own knot.

“True. Something this good you have
to share.” I smiled and popped the last bite into my mouth.

“Tell me about you, Kalan.” He
leaned back casually in his chair and ate his knot while still holding his
lasagna in his other hand.

“There’s not much to tell. What you
see is what you get.” I drank more wine and felt the warmth of the alcohol
spread through my stomach.

“I like what I see.” There was a
deeper meaning weaving through his words but instead of continuing on that
vein, he said, “How old are you?”

“Thirty-one next month.” I didn’t
attempt to play the coy role of a woman and tease him about asking me the
question. I was very proud of what I’d accomplished in my years. At least
professionally. “You?”

“Thirty-seven as of last month.
However, for you, I’m tempted to ask for your identification to prove you’re
not twenty-five.” He teased, finishing his bread and setting his food on the
table.

“Oh, goodness, not twenty-five again.”
I groaned and picked up my lid and placed it on my lasagna. Tomorrow it would
be great for breakfast or lunch once the herbs had finished settling in.