Pieces For You (19 page)

He really had a flair for the dramatic.  Could he be sending these from prison?  The thought gave me chills—not the good kind.  No, the prison must screen his outgoing mail.  He must have enlisted help on the outside.  I don’t know which prospect was more disturbing.  I briefly debated telling Hunter about the notes, but decided it would only play into
his
hand and I didn’t want to worry everyone unnecessarily.

I stuffed the threat under my visor with the first and decided to ignore them, unless another arrived.  For now, I had far more important matters to attend to.

I ran into the apartment like a bat out of hell and jumped into the shower before it had a chance to warm, causing me to shriek at the shock of cold water coursing down my back.  I hoped Meg spit in that last guy’s drink.  I washed, exfoliated, and shaved in record time.  If speed showering were an Olympic sport, I just brought home the gold—take that, Russia.

I slathered lotion on my body while drying my hair, no small feat, before working the best make-up magic I could in less than five minutes.  I rolled the ends of my hair with a large-barrel curling iron before pulling the sides up in a 1940’s pin-up style.  I dashed into my room and glanced at the clock—ten minutes—I could do this.  I carefully stepped into my dress before adding my emerald green Gucci crystal stilettos.  Once my favorite emerald chandelier earrings were in place, I turned to survey my efforts in my full-length mirror—perfection.  At first glance, my dress appeared to be a beautifully tailored Dior black lace pencil dress with a straight neckline that exposed my collarbones and cut across the cusp of my shoulders, appearing to hang on the edge as if by magic.  It wasn’t until the light caught my movement that a layer of emerald-colored silk peeped through, adding a subtle hint of color and elegance.  But the showstopper was a deep ‘V’ that plunged all the way down to my lower back.  It was designed to hold attention—or so I hoped.

I heard a knock and walked to the door as calmly as I could manage, considering my giddiness.  I looked through the peephole to find a wall of chest that could only belong to Griffin.  Releasing the security chain, I opened the door.  My breath caught at the sight before me.  Sweet baby Jesus, the man was the reason suits were invented.  He wore a custom-made, black Dolce and Gabbana three-piece with a white shirt and emerald green silk tie.

As if that wasn’t enough, in his hands he held a stunning bouquet of irises and green orchids.  I had never seen its equal, exquisite and unique—the man, the suit, the flowers…all of it.  He extended the flowers to me with a smile, which I returned.

“They reminded me of you,” he said of the flowers.  “You’re always beautiful, but tonight you are beyond words.”

“Thank you, they are the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen.  You’re setting the bar really high.  How will you top this?” I teased, overwhelmed by him in the best of ways.

“Good thing I’m creative,” he replied without concern.

“Just give me a moment to put these in water,” I said.

I turned toward the kitchen when his sharp inhale reminded me of my backless state.  Feeling wicked, I glanced over my shoulder with only a hint of a smile, my best bedroom-eyes trained on him.

“You like?” I asked coyly.

“Men have started wars over beautiful women throughout history, but none of them could rival you in that dress.”

The man could teach a workshop on how to pay a compliment.

He laughed. 

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

He nodded.

“Did you want to come in?  I’ll only be a minute,” I asked as I entered the kitchen and pulled out my favorite vase.

“I’ll wait here.  You are far too tempting, and I know how much you are looking forward to Maroni’s.”

“Suit yourself.  Speaking of which, that is one hell of a suit.  Really bringing your A-game tonight.”

“Lo, with you, I always bring my A-game.”

I finished arranging the flowers and set the vase on the dining table.

“Shall we?” I asked, excitement seeping into my words.

He offered me his arm, which I readily accepted, and wrapped his free hand on top of mine.

“Let’s hope it lives up to your expectations.  I’d hate to disappoint.”

“You haven’t yet…you’ve exceeded every expectation by miles.”

We drove to the quaint village of Northport and entered the small bistro-style eatery.  The décor was chic and modern, but still paid homage to the classic inspiration.  The restaurant had several claims to fame, including a traditional Italian meatball that beat Bobby Flay in a TV ‘Throwdown’.  What interested me the most was their menu, or lack thereof.  Diners tasted at least twenty bite-sized courses of the chef’s choosing.  Other than advising your server of any allergies or food restrictions, you sat back, shut up, and ate what they brought you.  Unlimited wine accompanied each tasting.  I loved food, all food, so this concept spoke directly to my foodie heart.

We were quickly seated and subsequently greeted by our friendly server.  After providing us both a glass of Chianti, he asked if there were any food allergies.

“I don’t eat seafood,” Griffin advised him sheepishly.

The waiter rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering, “There’s always one.”  He laughed and slapped Griffin on the back.  “Don’t worry, man, we’ll take care of you, but you’re missing out on some amazing food.”

We chatted easily throughout our first three courses, which included mushroom soup, Kobe beef sliders, and short ribs.  As the courses continued to flow from the kitchen, a few were unusual, such as the wild boar carpaccio, but most were an innovative twist on traditional dishes…the ordinary recreated as something more due to the quality of ingredients and culinary skills.

We talked for hours about trivial things like our favorite movies and music, as well as more revealing topics like families, goals for the future, and past relationships.  When discussing my dating history, he growled—a growl that was so clear even he could not deny it—when I mentioned Robbie.  Clearly, Griffin was less inclined to forgive my ex for his negligence in stopping the attacks at Hensley than I was—shocking, considering I wouldn’t be granting my forgiveness to Robbie until pigs flew through an ice-coated Hell. 

We had just been served our dessert and coffee—the quality of which would pass even Ev’s formidable standards—when the conversation turned to my last session with Thia.

“I’ve already completed most of my homework assignments from last session.  I still have to go to a movie alone before Thursday.  Part of the build-comfort-when-alone-in-public campaign.”

“What were your other assignments, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Because I’m so reserved I may not want to share the confidential details of my therapy session?”

“Point taken.  You never have been one to hold back; I like that.”

“I’ve been eating like a fiend,” I said while gesturing to the table.  “I even gained two pounds, which was one of my assignments.”

“Still have several more to put back on that beautiful body.”

I nodded, not taking offense to what was simply the truth.  Five more pounds and I would be at my normal, healthy weight.  Some might say I was ideal now, at least by fashion model standards.  I like that Griffin preferred my healthy look to the ‘someone get that girl a cheeseburger, stat’ most men sought.

“Oh, I’ve also been petting the kitty every night.  Not much success yet, but I’m getting closer to making her purr, I can feel it…pun intended.”

My timing was all wrong.  Griffin had just taken a sip of coffee as I shared my last homework assignment.  He came close to spraying the mouthful across the table, but ended up choking instead.  He coughed and sputtered for several minutes trying to clear the fluid from his airway and compose himself.

“Overshare?” I asked, my voice tinged with laughter.

“No, not at all.  Unexpected and ill-timed, perhaps,” he smiled, “but there is nothing you can’t tell me.  However, I am going to institute a rule that you give me warning before diving into talk of self-lovin’ when food and drinks are present.”

“Fair enough.”

“I know I am going to regret asking this here,” he said, more to himself than me, “but you haven’t had satisfactory results yet?”

“No,” I pouted.  “Thia said a lot of women take months before they can find the elusive O again.  I may kill myself if that’s the case.  I knew it would be a while before I would be physically, emotionally, or mentally prepared to do the featherbed jig—but to crash and burn when flying solo, that I was not prepared for.”

“Just give it time, it’ll come,” he paused, eyes wide.  “That was
not
an intentional pun.”

I was feeling mischievous after a little wine and a lot of great conversation.  “How can you be so sure she’ll come back?  She’s been gone so long—maybe she forgot the way home.”

Griffin groaned.  “You are not playing nice, Lo.  It’ll happen when you’re ready.  Sometimes the pressure of ‘trying,’ especially when it’s been a while, is the source of the problem.  When the time is right, and you can relax, forget everything, and lose yourself, you’ll fall off that cliff.”

Our conversation moved on to less salacious topics and before I knew it, we were in the car on the way back to my apartment.  I had offered to pay for dinner, but quickly dropped the matter when Griff shot me a look that said he was not to be argued with.  It was rare that he completely shut me down without conversation, so I let it go.  I didn’t know the specifics of his finances but The Stop had to be making money hand over fist, and he was wearing a custom D&G suit. 

It had been a spectacular night, the best date I’d ever had, and I wasn’t ready for it to end.  A rousing chorus of “I Could Have Danced All Night” from
My Fair Lady
was playing on repeat in my head.  When I was with Griffin I could relax; I knew instinctively that he would fall on a grenade to protect me.  I didn’t have to worry about my safety with my own personal bodyguard in tow.  But it was more than my physical well-being.  He looked after my emotional and mental state with equal care.  He was so in tune with my nonverbal cues that he steered us around dicey situations with ease.  That being said, he didn’t shy away from tough issues.  He confronted them head-on, without judgment, offering tenderness and support when I needed it.  He made me want to push myself to get better, not just for me, but for him too.

An intriguing idea fluttered through my consciousness.  Could I do it or would I ruin everything we had built thus far?  The prospect of losing him terrified me.  It was too early to use words like ‘love’ or ‘forever,’ regardless of what my crazy heart may have to say on the matter.  What the hell?  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  I needed to push my boundaries, stretch my comfort zone.

“Hey, Griff, I have a crazy idea, but I need your help.”

“That’s one hell of a lead in,” he said, making a small gesture with his hand for me to continue.

“I want to try something and it will probably blow up in my face, but I need to do it.  Will you help me?”

“We’re not having sex tonight, Lo.  No matter what you think, say, or do, it is not happening.  I have waited too long for this chance to fuck it up by jumping into bed before you’re ready.”

“Okay,” I drew out the word.  “That wasn’t where I was going, but good to know you have strong opinions on the matter.  When exactly will sex be permissible?”

“Are you ready to have sex right now?”

“No,” I said immediately.  I wanted him, he set me on fire every time I thought of him, but I wasn’t ready to dive headfirst into those shark-infested waters…yet.  I needed to ease back into intimacy with a man.  Not just any man…this man.

“Then there is no reason for us to discuss it right now.  Even discussing the possibility or a timeline will add unnecessary pressure.  It will happen when it happens—when the time is right.  When the time arrives, you will be so ready there will be no question or doubt in your mind—I promise you.”

“No sex tonight, we agree.  Will you help me if it doesn’t involve making the beast with two backs?”

“Yes.”

“I want to try sleeping with you, as in lying in bed with my head on your chest in the dark as we both sleep.  I honestly don’t know if I can handle it.  I may freak out or have a nightmare sometime during the night, but I want to try…with you.”

“Lo-baby, that I can do for you.  There is nothing I would love more than to have you in my arms all night.  If it doesn’t work, I’ll crash on the floor or the couch.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, suddenly struck by his level of devotion, his willingness to be what I needed.  “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t—you deserve so much better than me, but no one will ever care for you the way I do.  There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Then we will agree to disagree because I think you’re Mary-friggin-Poppins…practically perfect.”

“Just what every guy is dying to hear—I’m an umbrella-toting chick with a hat fetish,” he said.  “I’m not perfect.  I have my flaws, my weaknesses.  I’m human.”

“So you say.  I’m still convinced you have some tights and a cape hiding in your closet at home.”

“Nope, just a man.  No superpowers, and
definitely
no tights.”

We arrived at my apartment and headed upstairs, hand-in-hand.  When we entered, the apartment was quiet.  Ev and Hunter were already asleep.  Good, that would delay the inquisition until morning.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth.  Be right back,” I said.

Dang, I was nervous.  More nervous than my first time, and we were only sleeping together.  I brushed my teeth and removed my make-up before sneaking into my room to find pajamas.  I heard Griffin walk down the hall to the bathroom and smiled for no good reason.  I didn’t have a drawer full of flannel pants and t-shirts like most girls for my night wear.  I approached sleep attire with the same fashionista spirit I did my waking clothes.  I decided on a navy La Perla chemise with a coral lace appliqué that added interest and accentuated my waist.  The soft jersey knit was cut like a v-neck tank and fell to mid-thigh, covering me enough that it could be worn in public without being indecent.  It could pass as an easy spring dress or conservative beach cover-up, but knowing I was wearing it to bed—a bed Griffin was also going to be in—made it feel slightly scandalous.