Risk Taker Page 8

He dismissed me at the restaurant, but I won’t let him ignore me now.

  He walks me to my door like he’s walking to a hanging—his. Before he can turn around and leave, I drop the box and pull him to me for a kiss. I give him everything I have to offer in that kiss; my loyalty, affection, and maybe a piece of my heart.

  He doesn’t respond at first, but as I part his lips with my tongue, he gives in and kisses me in return. His passion pours into me, and I have no doubt that he feels something for me.

  “I care about you,” I whisper against his neck as I settle into a hug.

  “You shouldn’t.” He gently pushes away until our eyes connect. “I’m not good for you.”

  “Let’s take it one kiss at a time, okay?”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at the ground like an uncertain kid. “I’ll see you Saturday at six.”

  I pick up the box, close the door behind me, and watch him walk to his car and drive away.

  “What’s in the box?”

  I jump several inches at Em’s voice.

  “Shit, Em! You scared the living daylights out of me.”

  She looks out the window at Damon’s fading taillights. “I see things are moving forward with Mr. Noble. That was quite a kiss on the porch.”

  “Were you spying on us?”

  She was because Em doesn’t like to be the last to know about anything.

  “How else am I going to find out what’s going on around here?”

  I move to the couch and set the box on the cushions. “You could stay home occasionally, and then you’d have the 411.”

  She reaches for the box top and flips the lid off. We both look at the ice-blue gown carefully placed within the tissue. I pull it out and let it unfold. It has a round scoop neck and beading that goes all the way to the floor with a slit that rises to mid-thigh. The color is familiar, it’s the same as Damon’s eyes.

  “Did he buy you this dress?”

  I hold it up to me and turn around. The beaded fabric feels heavy in my hands, but it’s too beautiful to put down.

  “No, his mother picked it out and thought it would look nice on me. I’m attending the Philharmonic on Saturday with them to pay tribute to Roman.”

  “Hmm. Now you’re dining with the parent. Wow, you move fast.” She touches the scarf hanging around my neck. “Where did you get this?”

  “Don’t you miss anything?”

  “Nope, but I can figure out the connection. First, it’s the book, then the scarf. It sounds kinky.”

  A shiver runs up my spine. “You have no idea.”

  “I might,” she says. “Listen, Anthony and I are going to Catalina on Friday, and we’ll be gone until Sunday. I worried you might get lonely, but now that I know you’ll be with Damon, I feel better about leaving.”

  “Even if I didn’t have plans, I’d be all right. This is my last weekend at Java Joes, so things won’t be so crazy.” I set the dress back into the box and run my fingers down the beads. “How are things going with Anthony?”

  A big smile spreads across her face. “It’s almost too good to be true. Things are dreamlike. What about you and Damon?”

  “Damon is … complicated. He’s convinced he’s bad for me, and he keeps cautioning me, but I see something good in him.”

  “Just be careful, okay? If someone likes you enough to caution you about themselves, you should at least consider their warnings.”

  “I will.”

  I give her a big hug and take the dress to my room.

  I feel like Cinderella on her way to the ball.

  Chapter Eleven

  Thursday and Friday pass without a word from Damon, but it’s no surprise with the way he acted the other night.

  One minute he’s playful, and the next minute he’s distant. I don’t understand what to make of it, so I let him have his space. Not knowing if he’s still picking me up for the concert, I send him a quick text.

  Are we still on for tomorrow? I need to know if I should make other arrangements for transportation.

  Within seconds he texts back, confirming he’ll arrive at six. That was it. Just a verification. No hello. No how are you? Nothing.

  Saturday zooms past, and I rush home after work to shower. I have less than an hour to put myself together. Just as I’m applying my lipstick, the doorbell rings. I hop on one foot to the door, trying to put my other heel on, on the way. When I open the door, Damon is there looking delicious in his tuxedo. It’s hard to stay upset with him when he takes my breath away.

  Calm down, heart.

  I take a few deep breaths and regain my composure. “I’m almost done. Come in. Let me get my bag, put on my earrings, and I’ll be ready.”

  He steps through the door and waits while I rush around, looking for Emma’s silver shawl. I find it on my dresser and wrap it around my shoulders before rushing back to the living room.

  “You look stunning,” he says. “The color and fit are perfect on you.”

  “I wonder how your mom knew.”

  “It must be a girl thing.” His eyes smile like he has a secret. Offering his arm, we walk to the waiting limousine.

  A sense of déjà vu washes over me. Was is only weeks ago that I sat in this same limousine with him? He’s in the same place, staring at the slit of my dress as it rises up my thigh.

  “You must have had a busy week.” I don’t want to pry, but I’d like to know why he didn’t call. His silence for the past two days feels like a punishment.

  “Things are always busy,” he says.

  He’s pulling away from me, and my heart aches. My hope was he’d see me in this beautiful dress and want to hug or kiss me, but he didn’t.

  He sits stiffly in the seat across from me and stares at my legs until we reach the venue, and the driver opens the door.

  People surround Rose, but she notices our arrival and waves us over. Being the gentleman his mother raised, Damon guides me to her before stepping away.

  With a look of satisfaction, Rose announces I’m perfectly dressed for the event.

  “Where did you get that dress? It’s beautiful.”

  “Damon said you sent it.” I look over my shoulder to find him, but he’s not there.

  “It’s not from me. He must have picked it out.” She touches the beading at my shoulder. “He has impeccable taste, don’t you think?” She smiles with pride.

  “You raised him well.” Shock addles my brain. What’s the deal with him? He buys me this amazing dress and then keeps his distance. I don’t understand what message he’s trying to send. Does he want to be with me or not?

  He walks up with two glasses of champagne.

  I lean in and whisper, “Thanks for the dress. It’s beautiful.”

  He smiles warmly and whispers back, “No one but you could wear that dress. It was made for you.”

  I’m touched by the sincerity in his voice but confused by his immediate disappearance into the crowd.

  I sip my champagne and mingle with Rose. A handsome gentleman approaches, and Rose introduces him as Russell, an anesthesiologist at the hospital where she works. Russell lifts my hand and places a lingering kiss there. Embarrassed, I tug it back and turn away.

  Off to my right, Damon stands with a scowl intimidating enough to scare the devil himself. He looks at Russel and then at me before he walks away—again.

  Rose does her best to introduce me to every sexy, single, and successful man in the room like she’s trying to set me up, while Damon just stands at the perimeter looking apoplectic.

  “All this attention you’re getting isn’t sitting well with my son.”

  I feel his penetrating eyes on me. The heat from his fiery gaze is like lava on my skin. “I don’t think he cares.” I lie.

  “Oh, he cares, and this will teach him to not leave you alone.” Rose bursts into a fit of laughter as she moves toward their private box. “Something rare is always desired, but it’s the smart man who claims it first. Let’s see if tonight puts a fl
ame under my son’s ass.” She takes another look at Damon and snickers. “Shall we, Katarina?”

  Rose is not someone I want to anger because she doesn’t play fair.

  The performance is wonderful, the company is lovely, and my champagne glass is never empty. During the intermission, Damon broods in the back of the box while his mother occupies me every minute.

  When it’s time to leave, I realize I’m drunk. Rose and I giggle as we totter our way to waiting cars. Damon climbs into the car next to me, and I immediately reach for a glass and the decanter of wine.

  “Do you think you should drink more, Katarina?” The sarcasm drips from his voice.

  “Oh, you speak?” I lift the decanter into the air. “I probably shouldn’t drink more, but I will because what could have been the best night of my life, got ruined by you.” I fill my glass full and lean over to slurp the top so that I don’t spill.

  “Me? Do you think you could have talked to any more men? You made it through the whole audience. All that was left was the orchestra, and given enough time, I’m sure you would have charmed them too.”

  “I talked to others because you didn’t talk to me.” I take a big gulp of wine. “What does it matter, anyway? I don’t belong to you. You don’t date, and a man who doesn’t date can’t claim a woman.” I toss back my glass of wine and pour another. “What’s wrong with me? Am I so awful you can’t stand to be near me?”

  He leans back and rubs his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re perfect. If I could give you what you needed, I’d sweep you up and keep you, but I’ll never be that man.”

  “Can’t, or won’t? There’s a difference,” I say coldly.

  He sits in silence and watches me toss back two more glasses.

  I barely register the car stopping and Damon telling the driver to wait. My body moves, but I don’t know how. Cool air brushes my face when I get outside. My feet don’t hit the ground, which means I’m in Damon’s arms.

  I trace his lips with my finger. “Your lips are mind-blowing. You don’t know what they do to me, but when we kiss, my body erupts.” My words slur, but he hears me. “I had big dreams for you, buddy, but you’re impossible,” I poke at the knot of his tie. “I could love you, but you keep pushing me away. Tonight, I wanted to climb into your lap and have you hold me.” Sighing, I continue. “But you couldn’t get far enough away from me. I know in my heart you’d be worth the effort. Too bad you don’t see your potential.” My head flops to his shoulder. “The girl who wins your heart will be the luckiest girl in the world.”

  My head spins, or maybe the room spins. Either way, I close my eyes, and the last recollection I have is him kissing my lips and telling me I’d have won his heart if he had one to give.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, I wake to my alarm and a massive headache. The last thing I remember was leaving the concert. I was furious with Damon, but everything after I entered the car is vague.

  I’m not sure how I got into my house or undressed and into my bed. I had to be in better shape than I thought because my dress hangs nicely in the closet, and my shoes and jewelry are in their place.

  Needing to quell the headache, I drag myself to the kitchen, and on the table sits a note with two aspirin and a glass of water.

  Sorry,

  Damon

  In a flash, it all comes back.

  The ride.

  The wine.

  My confession of love.

  Things are unclear after that, but deep down, I know he undressed me and tucked me into bed.

  I press my hands to my aching head and moan. I need time to get over this headache and the regrets that come with it, but I have to suffer through it to complete my final day at Java Joes.

  When I get home, I’ll climb in bed and stay there until Monday morning.

  A morning huddle with Trevor starts the week before I chain myself to my desk to work on the gift bags. The watches I worked on getting are now a guarantee. So far, the gifts range from spa days to Cristal Champagne. I wait for word on the chocolates and silk scarves I requested.

  Thoughts of silk scarves bring Damon to mind.

  Redirecting my musings, I inventory the things I received. There are bags, books, videos, CDs, watches, hotel stays, Anthony Haywood gift certificates, and so much more. The value sits at close to six thousand dollars for each bag, but I’m reaching for ten.

  Trevor walks to my cubicle and asks me to follow him upstairs for a company meeting. On the tenth floor, human resources is giving a safety seminar.

  We file into the large room where at least three hundred people sit waiting. I find a space in the least conspicuous place and focus on the seminar about network security. It lasts less than thirty minutes and bores the staff to death. I half expect to see Damon, but relief floods through me when I don’t.

  After the meeting, Trevor gathers the team and invites us to a working lunch. We crowd into the elevator and hit the first floor in seconds.

  The doors slide open, and Damon’s voice bounces off the walls of the lobby. I hear him before I see him. There’s no avoiding him. As he steps into the elevator, I exit it.

  “Kat?” He stands in front of the door so it can’t close. “What are you doing here?” Concern colors his voice. “Is everything okay?”

  I call ahead to my group and tell them I’ll catch up.

  With a smile that sits like an imposter on my face, I say, “I work here. I took your advice and applied for the internship.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to do it on my own. Besides, you haven’t been talkative lately.” My coworkers walk out of the building. “Gotta go, people are waiting for me.” I dash after them to catch up with Trevor and the others.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I tell Trevor.

  “How do you know Mr. Noble?” He lifts a quizzical brow.

  How do I explain my relationship with Damon? Without a clue, I divulge as little as possible. “We were in a book club together, but he quit because of a conflict.”

  “I don’t see Damon Noble as a book club kind of guy. What books do you read in this club?”

  This is like a college exam I didn’t study for. “Mostly books on The New York Times Best Sellers list.” I change the subject to avoid further discussion. “Where are we having lunch? I’m starving.”

  “There’s a diner down the street that has the best burgers in town.”

  We spend an hour eating and discussing the grand opening while I gobble up something called a black and blue burger.

  Once the lunch meeting concludes, we head back to Noble Enterprises.

  As soon as I arrive at my cubicle, my phone rings and Greta asks me to come to Damon’s office. It’s not a surprise since I didn’t give him a chance to react to my presence.

  Greta greets me with a smile. “Hello, Ms. Cross. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Mr. Noble is waiting for you.”

  She raps twice on the door and opens it a crack. There’s a murmur from inside, and the door swings wide open.

  “Thanks, Greta,” I cautiously walk into his lair. That’s the only description that comes to mind because, at the moment, I feel like a mouse entering a lion’s cage.

  “Come in, Kat, and have a seat.” He waves toward the couch. “I’ll be with you shortly.” He nods to a tray with soda. “Help yourself to a drink.” He stares at a pile of papers. He does nothing to them but stare. He’s stalling. He asked me here but doesn’t know what to do with me now that I arrived.

  I break the ice. “Thanks for the aspirin and water.” My head falls in shame. “I made an ass out of myself, and I’m embarrassed.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, Kat.” He grimaces as he says my nickname. “Oh, hell, I hate calling you that name. It’s almost painful.”

  I want to laugh, but this isn’t a laughing matter. “It’s not my intention to cause you pain.”

  He looks up with eyes full of despair. I don’t k
now what’s going on in his head, but I want to pull him close to me and comfort him.

  “I’m in pain every moment I can’t have you in my arms. It kills me every night I can’t hear your voice,” he confesses. “I’m a jealous fool. I can’t have you, but I don’t want anyone else to have you either. I’m a complete asshole.” He grabs the sides of his head and runs both hands through his hair.

  “Damon, you can have me. All you need to do is ask. I’ve been yours since the day I took your arm and you walked me to the limousine. There isn’t a minute I don’t think about you.” I stare into his glacial eyes and see them melt before me. “I sleep with that silk scarf like it can magically make you appear. I haven’t put that beautiful dress away, because looking at it makes me feel closer to you.”

  We stand, and step by step, we close the gap until I’m in front of him with my face pressed against his chest. I can’t contain my emotions and tears run down my cheeks.

  Strong arms hug me tightly.

  “I have no right to you,” he says. “I did everything to get you to stay away. I’ve even been cruel at times.”

  “Stop. You’ve mostly been kind and generous and always noble. You took me home Saturday and put me safely to bed. I was in a vulnerable position, and you acted like a gentleman. Your mom would be proud.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m on unfamiliar ground, and I don’t know how to act.”

  “Kiss me. Let me in. Let me love you.” I reach up and place my palm on his cheek.

  He leans into my touch. “I don’t know if I can. I want to feel your love, but I don’t know where to start.”

  I pull him to the couch and frame his face with my hands. “We start small and work on this together, one step at a time.”

  “One kiss at a time.” He presses his lips to mine before walking to the door and talking to Greta. When he returns, he resumes kissing me. I don’t know how much time passed, but the sun sits low in the sky when we come up for air. My lips are chapped, and my jaw is tired, but I’m happy.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asks.