Page 63 of To Belong Together
She put her hands on the dress-endowed hips and cocked her head. The style may have been intended for business settings, but a little black dress worked at any event, right? Though most little black dresses were probably … littler.
But why try to show off cleavage or curves she didn’t have?
Because she wanted John to like her.
But not for her body.
Well …
Blushing, she brushed her fingers through her hair, untangling some of her short waves.
What if, after all of this, he wasn’t interested?
In his line of work, beautiful women must throw themselves at him at every opportunity. If she couldn’t compete with her high school classmates, she certainly couldn’t keep up with models and groupies. Eventually, he’d get bored and cut ties.
A knock sounded at her door.
Throat tight, she turned from the mirror to check the peephole. The tiny glass distorted John’s image, but the dark spot that remained of his bruises showed.
Right. This wasn’t exactly a fairytale on either side. The difference was, his injuries would heal, and she’d never be curvy or eradicate the grease stains under her nails. However, despite her insecurities, she’d labeled this a date. No backing out now.
She opened the door.
His hair was damp and combed away from his face. His slim-fitting winter jacket revealed the collar of a white button-down, and he wore navy pants and brown dress shoes. Someday, the scar along his eyebrow would turn white, but for now, it remained pink. His crisp blue eyes focused on her. “You clean up nice.”
Not exactly the bowled-over reaction she would’ve chosen, but at least it was a compliment.
“Same to you.” She moved to join him in the hall.
He raised a hand to stop her. “No coat?”
“All I have is the sweatshirt.”
He unzipped his jacket, shrugged his right arm out of it, then worked the sleeve over the cast on his left. “This is why I went with a vest. No suit jacket that fit made it over the cast.”
He wouldn’t get complaints from Erin. The vest did him nothing but favors, accenting the narrow cut of his waist and the fantastic angle to his shoulders. He’d foregone a tie and left the shirt’s top two buttons undone. A small, curved line with a circle on the end, the edge of a tattoo, showed on his chest. Given only that fraction of an inch, the full design remained a mystery, and she certainly couldn’t ask him to unbutton the shirt farther to show her what it was.
Finally free of the coat, he held it open to her. “Just don’t lose the tie in the pocket. Depending on how serious Kate is about the dress code, I might need it.”
“Either way, you need the coat. You’ll be cold.” And after observing him so closely, she was not.
“The restaurant’s two blocks from here, and the car’s already warm.” He stepped behind her. “I insist.”
She gave in, and he slid the jacket on her, enveloping her in his warmth. The coat wouldn’t smell better if they were sitting at a campfire in the forest.
He offered her his arm as she stepped into the hall. She lay her fingers on the inside of his forearm, below the sleeve he’d rolled to his elbow and on the tops of the pine trees tattooed there. Sure enough, his skin was warm, and no signs remained of the shaking she’d observed after the incident on the highway. As they walked toward the elevator, she eyed him, wondering how driving had gone after he’d left her here to get ready while he’d changed clothes at his parents’ house.
He caught her watching and offered another smile. “I hope you’re not regretting this.”
“Why would I?”
“You’re wearing heels, for one.”
Did that mean he didn’t think they were worth the effort? Didn’t like them?
“Two, you’re about to meet my landmine of a family.”
They weren’t that much of a landmine—she’d rather talk about them than her choice in footwear. “I’ll be fine. People tend to be nice to strangers. It’s the ones we know who take the brunt of our true nature, so you’re the one who has to look out.”
