Page 62 of Single-Minded
“I do,” I say.
We stay there dancing and talking for a while—maybe minutes, maybe hours. In his arms, I feel as though I’ve lost all sense of time.
We talk endlessly, about the projects I’m proudest of, what thrills me about environmental psychology, his favorite things about New Orleans, my favorite spots in Sarasota. He tells me about how his father lent him out to other famous New Orleans kitchens like Tujague’s, Brennan’s, and Commander’s Palace over the summers when he was a teenager, so that by the time he started college he had already worked with some of the best chefs in the country, including Emeril Lagasse and Paul Prudhomme.
“How was that experience? Was it intimidating?”
“Not really,” he says. “You have to remember that I grew up with these chefs. Their kids worked in my family’s restaurants, I worked in theirs. To me, they were like uncles. And having grown up in kitchens, there’s really no place I feel more comfortable.”
He pauses, then asks, “Do you want to take some dessert upstairs to the studio? Kick off your shoes, hang out on the couch?”
Taking my shoes off would feel great, but there’s no way I’d trust myself to be alone with Daniel twenty feet away from his bed. First, the Nate debacle has taught me to be more careful. Second, Daniel isn’t the subcontractor of a client, heismy client. At this point, my career is everything I have, the only thing in my life I have any control over, the only thing I can truly depend on. I need to tread very carefully, to take things slowly with Daniel rather than just rush right in.
“I promise to behave myself,” says Daniel.
“I can’t promise the same,” I say. “So I’d probably better go.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I smile, kissing him playfully. “Yes, I’msureI can’t promise to behave myself.” He grins in response and pulls me closer.
“We should definitely go upstairs,cher,” he says.
“I should definitely go home,” I say.
“If you must,” he says. “I understand. Mmmm… good night then.” His lips linger at my neck.
“Good night,” I say, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
He turns his head and kisses me on the lips, now more urgent than ever. Suddenly my fingers are stroking his hair; his arms are around my body, pushing me fervently against the deck railing as we kiss. The firm surface at my back and Daniel’s passionately insistent body pressing against me, and I can barely catch my breath. I don’t want to catch my breath.
My hands move down from his hair to his chest, and I snake one around his waist. I can feel the strong muscles in his back through his shirt, and I can barely stop myself from yanking up his shirt to touch his bare skin, something I’ve thought about near-constantly since I first saw him with his shirt off in this same spot we are now kissing. His breath is fast and heavy, matching my own. His warm fingers touch my skin where my back is exposed from my halter dress. His touch is addictively exquisite. I want to climb on top of him, straddle him, devour him.
“I should go,” I say breathlessly.
“Stay,cher,” he says. “Do you really need to leave?”
“I do,” I say. If I don’t leave now, I know I’ll be here all night. As much as I’ve fantasized about Daniel in every way possible, I know I’m not even remotely ready for that yet. It’s too soon, and I still don’t trust my own judgement.
“Okay,” he says. “I understand.” He brings my hand to his lips again and kisses it gently. “Until tomorrow, then.” His eyes never leave mine.
I nod and let my hands drop to my side. Gathering up my wrap and my clutch, I turn to look at him one last time before I go. He’s dashing and charming and clearly wants me. I have to be some sort of lunatic to leave him pining for me on the boat deck. What if tomorrow he just acts like nothing ever happened tonight, like everything is the same?
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I say, shaking the worrying thoughts from my mind.
“Thank you for being here tonight,” he says, his sensuous mouth smiling. “And for the dance.”
He walks me to my car, which I think is sweet. I’m glad for the company. Although the marina is well lit and in a safe area of town, I have no idea how late it is, and it’s never a good idea to be wandering around a parking lot alone in the middle of the night. As we reach my car, he leans down to kiss me on the cheek.
I should go home now, it’s already so late, but I lean upward to kiss him on those full, perfect lips once more. He kisses me back, gently, sweetly, at first and then hungrily, his firm body coaxing mine up against the door of my car. I kiss him back with ache and urgency, every nerve in my body on fire.
What is it about being kissed against a car or a wall that is so thrilling, so carnal? Is it the firmness of the wall against your back, while he urgently presses into your every curve? Is it the delicious feeling of touch on nearly every part of your body? Or is it that a wall is a vertical substitute for a bed, a steamy prelude for what’s to come?
At last, I tear myself away, my skin flushed and my heart thudding wildly.
Daniel looks at me with longing, but takes a step back, opening the door of my car for me. I toss my clutch inside, and get into the car.
He leans down so that we’re eye to eye, puts his hand to his heart, and taps his fingers on his chest like a heartbeat.
