He interrupts just as I am about to turn him down. “I’m taking a potential new client out to dinner, and I’d love to have someone on my side, er, at my side.”
“Gill could go with you.”
He chuckles in that damned sexy voice. “He refuses to wear a dress.”
I giggle as I picture Gill in a dress—it’s true he’s tall and quite handsome. “He’s got the long hair to pull it off, but his five o’clock shadow may clash with a dress.”
He laughs again and asks, “So? Will you go to dinner with me? I really hate these meetings where I’m supposed to be smooth. I’m not a salesperson.” He’s laying it on pretty thick—but I can identify with his assertion that he’s not really smooth. He sure hasn’t been smooth with me.
I sigh, feeling myself weaken. “Just dinner?”
“Just dinner. I promise.”
I’m kind of freaked out. I don’t really know how I feel. It could be his way of breaking off things gently—friend-zoning me. Ah well, I guess if I’m getting my heart broken, I’ll meet it head-on. “Okay, I’ll go. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at six. We’re having drinks at six thirty and dinner afterward. Does that sound good?”
“Sure. I’ll be ready.”
“Thank you, MacKenzie.”
“No problem.” Yep. Friend-zoned. This is definitely going to suck.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
A TOTAL MISCALCULATION
I arriveat her place twenty minutes early. I’ve got a surprise for her, and I want some time after I give it to her so she can thank me—if you know what I mean. Not that twenty minutes is sufficient time for a Sam encounter—it’s really not. It might be a bad idea to show up early since women need time to get ready, to do all that stuff they do—even if I have no idea what stuff a woman does to get ready. But I think I’ll risk it since I’m feeling pretty good. And if twenty minutes is all we have for a proper thank-you, we’ll make it work.
As I follow the walk around the house, I check the security. The motion detection lights on the east side of the house flash on as I approach them. “Good.” That makes me feel a little better about her safety, even in this shitty neighborhood. Walking a few more feet, I see that the light illuminates the entire backyard. The new security door is gray and looks impenetrable. It’s not, but it should dissuade 99 percent of the criminal element to leave it alone and try some other place to invade. The high-tech locking mechanism would need an expert to breach it.
I knock on the door three times and wait. I hear nothing, so I knock again. This time I hear a frustrated little grunt and theclicks of the disengaging locks. It’s going to take her time to get used to them. I wait patiently, holding the box.
When she opens the door, I blink stupidly at her. She looks stunning in a bright blue dress that doesn’t exactly match her blue eyes, but the deep color enhances them. Her dark red hair is up, off her neck. Several braids on either side of her head intertwine and meet at the back of her head. Her lips are glossy red; her makeup is soft and natural. She’s still barefoot, but I imagine that final addition will be a pair of stilettos—and that thought causes a twitch below my belt. I take a deep breath—she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
Trying to keep it cool, I smile and say, “You look nice.” I feel a surge of my signature magic power with the ladies and I grace her with one of my cocky smiles. Yeah, Sam Stone is back. I knew I’d finally kicked whatever bug I had when I woke up this morning with a skip in my step.
“Thanks. You look nice, too.”
I’m wearing a finely tailored Hugo Boss suit. It used to fit a bit better. It’s a little snug tonight. I need to get back to my workouts. I notice that MacKenzie is staring at me. Shit, I forgot the box in my hand. I can hardly wait to give it to her; she is gonna love it. And she’s going to besograteful.
“Here.” I hold the box out to her. “I bought you something.”Here? I bought you something?I sounded like a six-year-old giving his mommy a present. Geez, what happened to my swagger?
“What? Why?” she asks, looking adorably confused.
“Because I wanted to.” I push the box gently toward her.
“Sam, you’ve already spent so much for all this security stuff… the door. I’m never going to be able to repay you. I?—”
“Just open it. I saw it in the window and thought you needed it.” I smile brightly. Geez, still in the six-year-old with his mommy mode.
Sighing, she takes the box from my hands and turns to go down the steps. She sets the box on a table and unties the plaid ribbon. Lifting off the top, she sets it aside, pulls the tissue away, and blinks. Her face turns pink.
“It’s a coat,” I announce with pride. “With a matching hat and gloves.” I wince.Still sounding like a six-year-old, Stone.
“I see that,” she says. She looks up at me, and the expression in her eyes is icy. I can’t help noticing how rigid she looks; she appears about six inches taller than she really is. Coldly, she asks, “Why? Why did you get me a coat?”
“Because you needed one.” She did. It’s time for the dumpster for that old one.
