I’m back in Somerset by seven, and I’m very pleased to find an Amazon package on my porch. Yesterday afternoon, I remembered that none of my sexy lingerie fit, so I went online. Thank goodness for next-day delivery.
I pull a lacy black bra and panties out of the padded envelope and run them through my fingers. It’s not La Perla, but it’s better than the plain Jane white cotton I’ve been wearing for the past few months. Best of all, it will fit me.
I put on a Michael Bublé playlist and jump in the shower, then carefully blow my hair dry. Spritz on a little of my favorite perfume (citrus with a hint of spice). The new underwear set fits like a dream, and my old little black dress has enough stretch to be comfortable.
By the time the doorbell rings, I’m feverish with anticipation, and when I open the door, Luke looks even betterthan I imagined. He’s dressed up a little, in a black wool coat over a dark gray button-down shirt and black pants.
His hazel gaze sweeps over my little black dress, and his eyes widen in appreciation. “You look spectacular, Milly.”
“Thanks.” It comes out a little hoarse, because all of a sudden I’m nervous. It’s irrational; this isLuke, not some stranger taking me on a first date. I slept with him last weekend, for heaven’s sake.
But rational or not, the butterflies in my stomach have taken flight.
I shrug on a coat, and Luke leads me out to his car.
“Where are we going?” I ask, as he pulls out onto the road.
The corner of his mouth hitches up. “Promise you won’t text your mother?” he teases. “I was hoping to have you to myself, and I only booked a table for two.”
“Of course I won’t tell my mother,” I say with dignity. “But I don’t think she’d try to follow me again. I told her she needed to give me some space.”
“Really?”
“Uh huh.”
“And you think you got through to her?” Luke’s voice is tinged with amusement.
“Yeah, I think so. This was on Monday, and we haven’t spoken since.”
Luke must sense I’m unhappy about the situation, because when he answers, he isn’t teasing anymore. “She’ll get over it, Melissa. She probably just needs a little time.”
“I guess so. Anyway, it had to be done.”
“Sure did,” he agrees as he brakes at a red light. “We’re going toBuona Notte.”
“Really?” I breathe.
“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “You up for Italian?”
“I’m always up for Italian.” I’ve never been toBuonaNotte, but it’s rumored to be one of the best restaurants in Somerset. It’s also supposedly very expensive, the sort of place you’d take a partner for a special birthday or anniversary. A place you’d go if you had something to celebrate.
Luke takes my hand as we walk from the car to the restaurant, and keeps hold of it as we wait for the maître d’. It’s definitely a date night place, small and intimate, with candles on the tables and soft opera in the background. It smells of fresh bread and tomatoes; basically, like heaven.
My stomach growls, and it sounds unnaturally loud. “I’m sorry,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat.
But Luke just winks. “Glad you came hungry.”
And the restaurant lives up to its reputation. As soon as we sit down, a waiter brings us fresh bread with garlic butter, and it’s the most delicious thing I’ve eaten all month. There’s fried calamari, then lamb ravioli, then Luke convinces me to share an order of tiramisu for dessert. It’s all washed down with good red wine, but we both stop after one glass. Luke’s driving, and I want to remember tonight.
I’m feeling very happy by the time we leave the restaurant. I’ve blown my diet for the week, but it was entirely worth it. I’m pleasantly full, a little buzzed from the wine, and I’m ready to take Luke home and show him my new underwear.
“You smell delicious,” I tell him, as soon as we’re back in the car. “All musky and manly.”
He looks at me suspiciously. “Please tell me you’re not drunk.”
“Nope. Not drunk. I only had one glass of wine, remember?”
What I am, though, is practically delirious with lust. Ireach across the center console and rest my hand on Luke’s thigh.
