“Yes. He’s picking me up at seven.”
“That’s absolutely wonderful. I knew there was a spark between you two at the Bradfords’ 4thof July party.”
I snorted. “The only spark between us at the party was when he accidentally caught my bathing suit cover-up on fire.”
If Preston was ever elected president, he would probably outdo Gerald Ford in the clumsy department. It had been far too early in the party for him to use the excuse of being drunk. Instead, he could only blame himself for tripping over a chair and collapsing on a table, which knocked off a candle that hit the hem of my long kaftan. The only reason I hadn’t entirely written him off that day was because of how sincere he was when heapologized and how kind he was by looking after me the rest of the party.
“For goodness sake, don’t mention that tonight. He gets enough teasing from his family about his clumsiness. The last thing he needs is to hear it from a date.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mother. You know, I do know how to carry on a meaningful conversation with a man. You do remember sending me to summer finishing school, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I just don’t want you saying or doing anything to turn him off. He’s already so accepting of the fact you plan to have a career.”
“Iwillhave a career,” I corrected.
My mother’s exasperated sigh told me she was maxed out with me being “petulant” in her eyes. “Yes, well, just have fun. Okay?”
“Thank you. I’ll try.”
“And let Daddy and I know how it went as soon as you can.”
“Mother, I’m twenty-four, not sixteen.”
“Annabel,” my mother’s voice raised an octave. “Just humor us, okay?”
“Fine, fine,” I muttered, feeling the beginning of the usual headache that accompanied talking to my mother.
“Goodbye then.”
“Goodbye.” I hung up and tossed the phone onto the seat.
After battling traffic across town to my apartment, I rushed inside to get ready. After a quick, hot shower I stood in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear. Normally a first date constituted something sexy, but in this case, I didn’t figure Preston and his overly conservative background would appreciate it. After deciding on a pair of jeans, a dressy green top, and heels, I’d just managed to finish with my makeup and hair when the doorbell rang.
When I threw open the door, Preston, appearing preppie and polished in a polo shirt and khakis, gave me a beaming smile. “Annabel, it’s so good to see you again.”
Returning his smile, I said, “It’s good seeing you again, too.”
His blue eyes surveyed me apprehensively. “You know after our first disastrous meeting at my parents’, I was afraid you might not want to ever be seen with me again.”
Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to wave my hand dismissively. I had to wonder how socially inept he was to even bring that up. “That was nothing. I’m glad to have a chance to get to know you better.”
Preston seemed to appreciate my well thought out answer. “Let’s go to dinner then. I was thinking Pacey’s.”
I was a little surprised at his choice, but I didn’t let my expression reflect it. Pacey’s was a college bar and hotspot right off campus. It didn’t exactly scream romance, but I guess it was a safe bet for a first date. “Sounds great.”
Once we got to Pacey’s, a waitress led us to a somewhat secluded booth. Just as I picked up my menu, a prickly sensation ran up my spine that someone was looking at me. When I glanced up at the bar, I locked eyes with a drop-dead good-looking guy.
His jet black hair was cut short, highlighting his chiseled jaw covered in scruff along with a pair of full, highly kissable lips. Even though he was sitting down, I could tell he was impossibly tall by the way his legs folded on the bar stool. His chest muscles bulged under the white T-shirt he wore.
Over the shirt was a leather vest of some kind. I had seen them before on television but never in person. It was definitely something bikers wore. Before I could stop myself, I licked my lips. My reaction caused a sexy grin to stretch across his face. When he winked at me, I quickly ducked my head and went back to examining my menu.
“What sounds good?” Preston asked. And it was then I had the reality check that I was ogling some strange man not five feet from the man I was out on a date with. I vowed then and there to keep my attention on my date.
But as soon as the appetizer came and conversation between us became stilted, I found my gaze returning to the stranger at the bar. Each time I looked at him, he was looking at me. The more I took in his bad boy appearance, the more I couldn’t help thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.
When it came to men, I’d always played it safe. I’d dated the good guys—the future husband types. But deep down, I’d never really been satisfied by those types. The number of sexual partners I’d had could be counted on one hand--and none of them had ever made me lose my mind in the bedroom. The one thing I fantasized about what having one uninhibited sexual experience so that in years to come, I could look back on it with a blush on my cheeks and a rush of warmth between my legs.
As dinner progressed on, I realized Preston would never be the one to deliver that mind-altering sexual experience. So I was more than a little relieved when the waitress delivered our check.
