Old Enough To Know Better. Vicki Lewis ThompsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
sit there silently and let him suffer. He’d bought her a can of root beer from the pop machine and rounded up a straw so she could drink it without moving her lips.
And then he’d sent the flowers the next day, pink, red and white carnations mixed in with baby’s breath and lacy ferns. She knew now that it hadn’t been an expensive bouquet, but because it was her first ever, she’d never forgotten how it had looked or how amazed she’d been when her mother had called her to the door to sign for the delivery. Come to think of it, the vase, her only one, was tucked into a cupboard in her apartment kitchen. She’d taken it when she’d moved away from home.
If he’d been that sweet at eighteen, he could be a wonderful lover with all the experience he’d surely collected since then. But she wouldn’t be finding out. Way too risky. Once she’d made him drool, she was outta there and on to her regularly scheduled dating program.
She thought her outfit would be a good start. Alicia would approve of the slip dress, the high-heeled slides, the braided leather jewelry and the upswept hairdo. Sam would never connect her with the kid he’d wrestled with in the pool all those years ago.
Pacing her apartment, she reminded herself that she couldn’t be too enthusiastic about the Tin Tarantulas, either. Even though she’d loved their music the one time she’d heard them play, they definitely appealed to the college crowd more than young professionals. And she was a young professional now. She should act slightly bored.
Maybe she needed to practice her slightly bored expression. After returning to her bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and tried out a sigh and an upward roll of her eyes. Yeah, that was good. A world-weary, tolerant smile, perhaps. Excellent.
Her doorbell rang, and she yelped softly. World-weary disappeared as her heart pumped faster and her palms grew sweaty. Sam Ashton had arrived to take her out for the evening. How amazing was that?
She dried her shaking hands on a towel, took one last glance at her flushed cheeks, and decided she’d have to work on her bored expression later. Right now she looked and felt exactly like that little kid who’d received her first bouquet of flowers twelve years ago.
3
SAM STOOD at Kasey’s door holding a dozen first-cut red roses in a cone of green tissue paper. In his early and poor-guy dating years he’d gone for the bargain roses, not understanding that those had been trimmed at least three times and wouldn’t last more than a few days. First-cut lasted much longer, long enough to make a real impression.
That’s what Sam intended to do. He had a gut feeling about this woman. Although he’d be hard-pressed to explain why she seemed so right for him, he was letting his instincts dictate his actions. Thus the pricey roses on the first date. He wanted to let her know he wasn’t kidding around.
When she opened the door and he got a look at her red slip dress and take-me-now shoes, he was doubly glad he’d brought the first-class roses. A woman who looked like Kasey Braddock had seen her share of bouquets, and he wanted his to stand out from the crowd.
“Hi,” she said. “Wow, roses.”
“And I’m sure glad I picked red.” He handed her the bouquet. If she was used to getting flowers, she didn’t let on. “I’m guessing it’s your favorite color.”
“It’s my new favorite color. Come in and I’ll find a vase for these.”
“It should be your favorite color.” He stepped inside the door. “You look terrific in it.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a quick smile. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He nodded, although he had no intention of sitting down. He’d be able to get a better view of her apartment if he stood right where he was.
What he saw surprised him a little. It looked like a college pad instead of a career girl’s place. Makeshift bookcases of bricks and boards overflowed with paperbacks, hardbacks and what looked like textbooks. A futon took the place of a regular couch, and over it hung posters from various art galleries. The women he’d dated recently had graduated to real furniture and professionally framed prints.
The place was neat enough, but it didn’t look as if she’d spent lots of time thinking about decorating. One scraggly pothos in dire need of repotting hung from a hook in the ceiling, and the coffee table looked like a hand-me-down from her parents.
Okay, so she wasn’t domestic, wasn’t into nest-building. Was that such a problem? Reluctantly he admitted it might be. Nest-building instincts ranked pretty high on his list these days.
Then she walked back into the room holding the flowers, her cheeks flushed and the rosebuds a perfect match for her lipstick, and he forgot about his nest-building requirements. Hell, if this turned into something wonderful, he could build the damned nest. Roles were changing more every day. So what if she didn’t own a decent crystal vase and had plunked his roses in a cheap glass one that looked like it had been stashed in a cupboard for years.
“Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.” From her expression, anyone would think he’d given her diamonds.
He found her enthusiasm sexy. Maybe she didn’t bother decorating her apartment or buying crystal because she had too many other exciting things in her life, like asking a complete stranger to have dinner with her.
“Okay.” She set the vase of flowers on the coffee table and scooped up a small purse from the futon. “I’m ready.”
He thought of her license plate. Yep, her vibrant approach to life really turned him on. “Then let’s go.”
HALFWAY THROUGH THE MEAL, Kasey congratulated herself on how well she was doing. Probably because the restaurant was upscale, the waiter hadn’t carded her when Sam had ordered a bottle of red to go with the pasta. She was relieved about that. Although she had the fake ID, she didn’t want to use it more than necessary, in case somebody spotted it as bogus.
As per her plan, she’d steered the conversation so they talked about Sam. During the antipasto, she’d confirmed what she already knew, that his family had moved to Oregon right after his senior year in high school. He’d gone to college up there but never could get used to the weather, so he’d decided to come back to Phoenix to build his landscaping business.
With a little prompting, she got him to talk about his business during the main course. She didn’t blame him for being proud of what he’d accomplished, creating a thriving enterprise during tough economic times. Besides, she liked listening to him. There was a sexy, husky sound to his voice that hadn’t been there when he was eighteen.
“The tree you worked on today looks amazing,” she said. “Like a sculpture. How did you learn to do that?”
He put down his wineglass and gazed across the table at her, a little smile on his face. “Oh, I’ve had a lot of practice. Besides, it’s fun. I like climbing trees. It’s probably not much different from you designing a PR campaign. How do you go about that, by the way?”
Although it was an innocent enough question, she pegged it as an attempt to switch the topic to her. “Trust me, it’s not half as interesting as what you do. So, what’s the biggest landscaping challenge you’ve ever had?”
He grinned at her. “I’m beginning to think you’ve dated a bunch of egomaniacs.”
“Why?”
“Oh, just the way you’ve made sure we talked about me all the time. Maybe the other guys wanted to bask in that constant limelight, but I’d love to hear something about you.”
“I’m… I’m not all that fascinating.” It was a truthful statement. She was hoping to become fascinating, but that would require more seasoning. He was to be part of the process, although he didn’t know that.
“Come on. A woman who drives a red convertible with such an interesting license plate?”
So here was the fatal flaw