Boy, had he changed. Still, he was going to have to be careful to respect her space and her privacy. They lived in the same building. It didn’t mean they lived together.

  So he went up to his place and started preparing dinner, forcing himself not to wonder what Kate was doing one floor below. Obviously, she was either practicing the same restraint, or not feeling the same pull to him, for he heard nothing from her until she knocked on his door at five o’clock, the appointed time for their date.

  He headed for the door and noticed his glasses sitting on the table. He hesitated, then resolutely pushed them back into the plastic case and tucked them in a drawer. Maybe he could take off his disguise a little at a time, let her do her makeover.

  When he answered the door, his jaw dropped. He felt the damn thing actually fall away, dragging his chin down to his navel.

  He’d always thought Kate was gorgeous, but she absolutely knocked his socks off in a skimpy little halter dress that loved her body so much it clung to every curve.

  “If I were a piece of clothing, I would want to be that dress,” he said when he got his voice back.

  “You don’t think it’s too short?” She glanced down. They both did, at her long, slim legs, miles of which showed beneath the short hem.

  “That dress is far too short to wear anywhere else. For here, it’s perfect.”

  She’d done her hair up on her head, with a few escapee curls around her face, and she was wearing the earrings he’d given her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. In her hand she held a bunch of summer daisies.

  She was smiling at him in a way that told him she knew she’d knocked him out. She handed him the flowers. “I wasn’t sure what to bring. But men never think of flowers.”

  He chuckled. She was right. He’d planned food, wine, even picked up a couple of new CDs he thought Kate might like. Hadn’t given a thought to flowers for the table. “Thanks.”

  “You look pretty good yourself,” she said, running her hands over his chest. “This is a new shirt.”

  In fact, it was a Darren shirt. One of the few items of clothing that were predisguise. Little by little he’d peel off the layers of his disguise. Ease her into the truth. It was the best idea he’d been able to come up with.

  “Lady, if you want to eat, you’d better get your hands off me now,” he ordered.

  She pulled her hands back in mock surrender, holding them high. “Okay, I’m starving.” She sniffed the air appreciatively.

  “Sit down and I’ll bring you some champagne.”

  He eased the cork out until the bottle opened with just a sigh and poured out two glasses. He’d bought antipasto at the market and bread at a trendy bakery. It had a crunchy crust and was baked with olive oil and rosemary.

  He lifted his glass in a toast. “To us,” he said.

  She tasted the dancing liquid and her eyes widened in surprise. “Is this the real thing?” she asked.

  “A lady like you deserves the best.” he said.

  She reached for the bottle. “Dom Pérignon. I’ve never even tasted it before. Oh, Dean. You mustn’t waste all your money on me.”

  He lifted his glass at her. “It’s all right, Kate. I have lots of money.” Another hint dropped. The way he was going, she was going to know he was Darren Edgar Kaiser Jr. within the hour.

  “Well, you won’t have any money if you keep buying real French champagne.”

  “Isn’t it great?”

  “Mmm.”

  Soft jazz played in the background while they drank champagne, munched antipasto and talked with the easy familiarity of friends and the intimacy of lovers.

  Since he had an idea Kate wasn’t the type to relish boiling live lobsters—truth to tell it wasn’t his favorite skill, either—he’d already done the deed and they sat, bright pink and succulent, ready to eat.

  “I saw live lobsters at the market today and couldn’t resist,” he told her.

  “Now, that’s another thing I’ve never tried.”

  “Well, it’s a messy business. At home my family used to summer in Maine. The best way to eat a lobster is on the beach in front of a fire. But, the second best way is right here in my apartment with lots of melted butter and a stack of napkins,” he told her as he ushered her to the dinette table that looked marginally better with the blue tablecloth he had remembered to buy. Her flowers sat in the middle—a bouquet of cheerful bright yellow.

  They sat, and he brought out the salad, the lobster crackers, lemon wedges and the melted butter.

  Suddenly, and for the first time since he’d moved to Seattle, he missed the amenities of seduction that were a big feature of his Manhattan apartment. The killer sound system—he was making do with a ghetto blaster, the German cutlery, the Swedish wineglasses so thin and delicate he was constantly replacing them. The designer dishes a former girlfriend had picked out.

  He missed his nice things, not even for himself, he decided, as he eased the cork out of a Sancerre, but for Kate, a woman he wanted to shower with the best life had to offer.

  He poured wine into plebian glasses and decided it would taste just as good.

  Maybe the setting left something to be desired, but the company certainly didn’t. Kate was like those daisies she’d brought—colorful, cheerful and natural. For a man who’d spent his life around hothouse roses, the difference was startling and welcome.

  He eased into his seat across from Kate and she looked at the perfectly cooked lobster on her plate, glanced at him and said, “Help. I have no idea how to eat this.”

  “Right,” he said, and prepared to give his first lesson in lobster cracking. “The first thing we have to do is shield you from the mess we are about to make.”

  He went to the bathroom and emerged with two bath towels. “Sorry, there’s no color choice. I only have blue,” he said as he wrapped a towel around her neck.

  “You need a safety pin to fasten it.”

  “Do I look like a man who has safety pins?”

  She laughed. “I’ve got some downstairs.”

  “No. We’ll improvise.” A skill he’d enjoyed developing over the last few weeks. “Paper clips.” And he dug through his stuff until he found some.

  “Lobster is an aphrodisiac, you know?” he said, once she’d got the hang of digging the meat out of the claws. He watched her lick white meat from her fingers.

  Her eyes gleamed with both humor and the same lust that was sparking through his body. “Are you sure it’s the lobster?”

  Kate laughed as Dean very deliberately pushed a plump and buttery piece of lobster between her lips, then swooped in for a quick kiss. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”

  “I thought that oysters were aphrodisiacs,” she replied around the seafood. It was so delicious she wanted to moan with pleasure.

  “We’ll have oysters tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, Dean. You spoil me.”

  “I could spend the rest of my life spoiling you,” he promised. And when she looked into his eyes, startled, she had the momentary feeling that he meant it.

  They talked of nothing much. His job, her job, her friends from the party. But every time her eyes met Dean’s or their hands brushed in passing, her belly would constrict with excitement. They both knew how the night would end.

  Each prolonging moment was a painful teasing of the senses. Kate felt alive in every cell of her body. Her taste seemed sharper, her sense of smell more intense as she savored each different texture and flavor. Everything about the night was magical.

  “I’ve got something special planned for dessert,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “You.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him rise and advance around the table. He leaned forward to kiss her, then, before she realized what he planned, he’d hoisted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom.

  He made short work of her dress and then laid her out on his bed.

  It was the second time she’d been in his bed, she realized, and this time she was having a lot more fun.

  He kissed her, dazed her with his hands and mouth and whispered promises. He kissed her everywhere, taking her up and up until she felt as plump and buttery as the lobster.

  She cried out the first time when he touched her with his tongue.

  She cried out again when he entered her body and took them both over the edge.

  12

  “HOW WAS YOUR WEEKEND?” Ruby asked.

  “Fine.” Kate reached under her work counter for a curling iron, letting her hair swing forward to hide her face. The women were preparing their stations before opening, sharing a hurried few minutes before customers began arriving.

  Ruby perched on her chair in front of her mirror, rapidly applying makeup. “Fine,” she snorted. “Angel-Butt has the worst case of unrequited love I have ever seen. And you have to live in the same building with the man. If he was Denzel Washington, well okay—but Angel-Butt?”

  “Don’t you think he’s nice?”

  “Well, sure I do. He’s terrific. But what would the two of you do for fun? One of those fancy crossword puzzles? Discuss nuclear physics? Play the Mensa lovers’ board game?” Ruby was enjoying her own jokes so much her lipstick was going on crooked.

  “Well we could do what we did this weekend. Let’s see, we ate lobster, drank champagne and…there was something else. Oh, I know. We made love endlessly,” Kate told her in a husky undertone, drawing out each word, especially the last three.

  “Whaah!” Ruby shrieked, jerking the lipstick in a thick crimson streak in the direction of her nose.

  It was Kate’s turn for unholy amusement, as she handed her friend a tissue. “Wipe your mouth, you look like the Joker from Batman.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Ruby ignored the tissue, eyes round as saucers. She gave Kate a searching look. “Oh, my God, you’re serious.”

  “Oh, Ruby, I’m crazy about him. He’s not like I thought he was at all. He’s sweet and kind and…well…I’ve never known anyone like him.”

  Seeing her friend’s knowing leer, she felt her cheeks warm.

  “It’s not just the sex. It’s him, and me…the way he makes me feel. It was just incredible.”

  “Honey, I have got to know, what’d he look like in nothing but angels?”

  Kate thought back to the moment she’d peeled away his jeans and left him in nothing but the cherub bikinis bursting with his arousal. “He looked fantastic,” she purred.

  “Well, get that smile off your face, girl. Here comes your first customer.” And in a louder voice Ruby called out, “Good morning, Mrs. Hodgkins. You ask about Kate’s weekend, it’s quite a story.” And with a quick wink at Kate, who scowled at her furiously, she turned to welcome her own first customer.

  While Kate cut and streaked, permed and colored, she thought about how Brian, who had seemed so right, had been so completely wrong for her. And that Dean, who’d seemed so completely wrong, could turn out to be so perfect.

  Well, it was early days yet, of course, but she felt as though she were entering territory she’d never trod before. She wasn’t a promiscuous woman. She gave her body only when she cared deeply. How had she come to care so deeply for Dean in a matter of weeks?

  And how deeply did she care? She had the disturbing feeling that she was falling in love with the man. This time, she decided she wasn’t going to be fooled by a slick appearance and ambition like Brian’s. She was going to accept Dean as he was and love him for the man he was inside.

  It didn’t matter that his hair was awful or his clothing taste questionable, she decided. Only the man inside mattered. He was the one she was falling for. And she was falling hard and fast. She could barely wait for her shift to be over so she could get back to Dean.

  However, she decided, they were going to wear themselves out if they didn’t take a break from the constant sex. She shivered inside, thinking that she’d gone to sleep last night with her body still pulsing with aftershocks.

  This morning, not her alarm, but Dean’s tongue had woken her. She sighed. She could get used to beginning her days in such a fashion.

  He’d shown her one of his favorite traditions with the lobster. Maybe she’d surprise him with one of her favorite summertime activities. A picnic.

  With that in mind, she called him at home, where she knew he was still working. Soon he’d be back at his regular job and she was sort of dreading losing him so many hours to his work.

  “Hi,” she said when he answered.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice perking up when he recognized hers. “My bed felt empty when you left this morning. Do you know you make the craziest sounds right before you—”

  “I think I must have the wrong number,” she interrupted in the primmest tone she could manage while her body melted with heat.

  He chuckled. “Don’t think so. What’s up?”

  “I’m asking you for a date.”

  “Wonderful. I accept.”

  “You don’t know what it is. Or when. You might be busy.”

  “I am never too busy for you.”

  “Also, you don’t know anyone in Seattle, aren’t working right now and I’m practically your only friend.”

  “And then there’s that,” he said, laughter still in his tone.

  She loved how they could be so silly together, but always, underneath it was a cord that pulled them closer. It was strange, and scary and exhilarating.

  “I get off work at three today. Would four be too early for dinner?”

  “Right now would not be too early for dinner if it involves you.”

  “It involves you, me and a picnic basket.”

  There was a short pause. “Oh. A picnic.” He didn’t sound thrilled.

  “What is it? You’re not allergic to grass or something, are you?”

  “No. I hate crowds, that’s all.”

  Now she thought about it, apart from going to his job and out to run or shop for groceries, he barely left the house. She hadn’t thought much about it, but now she wondered if he maybe had some kind of phobia.

  Even when they’d been out for dinner with her friends he’d acted a little weird.

  “You’re not agoraphobic, are you?”

  “No. No. It’s fine. I’ll be ready at four.”

  She stopped at the deli and got all the best picnic foods. Fried chicken, potato salad, some gourmet olives, crunchy bread rolls and cheese. She thought about dessert, blushed at the direction of her own thoughts, remembered they’d be out in public when they ate dinner this time, and bought some oatmeal-raisin cookies and some fruit.

  She got home with enough time for a quick shower, a change into white shorts and a blue halter top, since the weather continued hot and sunny, packed her wicker basket and dug out her picnic blanket. She made lemonade and poured it in a jug. She added that to her basket along with a couple of pretty plastic glasses and some napkins. The plates and cutlery were already strapped in to the lid of the basket.

  Dean looked dorkier than usual, she thought when he descended the stairs as she was packing the picnic stuff in her hatchback. She was surprised until she realized that he wasn’t looking dorkier now, he’d simply made more of an effort during their weekend together. He’d barely worn his glasses once since Saturday night, and if he’d slouched she hadn’t noticed. Of course, his wardrobe hadn’t been much of an issue since they’d mostly been naked.

  Oh, well. She remembered her self-administered lecture of earlier. He’d turned down her offer of a makeover. Obviously his appearance was a touchy subject and she’d fallen for who he was. If his outer appearance was less prepossessing, that was okay. It was the man himself who appealed to her. Not his looks.

  Although, she did like his looks. She loved his serious, sexy gray eyes and the strong angles of his face. She loved his body and his smile.

  He was currently wearing a ball cap for a hockey team, big dark glasses and a shirt that made her dizzy to look at. He also wore his usual too-big board shorts and clunky sandals. But he was cute in his own way.

  He kissed her hello and she decided he was more than cute. He was also sexy and adorable.

  “What are you smiling at?” he asked her, kissing her again so her answer was delayed.

  “You. You’re a true original.”

  She thought his grin stiffened, but as he turned away just then it was hard to be certain.

  He got in the passenger side and they started off. “I know you don’t like crowds, so I’m taking you to an out-of-the-way waterfront park that shouldn’t be too crowded.”

  They ate their picnic on a grassy patch overlooking the water. After the first few minutes when Dean seemed to shrink into himself and cast wary glances around the park, he finally relaxed. Perhaps he was a shade agoraphobic and didn’t realize it. She wondered if she could help him overcome his fear of crowds and open spaces. Maybe outings like this were the best thing for him.

  Soon he relaxed and they ate the food, drank their lemonade and watched the water and the other couples and the families that were enjoying a sunny evening.

  She pulled out the cookies and grinned at him. “I’m sorry my dessert isn’t as exciting as yours was.”

  When he returned her meaningful glance with interest, her shorts almost melted. Well, maybe they couldn’t indulge in anything too sexual in a public park, but foreplay could take all sorts of forms.

  Instead of reaching for a cookie, she plucked a bunch of red grapes from the basket and pulled off a particularly plump one.

  She leaned over and slipped the grape between his lips, making sure her fingers made contact with his mouth. “When we get home,” she told him in a soft, sultry voice, “you will get your real dessert.”

  “WHAT’S THIS?” KATE EYED the flat box, with its bright gift wrapping and gold bow, eagerly. “Another camisole?”

  “Considering the last one I gave you is almost in rags, I guess it should be,” Dean said, giving her a look that made her cheeks warm. “But no, guess again.”