“I thought we could talk about this thing we have going on.”

“Oh, um . . . ,” she stutters, clearly not expecting my comment.

“I was thinking Pebbles,” I add. Where the hell did that come from? It’s the perfect spot.

She’s quiet for the longest time, but I don’t break the silence. I can play along a little too.

“Sure, I can probably make it. What time?”

Now I know I hear excitement in her voice. “Seven. I’ll pick you up.”

“Seven thirty and I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, but I want you to know, I like to pick a girl up when I take her out.”

“We’re meeting for dinner. You said you wanted to talk. This isn’t a date.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

She’s silent but still there.

“And, Red, I’m looking forward to it.”

All she says is “bye” before she hangs up.

I’m not at all surprised she said yes. I know she wants to see me too. If she’s scared about going out with me, I’m confident I can prove I’m worthy. As soon I suggested we go to what she had already told me is one of her favorite places, I swear she purred at the mention. I’ve got this.

CHAPTER 8

Run Run Run

Bell

The mental anguish and sleepless nights have left me exhausted. So I decide on a quick nap after brunch to try to rid my mind of the thoughts I know I shouldn’t be thinking, the idea of the two of us as a couple. However, my nap turns into an all-day siesta full of dreams of him. As I bury my head into my pillow, the sound of his voice keeps ringing over and over in my head. Red, it’s me. Ben Covington. His voice through the line melted any resistance I was feeling toward the idea of seeing him for another date.

I still remember the first time the same thing happened in college. It was our first official conversation. And it was the first time he had strung those two perfect words together, his name, in a way that reverberated through the library and slid into my soul—forever.

• • •

The library was filled with people. Hushed voices echoed through the huge space. The enormous arched windows in the back gave the vast space a feel of magnificence while also allowing a powerful amount of light to shine in. Rectangular wooden tables and artificial trees were scattered around, giving the place a more homelike feel. I spent a lot of time there and appreciated those touches. I was premed and biology was kicking my ass. So I often sought refuge in the library to study and help drill everything I needed to know into my brain. Deep within one of the stacks of books, I spotted him. He stood in one of the aisles, lost in his novel. He was the same guy who had captured my attention one night at a party, but who didn’t even know I existed.

With his mop of shaggy blond hair and tall, lean, muscular body, he looked like a sexy, younger version of Ocean’s Eleven’s Rusty Ryan, and my pulse raced at being close to him. Something made me stop; I was frozen in place and couldn’t pass him by. He seemed at ease leaning against the shelves, tapping the heel of his black suede sneaker against the mass of books behind him as he read. I wanted to see his face, so I lifted my sunglasses and let them rest on top of my head. Then I ambled along the aisle pretending I was looking for a book. I thumbed one out and slid my finger down the smooth binding, then shoved it back. I repeated this gesture, swinging a glance his way with each push and pull. I got closer to where he stood with every repeated motion. I was an arm’s length away before I knew it, but he hadn’t noticed. He was lost in his reading, blond hair falling over his eyes. He wore a plaid button-down shirt, untucked, and a pair of worn khaki shorts. Plaid would normally have been a total turnoff to me, but on him it just seemed to fit. Crazy thoughts whirled in my head of skimming the frayed edges of his shirt with my fingers or maybe even unbuttoning it.

A snort, almost a snicker, escaped his throat and I bit down on my lip at the sexy sound. He was laughing to himself about something he was reading. Watching his slow, easy grin made my pulse race. It just seemed so natural, without any pretense. When I ceremoniously took out my next book, I accidentally dropped it, I was so lost in watching him, in watching the seductive way his mouth tipped up at the corners. He glanced at me, meeting my gaze as he effortlessly bent to retrieve my book. I stared into his blue eyes, but only for a moment. His eyes were intense and I felt magnetized by his proximity. I could tell by the way he moved that he was sure of himself, full of confidence, but it seemed less like arrogance and more of ease. His hands gripped the book on the floor while my eyes swept up to his other hand, to the spine of the book he was holding. He was reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and seeing its title rendered me utterly speechless. What an odd book to be reading with such in-depth interest, I thought.

That slow, easy grin that had to melt every girl’s heart turned into a smirk. “Kama Sutra,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

I wasn’t really listening. I didn’t hear what he said. My heart pounded as my gaze swiveled from his book to his face—tanned skin, eyes bluer than the sky, cheeks flecked with just the right amount of stubble. He was rugged and handsome and hot.

My voice sounded dry. “What?”

“The Illustrated version of A Lover’s Guide to Kama Sutra. You’re looking for help? In a library?” he asked in utter seriousness.

“No, no. No, I’m not.” Horrified, I grabbed the book from him and shoved it onto a shelf. But I noticed that my skin tingled where it had brushed his. Of all the books in the world, that’s the one that I had to be touching—are you kidding me? It took me a few seconds to collect myself, but somehow I kept the conversation going.

I pointed to his book. “Homework?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his hands surrender-style, the book still gripped tightly. My eyes shot to the bare skin that showed between his shirt and shorts and I began to feel flushed when an ache radiated between my thighs.

“No. You caught me. Just hiding out reading one of the classics. Fucking Huck Finn. Something he said turned my mind in a way it shouldn’t have.” He laughed.

“What?” I asked. My curiosity had been piqued.

“Have you ever read it?”

I shook my head no.

“You can’t judge me, then,” he said, his voice deep and husky. He opened the book and recited the line that had him cracking himself up. “‘That is just the way with some people. They get down on a thing when they don’t know nothing about it.’”

The way the words rolled off his tongue—it was hot; he was hot. I knew what he was laughing about and my heart thudded in my chest as I tried not to giggle. I moved closer, drawn to him. As soon as our eyes locked again, there was a moment of pure vulnerability, and the silence that wrapped itself around us seemed to speak volumes. Or that was what I thought until he blinked and handed me the book.

“You should read this if you have time. It really is one of the best books ever written.”

I did giggle at that. “Right. I’m sure it’s up there next to Tom Sawyer.”

“How’d you know?” He winked.

My stomach fluttered with desire and I couldn’t help grinning.

He started to walk backward and I really wanted him to stay. When he stopped at the end of the aisle, I thought he’d changed his mind. But instead what he did captured my heart. He put both feet together and leaned forward slightly to gesture that he was tipping an imaginary hat and said, “It was nice talking to you . . .” He paused, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

“S’belle,” I finished for him, not knowing why I’d gone with my nickname from my time abroad.

“S’belle.” He grinned, the upward tilt of his lip making him even more charming. He stood straight again and I swallowed, meeting his gaze. I breathed out a sigh and before I could even ask his name, he disappeared around the corner.

I yelled, “Wait, I didn’t catch your name.”

From someplace in a distance I heard his deep husky voice call, “Ben, my name is Ben Covington.”

• • •

“Ben, Ben Covington.” They are the same words that traveled through the Crystal Ballroom and back into my heart a few nights ago. The same words that melted through the phone line a few hours ago. And the same words that make my body mold to the mattress right now with a want I shouldn’t be feeling.

My fingers slide down my stomach on their own. My body trembles at just the thought of his kisses and the way his tongue flicked against mine with urgency. I circle my warm flesh and think about the desire that flows between us, the way he looks at me with those languid blue eyes, and his charming demeanor. And I know I have to satisfy this longing before I see him. A sigh escapes my throat as I apply pressure where I need it because there’s no way I’m sleeping with him at the restaurant. And there’s no way I’m bringing him back here or going to his house. All of those places are too intimate. No, we’ll eat dinner together tonight and I’ll plant the seed for one more rendezvous before I say good-bye.

CHAPTER 9

Towers

Ben

I cruise into Brentwood on my bike with plenty of time to spare. The town isn’t that big and I locate the restaurant right away. The sign in front reading Valet Parking throws me for a loop. The name Pebbles had me envisioning a BBQ pit with picnic tables, but what I’m looking at is anything but. A large curved window gives me a peek into the intimate setting inside. It looks pretty nice, which I’m relieved about because I would have hated to take a girl to a dump on a first date.

I skip the valet since I don’t like anyone touching my bike. I find a small parking garage around the corner and pull into it. I’ve been to this town a few times, but the only thing I really remember about it is the white dogwood trees that line the streets. With my bike secure, I walk slowly down the street looking around at the small shops, all very different but inviting to passersby. The old-fashioned streetlights display banners that read MERRY CHRISTMAS. It’s a little early for that—isn’t it?

The town looks to be a little larger than Laguna, and a bit quainter, but nowhere near as trendy or diverse. I pass a florist, some retail shops, a few galleries, and many restaurants and bars. People are walking as though they don’t have a care in the world, just browsing, talking, and laughing. One store in particular catches my eye. It’s a bookstore named Fiction Vixen. My love for old books draws me toward the two stacks in the large windows located on both sides of its front door. The books are displayed in a Christmas-tree-like fashion with strands of lights wrapped around them.

Arriving at Pebbles, I pull open the heavy glass door only to find that the place is crowded. I weave my way through the people waiting in the entry and stop at the hostess station.

“Can I help you?” the cute girl says.

“I’d like a table for two.”

“Do you have a reservation?”

“No, do I need one?”

She glances down at the book of names in front of her. “I’m sorry but you do. We’re full tonight.”

I lean down. “Are you sure you can’t find a small table for two tucked away somewhere? It’s just that this is my first date with a girl and I was really hoping to impress her. I don’t want to look like the jackass I am for forgetting to make a reservation.” I quirk a smile and stand a little closer.

She glances up at me and her eyelashes flutter. “That’s really sweet. Let me see what I can do.”

She scans the seating chart before her.

“How about right there?” I point.

“One of the window tables? Those are always the first ones requested.”

I shoot her a wink. “So my date would be really impressed if I got us one of those?”

She smiles at me as she erases the name printed above the table. “Your name, sir?”