One and Only Boxed Set Page 16

  “You know, I could watch the baby for you,” Maren offered. “If you’ve got a night off next week and you two want to have dinner, as long as I’m not teaching that night, I’d be happy to do it.”

  “I wouldn’t mind either,” Stella said. “If Maren has to teach on your night off, let me know. I’ll do it. I love babies.”

  “Really?” Love and gratitude for my sisters flooded through me. “You would do that?”

  “Of course,” Maren said, and Stella nodded.

  “You guys are the best. Let me check my schedule and get back with you,” I told them excitedly. “And let me make sure it’s okay with Nate, but I’m pretty sure he’ll go for it.”

  Later that afternoon, I told him about their offer as we ambled along the Riverwalk with Paisley in the stroller. He stopped in his tracks.

  “Are you serious? They really offered to do that?” He looked especially handsome with his hair all windblown and aviator sunglasses on.

  “Yes. And they’d be really good with her. Stella was a nanny too, and Maren is basically a Disney princess. In fact, I’ve hired her out to do rich kids’ birthday parties dressed up like Cinderella a bunch of times.” I giggled at the memory. “And she’s always a good sport about it. Although she makes good money every time, at least a few hundred bucks, so that helps.”

  Nate shook his head. “I cannot believe people actually pay that kind of money for someone to show up in a costume at a birthday party, especially for a kid.”

  “Oh, believe it,” I told him. “I’ve done kids’ parties that cost thousands and thousands of dollars. These people don’t just want someone in a Cinderella getup from Target with an iPod. They want the gown and the castle, the pumpkin carriage, real white horses, elaborate decorations, a DJ with a stereo system, silver tea sets, cakes shaped like a glass slipper, fireworks, bounce houses, piñatas, a dance floor, face painters—”

  He groaned. “Stop. Just stop right there. Before Paisley hears you and gets ideas.”

  I laughed. “Don’t you want to give your daughter a princess party?”

  “No. She can have a regular party with kids from the neighborhood like we did when we were kids, where you play musical chairs and pin the tail on the donkey, and eat a slice of homemade yellow cake with chocolate frosting on paper plates with plastic forks and ice cream melting all around it,” said Nate.

  “We?” I asked curiously. “I thought you didn’t have any siblings.”

  “I meant you and me,” he said quickly. “Kids from our generation.”

  “Ah. Well, I suspect you’re going to want to spoil your daughter a little more than that. I bet she’ll have you wrapped around her little finger, just like my sisters and I were with our dad. He never could say no to us.”

  Nate went quiet after that, so quiet that I was concerned I’d said something wrong. Was he thinking about his future with Paisley? Or his past? Was he picturing the suburban neighborhood where he grew up and wondering if he owed his daughter the same kind of upbringing? Downtown loft living was great for single people like us, but if you had kids, you had to think about things like safe outdoor places for them to play, schools, friends nearby. But rather than ask him about his plans again, I changed the subject. “So what do you think about letting my sisters babysit so we could go out one night this week? I looked at my schedule earlier and believe it or not, we don’t have any events scheduled for this weekend.”

  “Really? That’s nice.”

  I could tell he was still distracted, and tried not to be disappointed at our mismatched levels of excitement. “Well, you let me know.”

  We walked in silence for a few minutes, and I looked out over the Detroit River, holding my hair back from blowing in my face and wondering what he was thinking, why he’d suddenly gone mute. When we reached the foot of the Belle Isle bridge, I asked if he wanted to walk across or turn around.

  He glanced into the stroller. “Turn around, I guess. She’ll have to eat soon, and it’s easier to feed her at home.”

  I nodded, and we started walking back. After another ten minutes went by, I couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” But his expression remained serious, his jaw clenched.

  “Because you seem a little upset,” I went on, making an effort to sound friendly and not accusatory. “And I was just wondering if I said something wrong.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Oh. Okay, good.”

  More silence. I was about to lose my mind when he stopped walking. I got about four feet ahead of him and turned around.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I am upset about something, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.” He pushed the stroller and caught up to me. “And I would like to take you out this weekend. Could you ask your sisters if Friday night would be okay? I still want to try to visit my mom on Saturday.”

  “Of course,” I said, relieved it wasn’t me but concerned about whatever it was that was bothering him. “I’ll text them right now.” Pulling my phone from the pocket of my denim jacket, I messaged both sisters at once. Maren got back to me right away and said she’d be happy to do it, and Stella replied a few minutes later that she was supposed to attend a work function with Walter but would rather babysit with Maren, so she was going to try to get out of it.

  “We’re all set.” I dropped my phone back into my pocket and grinned at Nate, hoping to cheer him up. “We have not one but two qualified babysitters anxious to give you some relief and us some adult time.”

  “Great,” he said, giving me half a smile.

  “What should we do?” I faced him and galloped sideways a few steps, thrilled at the prospect of an evening out with him by my side, holding a restaurant door open for me, taking my hand as we walked through a crowded room, sitting across a candlelit table.

  “Leave it to me.” He sounded a little better, happier. “I’ll take care of everything. I want to treat you.”

  My stomach fluttered. “I can’t wait.”

  Friday night, my sisters knocked on my apartment door around six. I let them in, and they followed me upstairs to my bedroom so I could finish getting ready. Nate had made a reservation for seven o’clock, but he hadn’t told me where. He’d said I could dress up or dress down, whatever I pleased. Since he was the one I wanted to please, I’d chosen a bright red dress that showed off my legs and had a deep V in the front. But other than that, it wasn’t skimpy or provocative—it had long, blousy sleeves that cuffed at the wrist, a little belt around the waist, and a soft, flowing skirt. I’d noticed that Nate was turned on by things that were suggestive without being overly revealing. I liked that about him.

  Now, what I wore beneath the dress was another matter entirely—a sexy bra and panties in cherry-colored lace.

  “I love your dress,” said Stella, following me up the stairs. “It looks amazing on you.”

  “Thanks. You can borrow it any time. It would look great on you too, with your runner’s legs.” I smiled at her over my shoulder.

  “Thanks, but I don’t really go anywhere that would require a sexy little red dress,” she said wistfully. “I wish I did.”

  “Make Buzz take you out dancing,” said Maren as we reached the top of the stairs. “Go to Cliff Bell’s and do the Charleston. It would be the bee’s knees.”

  Stella smacked Maren on the arm as she and I snickered. “You guys should be grateful to Walter for letting me off the hook tonight.”

  “We are,” I said, going into my bathroom to take one final look at my reflection. I’d curled my hair and let it swing loose around my shoulders. My makeup I kept minimal, a little blush, some black liquid eyeliner around my eyes, and red lips to match my dress. In my ears I wore tiny diamond earrings, and a cursive E hung from a delicate gold chain around my neck. After giving myself a couple sprays of perfume, I stepped into strappy nude heels and spun around for my sisters, who were sitting on my bed. “Well?”

  “Ten.�
� Maren was confident.

  “Eleven,” said Stella. “And I love how the shoes show off your red painted toes, but are your feet going to be cold?”

  “Nate does a good job keeping me warm.” I grabbed a small black clutch from my closet and tossed my lipstick in it.

  “Things are still going well for you guys?” she asked.

  “Totally,” I said. There were times during this week where he’d gone a little silent and moody, but that could easily be blamed on sleep deprivation, the major changes in his life, and concerns about the future. Overall, he was the same Nate I’d always known—sexy, funny, charming, generous—just more human. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  “That’s great,” Maren said as they followed me down the stairs. “I’m dying to meet him.”

  “He’s excited to meet you, too, and I’m ready, so let’s do it.” I added a few more things—mints, some cash, my keys—before heading across the hall with my sisters, locking my door behind me.

  Although I had a key to Nate’s apartment, I always knocked. I didn’t want to make any presumptions where his privacy was concerned, and besides, I always went a little breathless when he opened the door. I liked that feeling, the rush of it, like cresting the top of the hill on a rollercoaster. Tonight was no exception.

  “Hi,” he said, quickly scanning all three of us but bringing his eyes right back to me. They drank me in from head to toe and back again. “Wow. You look stunning.”

  “Thank you. You look very handsome.” He wore a charcoal suit with a white shirt, no tie. His hair was neatly combed, his scruff trimmed, and since I’d insisted on going straight home last night after one (lingering) good night kiss, his eyes were clear and bright after a good night’s sleep. He’d texted this morning that even Paisley had gone six straight hours without waking up.

  He kissed my cheek and stepped back, opening the door wide. “Come on in. I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” he said to my sisters, offering his hand. “I’m Nate, and over there in the swing is Paisley.”

  Stella and Maren shook his hand and gave him their names with a smile before making a beeline for the baby. Immediately they started cooing over her, remarking on all her dark hair, her big eyes, and the cute little sleeper that I bought for her last Saturday at Partridge Creek. On the chest it said You got this, Dad and was covered with arrows labeled arm, arm, leg, leg, head, and snap here.

  “There are instructions for making her bottles on the kitchen counter next to the can of formula. Diapers and wipes and pajamas are over there on the changing table.” Nate gestured left, then right. “Extra pacifiers are upstairs on the nightstand, and I left my cell phone number on the coffee table. Call if you need anything or have any questions.” He actually looked kind of nervous about leaving, which I found adorable.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” said Maren, pulling Paisley out of the swing. “Just go have fun.”

  “Thanks.” Nate dropped his keys and his cell phone in his pocket. “She gets pretty fussy around nine or ten, but we shouldn’t be too much later than that.”

  “You have no curfew.” Stella gave us a wave. “Enjoy your night out.”

  Flashing my sisters a grateful smile, I took Nate’s hand, sensing he needed some reassurance that it was okay to leave her. “Ready?”

  Eye contact with me seemed to do the trick. “Definitely.” He held the door open for me, and we walked out into the hall.

  We waited silently for the elevator, and when it arrived he guided me into it with one hand on my lower back. It was empty, and as soon as the doors were shut behind us, he spun me to face him and grabbed me tight around the waist with one arm. “You. Are. Gorgeous.”

  The elevator began to descend, making me feel weightless. My heart beat faster. “Thank you.”

  He buried his face in my neck. Inhaling deeply, he squeezed me tighter. “Thank you. For suggesting this. For arranging it.”

  “Of course. You deserve a night out.”

  He opened his mouth and kissed his way down the side of my throat, making my arms and legs tingle. “Easy, easy,” I admonished when I felt his hand brushing up my thigh. “We’ve got hours, don’t we?”

  “Yes. And I intend to make every second count.” But he released me as the elevator slowed to a stop, and I straightened my dress before the doors opened into the parking garage beneath the building. Nate took my hand as we walked to his car, and opened the passenger door for me. Once I was seated, he closed it and walked around to the driver’s side.

  “So where are we going?” I asked as he started the engine. “You’ve kept it a secret all week.”

  Nate took my hand and kissed it before exiting the garage, but he said nothing.

  I moaned with frustration as we eased into traffic, but secretly I loved that he wanted to surprise me. In a few minutes, we pulled up at the Detroit Foundation Hotel, a beautifully restored brick building that had been the Detroit Fire Department’s headquarters in the 1920s, complete with three huge sets of double doors painted bright red across the front. Immediately, one valet opened my door and offered me a hand as I stepped onto the curb. Nate accepted a slip of paper from a second valet, told him we were hotel guests, then came around and took my arm.

  “Hotel guests?” I whispered as we headed for the entrance. “Why did you say that?”

  Again, Nate only smiled as he opened the door to the restaurant for me. “So many questions,” he said, taking my arm again as we walked in together. “Don’t you trust me to do this right?”

  The hostess greeted Nate by name and told him his table was ready. I saw the way her eyes lingered on his handsome features and broad chest, and felt proud to be the one on his arm. “I trust you,” I said, looking up at him as my pulse skittered out of control. It occurred to me that I couldn’t recall the last time I had trusted any man this way.

  Once we’d been left alone, I looked at him across the table and realized that for once in my romantic life, everything was falling into place exactly the way I had imagined it. The crowded room, the arm in mine, the candlelight glowing softly between us. Beyond that, there was the beat of my heart, the look in his eye, the feeling that somehow we were doing this right.

  We were finding our way.

  Fourteen

  Nate

  The evening was perfect so far, everything I wanted for Emme.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was luminous in the candlelight, her blue eyes on fire, her red lips beckoning. Every time she took a bite of something, I watched her mouth, thinking about all the ways she used it on me. I imagined that red lipstick smeared on my cock, and got so hard I nearly asked for the check before the appetizer was gone. But it wasn’t only her mouth turning me on.

  Her hands distracted me too. I’d watch them wrap around her cocktail glass or slowly butter a piece of bread or pop an olive from her martini between her lips, and a memory would hit me from the last two weeks—her fists tightening in my hair, her nails raking down my back, her fingers clutching at my shoulders, my arms, my ass. My hardened flesh sliding against her palms as her tongue stroked my chest, the unabashed way her hands explored every part of me, her fingers seeking out hidden places that made my body tremble and my vision fade. I’d had the most intense orgasms of my entire life with her, and I’d never even taken her to bed. Not properly, anyway.

  Tonight would change all that, even if it was only for a couple hours.

  Not that it was all about sex with Emme and me. It wasn’t. It never had been. In a way, that would have been much easier for me to deal with. But somehow, right from the start—actually before the start—I had known it would be different with her. She and I already had a connection, and it wasn’t based on sex. So I couldn’t start from there with her and simply keep it at the physical level, which for me was surface level. Things had never been just surface level with Emme. We’d cared about each other before we’d had sex. That was the difference.

  That was the scary thing.

&n
bsp; Because the sex only strengthened the original connection. Built it into something more. I felt something for her I had never felt for anyone. It was strange and foreign in a way, like it didn’t really belong to me, yet it was deeply rooted inside me. Every night when she went back to her apartment, it felt like a loss. I was constantly thinking about when I would see her again, the things we would do, what I could say to make her laugh. She was so easy to be with, so understanding of my erratic moods and silences, so free with her thoughts and feelings, even as I struggled to open up about mine. And she never pushed me too hard.

  She deserved more of me than I was giving, I knew that for certain.

  But I had no idea where to start.

  After dinner, I asked her if she’d like to have dessert up in our room.

  Her face lit up. “We have a room?”

  Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking the door to our temporary private oasis, and holding it open for her. Emme went straight to the window while I hung the Do Not Disturb sign and turned the lock.

  “Oooh,” she said, placing one palm on the glass. “Look at this view of the city.”

  I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m sure it’s great, but I don’t give a fuck about the city tonight. Or anyone or anything outside this room. And the only view I want to see encompasses every square inch of your naked body.”