It left off with Jonah saying "Let's hear about it."
So let's!
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this.
Love!
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His shadow crossed her lap, throwing her book into shade, but she wasn’t reading—she’d been watching his approach with open interest.
The July sun was blazing, baking the lakeshore in a pleasingly lazy way, heating up the tanning oils on beautiful young wealthy bodies, and providing a dazzling glow around all the Cedar Falls residents and miscellaneous tourists who’d chosen to make their recreation by sunning themselves by the picturesque Cedar Lake.
On the books Cedar Lake had another name, but everyone knew it by the easier to pronounce and much easier to remember colloquial name. It, along with the stunning falls that tumbled over Cedar Ridge from impressive heights, provided a signature scenic backdrop for the uppercrust community, looked good in wedding photos, made for good post cards. In the summer it was also one of the best places to see and be seen, to socialize, look for dates, meet up with friends, and keep current with all the town’s juicy goings-on.
The boardwalk across the street, which did well enough in the other seasons due to the fact that it was considered part of the charming historic downtown area, absolutely came to life in the summer months when school was out and students of all ages came to play, to eat, to shop, to buy, to loiter, to waste time and money where all their friends were doing it too.
Nolan loved Cedar Falls in summer. Loved the sun and the increase in casual social activity. He’d spent his summers in high school working at or around the Lakeshore—as a busboy at a busy café one year, as an ice cream and soda jerk the next, then as a hotdog seller with a cart and finally as a lifeguard—a job he’d loved and done for several summers in a row through college.
He was older now, and he had the luxury of coming to the shore with no professional obligations. It was a rare day off from both his jobs and he had the entire day to rest, relax, re-charge his battery in the sunshine, and enjoy the company of friends.
Only he’d found himself terribly distracted from their company. For the last hour or so, Nolan had hardly been able to keep his eyes from wandering, time and again, to a solitary figure on a beach blanket about thirty yards from where he and his friends had set up their picnic and chairs and towels and had been making a go at beach volleyball. A sport he was normally decent at, but at which, today, he sucked miserably.
“Just go fucking talk to her already, for fuck’s sake, you’re dead weight out here and it’s pissing me off to watch you drool like a teenager.” His friend Len had finally aired the half-amused grievance all his pals seemed to be feeling. Nolan had looked from face to face and they’d all worn knowing smiles and nodded in agreement.
He’d been slightly shamefaced at discovering he was so obvious in his interest in the magnetic stranger on her beach blanket—with her book and her sunglasses and her lightweight bohemian style skirt whipping and billowing when the breeze picked up. But he hadn’t needed to be told twice. He’d grinned, nodded, and set off directly.
Now he was standing in front of her, where his feet had carried him almost on their own, and he realized he’d been so captivated by her on his approach that he hadn’t prepared a single thing to say when he arrived. So he stood there for a moment, feeling a little like he might be dreaming, his brain churning very slowly, but his smile working just fine.
She was smiling too, a wry smile, and looking at him expectantly. She hadn’t played coy, like most girls do when men set out to make a move and cross toward them. Nolan had seen that little mating ritual often enough, having been a bartender for years (Oh my god he’s coming over, don’t look!). This young woman, who had more than once been looking right back at him when Nolan had dragged his eyes from the game to her location, when this woman saw him start toward her, she lowered her book and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head in order to follow him with her eyes.
Now she moistened her lips with her tongue and cocked an imperious black eyebrow at him.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. This realization, apparently, tied the tongue. She’d looked great from afar, and up close she didn’t disappoint—she got even better. Striking and exotic and softly sensual. Her skin was a rich, dark, honeyed chocolate, her curves were mouthwatering, her hair--which tossed and danced in the breeze along with her skirt--was thick, and shining, and full bodied with alluring, gentle waves. Her eyes were arrestingly large, and dark and deep, rimmed with long, thick raven lashes set against dramatic, heavy lids under long, well sculpted brows. Her cheeks were high and wide, and full, casting the area below into stark shadow before the softness of her jawline blunted what might otherwise have been too harsh and effect. Her chin was soft, and nestled above it—at a perfect mid-way point between chin and her gentle, surprisingly anglo-looking nose which widened in good balance across the nostrils and which tilted down just a bit at the tip—rested a mouth so perfect it might have been taken directly from fine art. Wide and pleasingly proportioned, it would seemed sculpted, but for the soft, warm fullness of it. The lips curved and dipped and flared in all the ideal places. She wore very little make-up—a small amount of dark eye liner and a richly tinted lip gloss was all Nolan could detect as far as enhancements went. She was a natural knock-out.
B y some minor miracle he managed to draw a breath, his charming smile helping to cover his uncharacteristic attack of nerves, and spoke. “Hey there.” He said, happy that he sounded personable and not creepy. It wasn’t elegant, it wasn’t clever, but it would serve in a pinch.
“Hey yourself.” She responded, looking up at him with a small, amused smile playing around her mouth and eyes.
Nolan’s lips parted—her voice. She’d only said two words, he’d need to hear more, but it made his breath catch in his throat. It had been sort of raspy, and pleasingly low for a woman; like a purr.
Again they stared at eachother. Her lips split into a grin—a million mega-watt thing that made his knees tickle it was so bright and open and white! She had dimples too, when she grinned like that, one on each side. After a moment she chuckled, sending a thrill down his spine—it too was low and dusky and reminded him of a good, nicely aged, full bodied Syrah. When most young women spoke it was Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay, when they laughed it was White Zin or Riesling. This woman wasn’t in the whites at all. This made him grin right back at her.
“I’m Nolan.” He said, relieved that he could still recall his own name at this point. “Nolan Delaney.” He held his hand out, out of habit, for a shake.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly in response, and she let him wait there in limbo just long enough to make him wonder if he was a complete asshole, before shifting her hard-cover into her left hand and clasping her right into his.
He felt it like getting that startling accidental shock that sometimes happens when slipping up while plugging in Christmas lights: it was electric and hot for a second, chased by a tingling warmth that bled upward and outward from where her skin came into contact with his, spreading steadily until his whole person felt warm and weightless, and it seemed as though his bones were vibrating gently.
Her smile slipped, and she gazed at their clasped hands for a moment before sliding her fingers from the shake and leaning back on the hand casually.
He didn’t know what to say next. He was staring like a teenager at a magazine cover heart throb: awed, enamored, delighted, embarrassed, transported. At least he was able to smile winningly while he did so.
“Hello Nolan Delaney.” She said, and her honeyed-hoarse voice tickled deep inside him, vibrated in his core.
“Hey.” He responded, sounding a little dazed.
She smiled and threw her midnight black eyes past him, back toward where he’d been with the guys. “You’re not much of a volleyball player.” She told him regretfully.
His lips pulled to one side and he chuckled. He scratched the back of his head a little. “I’m not normally so terrible—“ He said with an almost shy smile. “I found myself a bit, distracted, today, for some reason.”
Her eyes flicked back to his and he watched mischief dance within their limitless depths. A man could lose himself in those eyes. “Is that so?” She mocked with a silken glove.
“It is.” He leveled, playing like it was the most puzzling occurance.
“I’m no expert—“ She said, looking thoughtful, “But I’ve heard it said, somewhere, that it’s generally a good idea to keep your eyes on the ball.”
He exhaled through his nose and couldn’t help the sheepish smile that captured his face. He nodded as if he were taking her advice to heart. “Yeah, you know, I knew there was something I was forgetting out there, some critical piece of…” He looked at her, radiant in the sunlight, and just couldn’t think anymore. He fell abruptly mute.
“Yeah.” She responded softly. She held his eyes with hers for a long, breathless moment, before smirking and breaking the gaze to put a wide, flat burgundy colored silk ribbon between the pages of her book and settle it on the blanket next to her. She then focused on adjusting her skirt unnecessarily with slow, relaxed movements. She wasn’t being coy, she was giving him a moment to get his shit together, he realized almost too late.
He swallowed, and blinked, and tried to bring his mind into focus. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! He needed to shake himself and get back on his goddamn game or he was going to blow it.
“So, Nolan Delaney—“ She said, her smoky voice sending what few thoughts he’d managed to gather up scattering once again like feather-light seeds in a breeze. “You didn’t come over here to tell me you’re usually a passable volleyball player.”
“No, no. I didn’t.” He smiled. He was doing a lot of smiling. At this point he would gladly trade some smile for some wit.
“So what did you come over here for?” She prompted, her purring timbre teasing but not unkind. She was flirting with him and she was good at it. For once in his adult life, Nolan was playing the mouse to someone else’s cat and found himself scrambling to find footing and hurrying to keep pace.
He steeled himself, took a deep breath, tilted his head to the side, and decided that if he couldn’t think of anything witty, he’d best just say what he was thinking.
“You want to get dinner?”
Her lips twisted, but she composed her face into a mostly thoughtful expression. “Dinner? It’s only just past noon Nolan.”
“Tonight.” He amended. “If you’re available.” He hoped she was available.
“Well, sure I’m available…” She said, trailing off meaningfully.
His brows drew together. “Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there.” He assessed shrewdly.
“Well, Nolan Delaney, It’s just that I have a rule.”
He looked at her, waiting on tenterhooks for her stipulation, her caveat, her rule. He nodded, encouraging her to go ahead.
“Call me old fashioned, but I don’t make a habit of going to dinner with people unless they at least know my name.”
He could have slapped himself on the forehead. What a fucking moron. His jaw went slack and then he had to laugh at himself. “I’m an ass.”
“Just a little.” She allowed. “But when someone looks as good as you do shirtless I guess there can be a little leeway.”
He felt a heat on the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the sun. He pursed his lips and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, laughing a few times weakly at himself. He’d really botched this. He had a hard time understanding why this goddess was still putting up with him.
“I’m Nolan.” He tried again.
“Yes.” She agreed. “We’ve got that much established.”
She wasn’t going to cut him a break. He laughed appreciatively. What was he supposed to say? ‘Who are you?’ That didn’t sound right in his head. “What’s your name?’ sounded like a child molester. How the fuck was this done? Usually he just offered up his name and the other person responded in kind.
“I didn’t catch your name?” He asked it, rather than said it, because they both knew she hadn’t dropped it; but it was the least offensive option he could land on.
She laughed richly. “Ok.” She conceded. “I’m Zahra.”
Perfect. It fit her perfectly. Exotic ,and breathy, and off-beat, and electrified with that Z at the front. “Zahra.” He repeated, eager to taste it on his own tongue. Starts in a sizzling buzz, opens with a rich fullness, curves around the tongue and then finishes on a subtle, sexy, exhalation. “Zahra.” He said it again approvingly. “How do you spell it?”
She tilted her head to the side and fixed him with a challenging stare. “Z-A-H-R-A” She obliged. Then, “How do you spell your name?”
He was puzzled for half a second. Oh. Shit. Because she was Indian. Because her name was not Tiffany or Kate or Erica. She probably had to spell her name aloud for people all the time, correct their mistakes, explain her culture to cheerfully ignorant white folks from childhood on. He felt like the world’s biggest douche. “N-O-L-A-N.” He responded honestly.
She pressed her lips into a line, suppressing a smile.
“Zahra, what’s your last name?” He asked. He noted that his view of her ample cleavage was just spectacular from this angle.
“Keerthani.” She responded, almost a dare.
He smiled. He liked that too. Playful, sharp in places, soft in others, and finished on a smiling sort of note. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Zahra Keerthani.” He told her, meaning it with every fibre in his being.
“Oooh. First try. Impressive.” She said, and he guessed she was referring to the pronunciation of her last name.
“It’s a good name.” He said. “It fits you. It feels right.”
She threw her other hand behind her and leaned back even farther. She studied him curiously for a moment. “And Nolan Delaney fits you.” She decided.
He chuckled and gave her a little nod to acknowledge her verdict. “So… will you go to dinner with me?” He prompted sweetly. “Zahra.” He added, for good measure.
“Well now that we’ve become acquainted…” She teased, drawing another grin to his lips. “Yes. I believe I’d like that very much.”
He flashed his teeth and rubbed his hands together, pleased as punch. He actually had butterflies in his gut. Who was this woman? “Are you a vegetarian?” He asked rather suddenly.
She rolled her eyes. “No. Are you?”
Fiesty. “No—I just wanted to make sure you’d enjoy the menu—La Buggia Bella has a duck special that is just incredible.”
She looked impressed. Or—he couldn’t tell, was she mock-impressed? “Oooh. The winery? Cedar Ridge? This is some first date, Mister.”
“Yeah—“ he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. His usual first date was some variation of a picnic in the park with wine and cheese, and if it was the right night a movie on the green, or maybe a stroll on the boardwalk, or a nice time by the duck pond under the moonlight. He didn’t know what wild impulse had made him blurt that out about the winery. Now he looked like some rich asshole who wanted to buy her consent to sex. “We can go somewhere more low-key, if, if you’d prefer—I don’t mind, I’m flexible.”
She laughed a naughty little laugh. “Yeah, you look pretty limber.” She noted wryly. “The winery sounds—well, I won’t bullshit you, it sounds like a really expensive and elite kind of place.”
He smiled softly, barely recovering from his very enjoyable gut reaction to her little innuendo. “It’s actually pretty cozy when you get in there, warm and welcoming, and the view is unforgettable.”
“You take all your dates there?” She challenged lightly.
“No, no, I’ve never had a date there—“ He hurried to clarify as she gave him a skeptical brow. God she was gorgeous. “I used to work there.”
She nodded slowly. “Ok then Nolan Delaney. Tonight. La Buggia Bella. For incredible duck and a cozy dinner with an unforgettable view.” He nodded enthusiastically. “What time are you picking me up?” She asked casually. “And where?”
“I’ll have a table for eight, so let’s say seven thirty?” He was feeling a lot more confident now as she nodded her agreement. He felt his rib cage expanding and filling with a buoyant sort of weightlessness. “Where would you like me to pick you up?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Hmmm.” She deliberated a moment, looking him over and making a play at sizing him up. “You don’t look like a serial murderer or a stalker or a pervert.” She deduced shrewdly. “But, then, they never do, do they?”
He heaved a sigh. This girl really enjoyed busting his balls.
“Let’s play it safe for the time being and say you pick me up at the park—by the gazebo.”
He nodded once to affirm. “Perfect.”
Again they found themselves staring wordlessly at one another for a long moment. All around them the sounds of summer laughed and shrieked, tuned from radio station to radio station, sizzled on the hotdog cart, slurped at icy cold sugar drinks, splashed in the water and lapped against the shore, giggled and called out to friends, hawked souvenirs, beeped on the boardwalk and cried plaintively from the skies. They alone seemed to make no sound, suspended in their private moment of strange yet somehow comfortable connection.
“You keep looking at me as though you know me.” She finally spoke, easing into the silence gently, rather than breaking it.
“I would remember meeting you.” He said with certainty.
“You couldn’t even remember to meet me properly.” She taunted charmingly. “How can you be so sure?”
He opened his mouth to reply then snapped it shut. He searched futilely in his head for a better way to express how he felt. He was drawing a blank. He usually went with his gut in moments like this, went with the honest, unvarnished, unfettered truth.
“This may sound like total bullshit;” He prefaced clearly. She chuckled and made a hand gesture that indicated he should go ahead regardless. “But…You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been so attracted to anyone in my entire life.” Woosh. There. He’d said it. It was out there. He instantly regretted going with the naked truth. It was something a creep said to someone. A con-artist. A lunatic.
She clucked her tongue and gazed past him at the lake, her eyes searching something that wasn’t really there. She sighed. “Normally I’d say you were full of shit and send you packing for saying something as wild as that.”
“But?” he asked, almost not daring to hope.
“But since you’re the single most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life and since I’ve never felt this attracted to anyone else before, ever, I guess it would be hypocritical of me not to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one.”
He was gaping at her with a wide, open mouthed grin when her eyes faded back to the present and focused on him with a fierce intensity that slinked around his heart and made it skip a few beats.
“Wanna get some coffee?” He asked, narrowing his eyes with a newborn determination and sense of purpose.
“It’s 97 degrees out Nolan.” She reasoned sardonically.
“Iced Coffee, then. Just over there--?” He gestured across the street at the shops along the boardwalk.
“What about your friends?” She asked, sounding maybe a little breathless.
“They’ll understand.” He said confidently. “What about your friends?”
She tossed a glance toward the shore where the girls he’d seen her with earlier were flirting in the much more traditional manner with some brawny grad students. “When they see me with you—they’ll understand.”
They shared a smile.
He held his hand out again, this time to help her to her feet. She observed the hand for a brief moment before deciding to place her own in it. It didn’t shock so much this time, but it still seemed to tingle, and a soothing, expanding ,warmth seemed to pour from her fingers right into his very muscle and blood and bone. It felt right like nothing he’d ever known.
When she rose he was unreasonably pleased to discover she was on the tall side. Her height was well matched to his own. He held his breath for a moment—when she stood he hadn’t backed up and the result was two bodies just a hair’s breadth away from contact. He stood, mesmerized by the mysterious midnight of her large, heavy-lidded eyes.
And then he inhaled. And for some reason he ached. With a need or a yearning he couldn’t quite name. She smelled sweet and sunkissed and like the coconut of the tanning oil, but there was something else—something seductive and intriguing inhabiting the heavy, dark, unbound tresses of her wavy mane of hair. Cinnamon? Yes. He loved it. And something more earthy, spicier still—he couldn’t place it just now but his body responded to it readily; and something bright and clean and fresh—tea tree oil? He wasn’t an expert on scents that didn’t find their way into wines, but between his sister-in-law and his younger brother, he’d been lectured enough times on fragrances to have a decent base of knowledge to draw upon.
“No shoes, no shirt, no service, Nolan Delaney.” She murmured, her dusky voice little more than a ragged whisper. He felt the small puffs of her words dance across his lips and chin.
With great reluctance he took a step back. And took a breath. “Right.” He agreed. “Let me run and throw on my shirt and my sandals—wait here and I’ll carry your beach bag.”
She smiled and he ran backwards a few paces before spinning and jogging back to the guys.
He endured the heckling and the teasing and the innuendos with a far-away smile and without further comment after his cursory “Gotta run, catch you guys later.” And then, just as he was about to hustle back to her side, he managed to say one last thing. “Hey Len—“
“Yeah, whatcha need brother? I got a few in my wallet maybe—“
The guys laughed and commented appreciatively. Nolan gave him a warning look despite the easy smile. “Table for two, tonight, eight o’clock. By the windows, ok? I’m getting the duck—don’t know about the lady.”
His friend pushed his lips up toward his nose and scratched a spot in his close-cropped goatee thoughtfully. “She’s the one, huh?”
Nolan’s smile melted quietly into a calm sort of expression. “See ya at eight.” He said with finality, and without further ado, bounded back toward the woman that had just turned his world upside down.
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