Love at First Sight; First Date, part 2

Zahra was still kind or reeling from that kiss by the time he was coming around to open the card door for her.  Good thing she hadn’t been wearing socks, because he’d have knocked them right the hell off.  Nolan Delaney knew how to kiss a girl.  Woohoo.

Sure she’d made some minxy little comment about it, something that had made him laugh and place a smaller, follow up kiss on her lips before helping her into the car and closing the door gently after her.  Sure she’d kept up a witty repartee and flirty banter on the long-ish drive up to Cedar Ridge.  They’d laughed and teased and played the take-turns question-y game.  Sure, she’d played it cool.

But in all honesty she was shaking inside.  Her knees were distinctly untrustworthy—they were a rebellious amount of watery at present and she wondered what she would do to recover from falling on her ass at La Buggia Bella 5-star restaurant and winery.

And don’t even get her started on the damn lily. Now who needed to be pinched?  And no matter how she scolded herself for over-reacting to the symbolic combination of red, yellow, and silver—the sight of it, in this man’s open palms, had thrown her for such a loop. 

Because thinking about forever was a stupid ass thing to do on a first date.  And he wasn’t Indian; he had had no idea that he was handing her a color combination that screamed ‘wedding wedding wedding’!  She smiled to herself.  And hadn’t she worn white?  For her white wasn’t first and fore-most a wedding dress (in fact, her mother would have a conniption to see her wearing white outside of a funeral—her mother could be so old fashioned!), but for him?  She wondered if that look that had crossed his face when he’d turned around and seen her garbed in white and silver with an up-do—she wondered if he hadn’t had a breathless vision of the future like she had when he pulled out that damned flower.

Probably not.  The dress may be white, but it certainly didn’t look like a wedding gown.  Probably that expression that had stolen over his face had had more to do with how dynamite her breasts looked tonight.  She smiled down at them just as her door opened and he extended his hand for her.  They looked spectacular.  ‘Looking good ladies’, she told them silently, before slipping her hand into his waiting palm and stepping from the vehicle.

 Would it always tingle like this when they touched?  It was unlike anything she’d ever felt with anyone before.  She tried not to let that fact get her all carried away.  No sense putting carts before horses or eggs in baskets or whatever idiom was appropriate.  He was a good-looking guy, an interesting guy, a funny guy, who was taking her out on a date.  No sense jumping the gun (there’s another one!) and ordering monogrammed towels or anything. Sheesh.

But damn if he didn’t look like he wanted to kiss her again right now, as she stood close to him, a repeat of how close he’d stayed when he’d helped her up from her beach blanket that afternoon.  She chuckled at him.  “Save something up for the proverbial ‘good-night’ kiss, Nolan Delaney.”  She teased, her eyes sparkling.

He nodded sagely.  “Thanks for reminding me.”  And he offered his arm again, buttoning the button of his sport coat casually.  Damn he was a sexy piece of man.

She let him take the burden of conversation as they walked up toward the graceful, sprawling restaurant building that attached to the main winery, nestled nicely over cliff with an exquisite drop, and no doubt an equally exquisite view.  He talked about some of the winery’s long history, named a few stats about what kinds of grapes they grew, what kinds of wine they produced. 

“Hey.”  She said, a sudden thought occurring to her.

“What’s up?”  He asked, not the least bit ruffled that she’d very rudely interrupted something he’d been saying about altitude and late-harvests.  “Boring you?”

“No, no, ice wines, got it, no—“  She looked around.  There was valet parking but he’d opted to park rather far away and walk up.  Strange.  And he’d parked off to the side, the view was great, but she hoped he’d put on his emergency brake because it seemed like someone could walk by and look too hard at it and it might topple over the ridge and meet a fiery doom on the rocks below.  “No, you work at The Riverside Bistro.”

They walked quietly for a moment.  “Yes.”  He said.

“The Riv is one of the fanciest places in town—in fact, one might say it’s the main competitor to this place.”

She watched him purse his lips and nod.  “One might.”  He agreed.

“So why are we here?”

“I’m not gunna take you to the place I work—not on the first date.”  He laughed.  “Would you take me to the dentist’s office?”  He’d finally gotten around to asking her what she did for a living during the car ride up.

“You have a great smile, by the way.”  She said, not for the first time.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you—it’s great to look at.”  She said distractedly.  “So you just wanted to take me somewhere swanky and since you work at one of the two best restaurants, you had to take me to this one by default?”

He made a non-committal sound.  “Well, I used to work here.”  He offered with a funny smile.  “And the wine selection is pretty much unrivaled in the area.”  But he wasn’t telling her everything.

They mounted the wide steps and approached the tall, wide entry doors. 

“You used to work here.”  She restated.  Yeah, he’d said something about that earlier in the afternoon, but she hadn’t given it a second thought at the time.

“Mmmhmm.”  He responded, looking up and ahead of them as they climbed.  “Did my apprenticeship here, worked as a cater-waiter, bartended through college.”  He murmured.

He was smiling at someone.  She followed his gaze to where a large, good-looking black man stood, apparently waiting for them, wearing a wide grin and shaking his head slightly.  Zahra had seen this guy at the lakeshore that afternoon.  He’d been teammates with Nolan.  They’d lost several rounds, but not because of this man.  Nolan had been playing lousy.  This guy hadn’t been half bad.

“What happened?”  She asked sassily.  “You get fired?”

Nolan tucked his chin to his chest and smiled at the ground as they made it to the top.  “Yeah, actually.”  He said humbly.

She stopped and pulled her arm from his to get a better look at him.  It was dark out now, the valley below twinkling with the tiny dots of streetlamps and headlights and porchlights.  The entrance to La Buggia Bella was illuminated in a very warm amber.  He looked like a Hollywood star. “Then why the hell would you want to come here?”  She asked with a half-laugh.  “I got fired from Bombay Grille in the city when I was in college and I still tell people they have roaches and that they use expired milk in everything to this day.”

He laughed.  “Well, this place is the best, whether I got my ass fired or not.”  He said. 

“Plus, he knows the owner.”  Rumbled a deep baritone-almost-bass voice as the tall black man stepped toward them.  Nolan grinned and embraced him heartily.  Then the two men turned their full attention on Zahra.

“Len, this is Zahra Keerthani.”  Nolan said, stepping to her side and placing his hand casually on her mid-back.  Her nipples hardened immediately.  Dammit.  It had been a while since she’d had sex, but not so long that she could expect her body to respond like a horny teenager at the slightest male attention.  She hoped Len’s eyes stayed on her face.  “Zahra, meet the owner of La Buggia Bella vineyard and winery—and my best friend—“  The men smiled.  “Lennox Knight.”

Wow.  Yeah, she’d read about him.  They had a few copies of the month-old magazine with his face on the cover in the waiting room at the office.  He was even better looking in person.  She held her hand out reflexively and he didn’t hesitate to take it and bend over it in a smooth but tame kiss.  “Pleased to meet you Mr. Knight.”  She said.  She’d felt Nolan’s hand press more firmly into her back when Len bent to pay courtly tribute.  Oooh.  He didn’t seem like a jealous type.

“Call me Len.”  The man said smoothly as her straightened.  “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you Zahra.”  He shifted his eyes to Nolan for a moment and his expression sparked of mischief. 

“Thank you.”  She said breezily.  “Tell me Len, why did you fire Nolan?”

Len threw his head back and laughed richly.  He gestured for them to continue on into the restaurant.  They walked, Nolan gave her a small smile and kept his hand planted on her back, though now it slipped a little lower, a more comfortable location for him—a decidedly more distracting place for her.

“This was years ago—“  Nolan started to explain.

“I was still a bus-boy cater-waiter when all that went down.”  Len reminisced fondly.  “So I’m not privy to why Old Mack gave Delaney the boot.”  He chuckled.  Zahra suspected he knew exactly why.  These two were best friends and had been since at least their college cater-waiter days?  He knew.  “But I can tell you, it’s the stuff of legend, and there are quite a few juicy rumors about it, still to this day.”

As they walked, employees in fine La Buggia Bella uniforms were opening doors and gesturing mute directions, preceding them now with menus and preparing a table for two by a wide expanse of windows overlooking a view that gave Zahra pause.  She glanced around.  This had to be the best table in the place.  She furrowed her brow curiously.  “Drinking on the job?”  She offered teasingly.  She would find out.  She had an inkling that whatever had happened somehow played a key role in making the man who was now deftly guiding her to her chair, shooing the gawky college aged waiter kindly so that he could hold her chair for her.

“He can’t help himself!”  Len laughed.  “Always an open bottle when this guy’s around.”

Nolan slid the seat in beneath her like a pro.  Well.  She supposed he was a pro, wasn’t he?  Nolan Delaney was no amateur in the hospitality department.  “I’d better be careful, don’t want to lose my head over some wino.”  She joked, wishing Len would go away so she could focus on Nolan.

Nolan sat, wearing an expression that communicated a fondness for having his balls busted by her.  She flashed him her dimples and he smiled broadly in return.

“I can take his keys now, if you think this lush’ll make a scene.”  Len offered smilingly. 

Nolan gave him an arched eyebrow.  “You going to be our waiter, wise ass?”  He asked.  He talked to Len the way she did to her brother.

Len chuckled.  “Nah.”  He said, waving a hand dismissively.  “As much as I could use the hefty tip, I’ve got other things to worry about without worrying that I’m turning this lovely lady’s head with my unstoppable game.”

Nolan laughed, but he shot her an almost nervous little glance.  It was subtle, it was barely perceptible, but Zahra caught it and it made her like him more than all his charming confidence could have done in that moment.  She laughed a full throated laugh, winked at him, and then turned her eyes up to Len.  “Well, I saw you both looking at the beach today.”  She said wickedly.  “Was it his turn?  Or did you flip a coin?”

Len looked startled and then laughed approvingly.  “Either way he’s the lucky one who gets to sit here with you tonight.” Nolan’s best friend replied suavely and gave her a very warm, but’ definitely friendly--rather than more-than-friendly—smile.  Then he turned to Nolan.  “Alright Delaney.”  He said, his tone changing to a more ball-busting one.  “I’ve done my part—walked you in, got my staff in a tizzy, got everyone looking; anything else you needed?”

Nolan glanced around the restaurant approvingly.  “Nah, that’ll do Len.  Nice work.”  He busted right back.  “Too short notice for the harp music and red carpet, huhn?”

“Well now you’ve ruined the desert surprise.  Good going.”

Zahra smiled for their back and forth.  The royal treatment they’d received hadn’t escaped her notice.  All eyes in the restaurant, server and patron alike, were turned their way.  Now she watched Len shake Nolan’s hand, saying something about ‘anything you need, just say the word’, and Zahra was sure she caught the flash of something shiny exchanged from his hand to Nolan’s.  Then he was gathering up her hand once again and placing another warm, but passionless, kiss thereupon.  Zahra rewarded his loyalty to his friend with a dazzling smile and a murmured ‘thanks’.

Len nodded goodbye and stepped away, pulling a waiter aside with a litany of low-voiced instructions.

One young waitress approached rather timidly to light a candle on their table.  A rather bored looking young man approached with a pitcher of ice water and wordlessly overturned their glasses and poured without splashing one drop.  Yet another different face followed on his heels with two handsomely bound menus, an attractively done list of specials, and then a veritable book that read ‘Wine List’ in scrolling silver script across the front.

When at last they were left alone for a moment, Zahra finally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and laughed gently.  “Well, if I was the kind of girl that could be bought, Nolan Delaney, you’d be getting lucky in the restroom right about now.”

Nolan let out a surprised laugh and his eyes sparkled.  “I understand the coat closet offers more space.” In truth, though, he looked a tad rueful about all the fuss.  The good-looking, shirtless, lousy, beach volleyball player seemed just slightly ill-at-ease with being on this end of the hospitality service.  He looked, to Zahra, as if he might pop out of his seat, throw on an apron and settle in behind the bar or something.

She shook her head, puzzled.  “You’re good looking, good humored, and seem pretty good all around.”  She stated.  He tilted his head in a question.  “You don’t need to woo a girl with all this, is what I’m getting at.”  She explained.

“Oh.”  He said, and scratched lightly at the back of his collar.  “Thanks.”  He responded lamely.  “I don’t usually—“  He trailed off.

She huffed a little puff of air from her nostrils.  “You seem to be doing a lot of things around me that you don’t usually do.”  She noted cannily.

He met her eyes and she wondered if she’d ever get used to the way those stormy blue-gray depths made her heart thunder in her chest.  “You aren’t a usual woman.”  He replied bluntly.

She arched a brow but took it as he’d intended it—as a compliment.  “Well you certainly make me feel like something special.”  She confessed, edging the candid words with a playful spark to cover the vulnerability behind them.

His eyes went soft and he smiled.  They had one of those long, wordless moments of just staring at one another.  If someone had told her she’d one day enjoy just staring like an idiot at a guy on a date, she’d have called them delusional.  But, damn, if she didn’t enjoy just gazing moon-eyed at Nolan Delaney.  His face was so expressive, his eyes so rich and full of a language all their own.

“So, a place like this have a sommelier?” She asked at last, when neither of them had spoken in a minor eternity.  She could feel the waiter Len had assigned them hovering not too far away, waiting on tenterhooks for the right opportunity to ooze over to them.

Nolan blinked, seeming to shake himself just barely, and then smiled a roguish little smile.  “Naturally.” He said with a playful arrogance.  “Full-time.”  He added impressively.

“But it’s not you.”  She said.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

He opened his mouth and looked very close to speech, but then reconsidered.  He reached for his water, sipped, and then gestured to their menus.  He waited for her to lift hers before taking up his own.  “I got fired from this place, remember?”  He said, his eyes scanning the menu, but, Zahra suspected, not really seeing it.

“When you were a kid—“  She protested.

“Would you go back to work for the Bombay Grille?”  He asked casually.

“Maybe if they offered me a cushy sommelier job and the ownership changed hands to my best friend.”  She said off-hand.

She made a show of poring over the menu but out of the corner of her eye she saw him startle and then grin before setting his menu down.

The waiter took Nolan’s unoccupied posture as an invitation to approach.  He was young and polite and more than a little nervous.  Zahra’s heart warmed at the way Nolan was instantly able to put the kid at ease by making light jokes and being subtly complimentary.  “I used to have your job.”  He told the kid after a couple minutes of chatting with the lad, during which time Zahra watched the kid’s shoulders go from somewhere around his ears to the relaxed, easy posture of a person at a party.  “We’ll try and make it easy on you—and I’ll put in a good word with the boss.”  She responded to the down-to-earth tone he used; another man might have sounded like a condescending, stuffed-shirt prick.

Nolan Delaney sounded like a genuine guy.  Like a bartender.  She sipped her ice water to cool down.  Bartenders did it for her.

When he was comfortable and smiling the young waiter recited, with little flair, the specials for the evening, and mentioned a wine that had just been added.  Zahra watched Nolan for his reaction but he kept his smile polite and controlled.  He had a poker face afterall.  Why was he an open book almost all of the time when he looked at her, but he could throw on a neutral mask of affable charm with other people? 

As he was leaving, the waiter casually tossed-off that he’d send the Sommelier their way.  Nolan opened his mouth to respond, but the water was already gone.  He looked at her and shrugged.

“Oooh.”  She teased.  “Two sommeliers in one day.  When it rains it pours, Zahra.”  She said wonderingly.

He chuckled.

“You worried I might have a thing for sommeliers and maybe I’ll take a shine to this one?  Leave you high and dry?”

He raised his eyebrows, seemed to consider this for a moment and then gave her a devilish grin.  “You’re a sommelier groupie?”  He played.

“Maybe.”  She purred.  “If they all look like you, then sign me up for autographed posters and road trips following behind tour busses.”

He had the best smile.  “They don’t.”  He broke it to her.  “And if you keep complimenting me like that I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my head on my shoulders.”

She shrugged languidly.  Nolan spotted someone approaching and stood with an effortless grace that Zahra found particularly delicious.  He sucked at volleyball, but this man was in-shape, athletic, and yummy from head to toe.  She could imagine easily, because she’d spent all afternoon conjuring it, that he’d be dynamite in bed.  She imagined he’d have great stamina, be able to last and last, and recoup quickly for more. 

Shit.  He was introducing her to someone.

Zahra looked up, a little startled to see a stunningly attractive woman beside them.  What was this?

“Zahra, this is my good friend Simone; Simone, Zahra.”  Nolan spoke warmly.

Zahra was immediately struggling to hold her head above the tidal wave of insecurities that washed over her at the sight of this knock-out.  It threatened to swallow her whole.  She extended her hand to the beauty, hoping that she wasn’t trembling as noticeably as she felt like she was inside (she suddenly felt very much like a giant jell-o sculpture), and she smiled automatically to hide the pang of jealousy, confusion, and disappointment she was experiencing.

This woman was lithe and bronze and looked every inch a Calvin Klein model.  “Zahra.”  The woman spoke with a liquid, smooth, feminine voice that threw Zahra’s own rhaspy speaking voice into sharp contrast.  She found she couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so she kept her tongue frozen and just smiled warmly.

Simone didn’t seem to notice the lack of verbal response, she just kept on as though Zahra were pulling her conversational weight.  “My friend is a lucky man indeed tonight.”  She said coyly.  Great.  She had an accent.  Simone was lithe, bronze, model-esque, and now add to that: exotically European, sophisticated, and undeniably alluring.  She was some kind of poster-child of male fantasy.  Zahra doubted very much that the woman was wearing any undergarments of any kind beneath that slinky black dress.

Simone flashed a devastatingly perfect smile at Nolan, who kissed her cheek before turning to Zahra.  “Simone is the Sommelier here at Bella.”  He said simply.

Oh, spectacular.  Even better. 

Zahra couldn’t wrap her head around it. Was this why he’d wanted to bring her here tonight?  Because surely these two smoking hot sommeliers had had a steamy sommelier romance.  That much was obvious.  Maybe that’s how Nolan had gotten fired!  Maybe these two were sneaking a torrid affair down in the wine cellars and, in the throes of a vigorous, passionate fuck they had knocked over row after row of wine racks, and, in an awful mockery of dominos, bottle after bottle of rare, priceless wine had been smashed to smithereens while they climaxed together gloriously.  Zahra imagined Simone the Sommelier moaning ‘Oooh, la, la!’ as Nolan brought her to an earth-shattering and wine-cellar destroying orgasm.  Viva la France.

“Thanks entirely to Nolan.”  She murmured, all milk and honey.

Nolan smiled humbly and resumed his seat.  “Not at all.”  He said dismissively.  “You earned your place.”  He insisted.

Simone raised an eyebrow.  So did Zahra.

“We studied abroad together.”  Nolan explained to Zahra with a perfectly innocuous smile.

Wonderful.  Zahra immediately pictured the two of them fucking up against the Eiffel tower.  Maybe Simone wore a beret and held a baguette suggestively while they did it.

“So what is this?”  The French vixen hummed sensuously.  “A pop-quiz?”  Her laugh was light and musical.  Zahra wished she was at home on her couch with a pint of the chocolaty-est of chocolate ice creams in her lap and a cheesy movie on the tube.  “Am I being evaluated?”  The lady sommelier was flirting, but Zahra detected a note of sincere concern underneath her words.

Nolan shook his head with a chuckle.  “No, Simone, honestly, I didn’t expect them to send you over, but the waiter is new.”  He glanced at Zahra.  “I’m definitely not here on business this evening.”  Pleasure was the implied flip side.

But Zahra wasn’t in the right headspace to enjoy the compliment.  She was too preoccupied with subtracting the probable difference between her dress size and Simone’s.  She wasn’t comfortable with the resulting numeral.

“Good.”  Simone said, playing up the relief she felt for dramatic effect.  “It is a little intimidating trying to sound knowledgeable to the man who practically wrote the entire wine list here.”

Zahra liked that Nolan had the grace to look embarrassed.  “It’s good to see you, Mona.”  He said affectionately, but quellingly.  “We’ll likely start by the glass, no decisions yet.”  He smiled pleasantly. 

Zahra searched and searched the two for a hint at their sexual history, but she couldn’t be sure of anything.  But surely they must have.  Look at the two of them!  And how many female sommeliers were there in the world?  They probably felt obligated to do it together.  Maybe one day soon they’d be forced to copulate to ensure the survival of the sommelier species.

Simone was buzzing on in that all-too sexy accent of hers, but Zahra was past the point of being able to listen and focus.  Whoa.  She was bone-rattlingly jealous.  She’d never, ever, ever, been jealous like this.  It was ridiculous.  He wasn’t even hers.  They hadn’t even been to bed together!  They’d only met that afternoon!  What the hell was this?

She didn’t like it, whatever it was.  And she didn’t like feeling enormous, and frumpy, and plain.  She wanted to be home in her PJs fantasizing about some cute guy she’d seen at the lake.

Instead she was sitting across from that guy and wondering what in hell he was up to, getting her all dressed up like an elephant at a wedding, and trotting her out for his old girlfriend to look-over.  And Simone had--looked her over, that is--more than once.  Zahra felt ugly and fat and on-edge, where before she’d felt gorgeous and curvy and on top of the world.

The table was silent when Simone melted away.  It was not one of those comfortable, electrically charged silences Zahra had liked so much.

“So.”  He said.  “You going to up and leave me for Simone?”  He asked lightly.

She glowered at him and his smile evaporated.

“I was only kidding—“  He said, his brow coming together sharply, his beautiful mouth in a grim line.

“More like the other way around, isn’t it?”  She challenged, wanting to sound cool and detached but managing only bitter.

Nolan blinked.  “What?”  He asked plainly.

“If you’re trying to make her jealous, I think you should be more discerning in who you pick next time.”  She felt her throat grip up and blinked back a heat in her eyes.  What the fuck was wrong with her?!  This was ridiculous.  “I don’t think she finds me at all threatening.”  Zahra took a breath.  “And maybe just give a girl a heads up next time.  I’d have been only too glad to help you get back at your ex if you’d been upfront about it.”

Nolan ran a hand through his hair.  “Zahra—“  He said, his voice tight.

“Look, I won’t embarrass you in front of your friend Len, and I’ll pretend we’re into eachother for Frenchy, but let’s you and me drop the bullshit ok?”

“There’s nothing between me and Simone—“  Nolan protested, leaning forward, his face earnest and a little desperate.

“I saw her looking me over, sizing me up.”  Zahra said. “And she’s gorgeous.  And she’s the only woman sommelier I’ve ever heard of, and you two make a very handsome couple.”  Shut up shut up shut up, Zahra!  She silently begged herself.  Be cool, bitch.  Nobody likes a jealous harpy.  You sound like an insane person.

To her utter surprise Nolan laughed.  She wanted to slap him.  But he laughed. 

“I’m glad it’s funny to you.”  She said heatedly.  “But the joke’s on you, pal, because as long as I’m here and all dolled up, I’m going to order the most expensive everything I can find on the menu.”

He managed to stifle his merriment, but not his smile.  He cleared his throat, tossed a glance around them, and then said in a low voice: “She wasn’t sizing you up, Zahra, she was checking you out.”

She stared at him.  Yeah.  What was the difference?

“I mean checking you out.”  He repeated.  “Simone’s a lesbian.”  He clarified.

Oh.  Oh. Ohhhh.  Zahra closed her eyes and wanted to just melt into the floor.  “I’m so sorry.”  She said immediately.  And she was.  She was sorry she’d ever agreed to this date.  He was so perfect and she was such a moron.

“Forget it.”  He said gently.

“No, I’m an ass.”  She said miserably, unable to look him in the eye.

“Not at all.”  He soothed quickly.  “I didn’t realize how that would look if you didn’t know Simone and if you didn’t know me.” 

She looked up tentatively. 

“I’m clearly not her type.”  He said with a soft smile.  “But she wouldn’t be my type even if she were so inclined.”

Zahra could feel the heat lingering on her cheeks.  She felt shamefaced and all jumbled up.  “Oh yeah?”  She inquired numbly.  “Gorgeous isn’t your thing?”

He laughed a short laugh and then fixed her with a smoldering stare.  “Oh, no, gorgeous definitely does it for me.”  He said firmly.  “You’re gorgeous Zee.”  He told her.

The spontaneous nickname made her smile despite her abject mortification.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”  He went on, without a hint of pretense or agenda.  It was humbling and exhilarating and strange, this bald honesty of his.  “And judging by the way she was ogling you, I’d guess Simone feels the same way.”  He grinned brightly.

Zahra laughed deeply; grateful for Nolan Delaney.  “Well.”  She said, reaching for her water.  “Now I have something new to fantasize about in the way of sommelier sex dreams.  My cup runneth over.”

Damn, but she loved that smile.

Love at First Sight; First Date

Warning to the reader:  this one is a long one.  I looked it over again and again and tried to cut it up into segments, but I really like it the way it is, so read at your own pace.

I heart heart heart this one, and it being monday morning, I figured I could use a little smile and love before i head out to work ;)

In case you missed it, check out Love at First Sight parts one and two and also the prologue to this little storyline, I Think I Owe You an Apology!  i am in a wicked rush or else I'd link those for you, but just look over to the side they have all been posted in the last few days or so.  Sorry for the rush!  Full time jobs are a drag on proper blogging!

enjoy,

**********************

Nolan tried to look casual as he paced listlessly to and fro before the wide wooden steps of the park’s picturesque, grand-sized gazebo.  Couples strolled by, hand in hand, talking sweet and low, stealing small kisses.  A group of giggling teenaged girls were jabbering away about some boys they liked—they could apparently see them over near the baseball diamond from their vantage point on the sturdy wooden surround railing of the gazebo.  A father and his boy were stealing every minute of the fading summer sun to toss a few more frisbees to their athletic and very enthusiastic yellow lab.

It was seven-thirty-five, last time he checked his watch.  Which was less than a minute ago.  He’d been early, in the first place, and had been checking his watch every few minutes since seven-fifteen. 

He resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair.  He’d spent close to fifteen minutes on his hair getting ready, and he didn’t want it to look weird or crazy when she showed up.  If she showed up.

Glumly he re-visited the moment of panic he’d had at the playground earlier that day while talking to his brother about his plans for the evening. 

“So, any plans to see her again?”  Jonah had asked pleasantly.  His brother had spent the last half hour listening and helping Nolan work through what had proven to be one of the most amazing encounters of his life.

“Tonight.”  Nolan said, with a smile.

“Nice work.”  Jonah replied, eyebrows high.  “You’re not wasting a moment with this one.”

Nolan smiled at his hands.  “I know.”  He chuckled.  “It just.  It came out of my mouth.”

“Picnic in the park?”  Jonah guessed.

Nolan massaged the back of his neck.  “Ummm, no, actually.”  He said, still a little amazed at the deviation from his normal routine.  “Bella at eight.”

Jonah made a low whistle.  “Well, well, well.”  He uttered.  Jonah knew Nolan probably better than Nolan knew himself.  And this was far from standard operating procedure.  “That’s quite a first date, Brother.”  He commented without judgment.

Nolan ruffled his hair and shook his head, still feeling dazed and not quite himself at all.  “No kidding.”  He said.  “I don’t know what came over me.  I just.  It popped into my head and I said it and it feels right.”  He ran a play-by-play of the afternoon’s events over and over in his head.  “I mean, not that she’d be the type to object to the park date or anything…actually I bet she’d like it a lot…Oh Jesus, do you think I made a mistake?”

Jonah chuckled merrily.  “Relax.”  He soothed, and clapped him on the back gently.  “You said it felt right, don’t second guess yourself.”

Nolan took a breath and tried to take his brother’s advice. He watched, only half paying attention, as Jonah got up and gently reprimanded his daughter about ‘how we share’ in the sandbox.  Viola looked decidedly grumpy about the reminder that not all toys were her toys.  Jonah kissed the girl on the top of her head and stretched his legs fully when he stood back up.  He had a few words with the mother of the other toddler, shared a laugh, then rejoined Nolan on the park bench.

“So, you let Len know you need a table?  Bella fills up pretty quick around eight.”  Jonah inquired, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his eyes scanning the play structure for the twins.  He gave a little wave as one of them streaked by, shouting something about wolves.  It seemed to be some kind of tag game.

“He was there, at the shore, I mean, so, yeah—I gave him the heads up.”

Jonah adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms over his chest, looking contented, relaxed, and maybe nostalgic.  “Mmhmm.  And what’d he say?  Len?”

Nolan narrowed his eyes, trying to think back—he could hardly focus on anything besides her… besides the incredible woman he’d just met.  “Um.  Oh.”  Nolan half-laughed.  “He, uh, he goes: ‘so she’s the one’.”  He looked at his brother, sure that Jonah would be ready to gently quell the hope that was rising like a damn geyser at the thought that this girl, Zahra, could be—well—it.

But Jonah didn’t appear ready to quell.  Instead he turned to Nolan with a soft smile.  “My thoughts exactly.”  He said quietly.  “You going to tell her about everything?  How it was almost yours?  The whole thing?”

Nolan frowned.  He hadn’t thought that far ahead.  But, if he leveled with himself, why the hell else would he choose that restaurant?  That is, unless he sort of planned to share that part of his life with someone.  Had he sub-consciously chosen the winery for that reason?  What sense did that make?  Did he want to impress her?  Was it impressive to tell someone: ’See all this?  All this was almost mine…’  Not especially.  Infact, he usually hated to bring it up at all.  Many of the girls he’d dated never knew about it, not even the ones he’d been pretty serious with.  The winery was Len’s, Len deserved it, he ran it well, Len was one of his best friends, he was happy for Len, so what the fuck? 

“I don’t know.”  Nolan said very slowly.  “I can’t seem to keep a single thought to myself around her.  She has this way of looking at me that just, I don’t know, presses the ‘let’s be perfectly open and completely frank’ button.” 

Jonah quirked an eyebrow.

“I told her flat out that she’s the most attractive person I’ve ever met and that I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“Oh boy.  All the cards on the table.”  Jonah remarked, droll and sympathetic.

“I know—real suave.”  Nolan said, bitterly disappointed with himself.

“Love does funny things to people.”  Jonah reasoned.  “And falling in-love?  Forget about it.”

Nolan’s heart flipped and he felt light all over.  “I’ve loved people before.”  He said, trying to figure it all out.

“Sure.”  Jonah said, ready to play sounding-board to help his brother sort through everything.  It certainly wasn’t a role the guy was unaccustomed to.  As a bartender Nolan existed as a listener, a sounding-board, chief confessor, and sympathetic ear.  But when Nolan needed a bartender type back-and-forth, he always went to Jonah.

“I mean, Brenna, right?  I loved Brenna.” 

“Yes.  You did.”  Jonah affirmed.

“We loved eachother.  We were good together.”  Nolan couldn’t understand how he’d lived all this time, had all these relationships, and never felt, in all that time, even a fraction of what the sight and sound and smell of Zahra Keerthani had done to him that afternoon.

“You and Brenna were very good together.”  Jonah agreed pleasantly.

“I could have married Brenna.  We’d have been a good partnership.”  Nolan pressed.

“Sure.”  Jonah said.

But.  Nolan sat there, consternated. 

“But?”  Jonah pushed gently, saying what Nolan was thinking.

“But I was never in-love with her.”  Nolan finished rather numbly.

Jonah didn’t speak, just nodded. 

“Same with Autumn.”  He said, kind of amazed.

Jonah nodded again.  “I thought you might propose to Autumn for a while there.”

“It was an option I was thinking about, but then she met Graham.”  Nolan said, distractedly.  Autumn had come to him, told him that she’d met someone and fallen in love.  She hadn’t lied about it, hadn’t cheated, but she unexpectedly fell head over heels with a nice guy from the business park, and begged him to forgive her, but she just needed to see if Graham was, as she suspected, her soulmate.  Nolan hadn’t been angry at all.  He’d been sad, maybe, but not angry, or jealous, or resentful.  He’d kissed her on the cheek—he cared about her, afterall—and told her to go be happy. 

She’d married Graham a few summers back.  She’d asked Nolan to give a reading at the wedding.  He was genuinely happy for them.

“And Eden, in high school, I loved Eden.”

Jonah laughed.  “Yes Nolan, we’ve established that you have the capacity to love.”  He grinned.  “You’re a good guy.  You care about all the girls you date.  The real question is: Why are you so puzzled right now, in this moment?”  He probed.  “What’s different this time?”  He asked it like he already knew the answer, but wanted to guide Nolan to finding the realization on his own.

Nolan got up from the bench and paced.  He thought better when he paced.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been in-love before.  Ever.  Fallen in love.”

Jonah smiled a sympathetic sort of smile.  “Weightless?  Breathless?  Dazed?  More attracted than you’ve ever been to anybody?

Nolan nodded, wide eyed.

His brother chuckled and looked back out over the playground.

“Genny!” Jonah’s stern voice carried over the playground as if he had a built-in bullhorn.  You don’t survive as an elementary school teacher without learning to project over the cacophony of a crowd of kids shrieking and laughing and gabbing away, and you don’t cut it as an elementary school teacher unless when you do speak you can do it with authority.  Even Nolan froze, and he’d bet plenty of other kids, whose names weren’t Genny, did so as well.  “We don’t climb up the slide.  Slides are for sliding down.”  He impressed firmly.  Nolan glanced over, watched his niece carefully turn around on the inclined plane, sit her bottom down, and swoosh to the end, looking properly chastised.  “Thank you.”  Her father called, but his subtext was ‘that’s better, young lady.’

Nolan smiled a ghost of a smile.  “How did you know?  With Velvet.  How did you know?”  He was standing behind the bench so he could pace, but he held still and watched Jonah’s face carefully for reactions.

“Know?”

“That you wanted…That she was …”  Nolan couldn’t bring himself to say it because he had this funny sense that maybe he’d jinx something, or maybe he was being a total fucking idiot and making a big deal out of something that was an anomaly but not necessarily an indicator of any kind.  He felt a bit like a lunatic even thinking about marrying someone he’d met just over an hour ago, let alone speaking the certifiable notion aloud.

Jonah showed him mercy, didn’t make him say it.  “The minute, and I mean the very minute I laid eyes on her that day, I thought she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen in my life.”  He said, completely unashamed of how sappy he sounded.  Well, and it wasn’t like the entire town wouldn’t largely agree with him, Velvet was, and always had been, an exceptional beauty. 

“But.  Love?”  Nolan braced his hands on the back of the bench and leaned over it a little, stretching his hamstrings just to keep busy.

“I think I fell in love with her in the same moment.”  He said.  “Our circumstance is tied into all that high drama though—“  He reminded Nolan.  “I was walking away from the sight of her husband having a very public affair, and she was about to stumble blindly upon it.”  Jonah shook his head.  “Then, when it all, when everything happened and she needed someone...”  He went quiet. 

“Dadeeeeeeeeeeee-ee!”  Shrieked Viola from the sandbox. 

Jonah looked over sharply.  “What is it Button?”

“Oohk!”  She pointed to an amorphous pile of sand in front of her, decorated with a green plastic shovel, stuck in at a weird angle, and sprinkled liberally with grass she’d torn up from the area beside the sandbox.  She was glowing with pride.

“Oh, that’s beautiful.”  He told her effusively.  “Did you build that?”

She nodded emphatically and made a happy ‘hnnnnnnn’ sound about it.  Then she began a round of applause for the accomplishment.  Jonah and Nolan both responded automatically, adding their more adept applause to her enthusiastic splayed-finger clapping, and complimented her work warmly.

“Haii!”  She added when she was satisfied with the applause and praise.

“Hi!”  The brothers replied on cue.

She waved and happily went back to her task, which now involved demolishing the sculpture she’d just built to make way for something new.

“So you just…knew?”  Puzzled Nolan quietly.  He needed more.  This was all so fucking nebulous.  Jonah Shrugged and gave a nod.  “But.”  ERRG!   This was wildly frustrating.  “How?  What did it feel like?”

Jonah tucked his chin to his chest and ‘hmphed’ in thought.  “Like it was my right.”  He answered carefully, his mind working to translate the feelings he’d had close to a decade previous.  “To touch her, to hold her—my duty and responsibility to protect her and defend her honor.”  Jonah ran an index finger back and forth under his chin.  “It felt…perfectly right to touch her, to kiss her, to be with her, despite the fact that until that moment we had been strangers.”  His brother’s purple eyes looked up.  “But, exciting and intoxicating, nevertheless.”

Nolan broke the gaze and set to pacing again while he processed this.  While he tried to apply Jonah’s experience to his own, tried to measure his encounter to Jonah’s rubric, Jonah got up, had some words with one of the twins on the playground (looked like he was making her apologize to some little black boy for some offense she’d caused.), and when he came back he had a teary-eyed red head with him.

“Five minutes, Vienna Rue.”  He said in his best no-nonsense voice.  “I know you heard me tell your sister ‘no climbing up the slide’.”

“But no fair!  Uhcause, how come she doesn’t have time out, and how come I do, cuz she did it too.”  The girl whined, fighting off sobs.

“Why?”  Jonah rephrased automatically.  “Because, luckily for her, she didn’t hurt anybody.”  He explained patiently.  “You broke the rules and someone got hurt.”  He settled her on the bench and looked into her face.  “Do you understand?”  He asked her gently.  She huffed and swiped under her nose and crossed her arms across her chest, but then she nodded.  “Good.”  He said, cupping her face in the palm of his hand.  “That’s why we have rules—so people won’t get hurt.  You break the rules and you put other people in danger.”

“I said I was sorry!”  She exclaimed miserably.  She looked ready to fly into a tirade.

Jonah tilted his head and fixed her with a warning expression until she appeared to have calmed down.  “You did apologize.”  He conceded.  “And that was the right thing to do, but saying sorry doesn’t make it hurt less, does it?”  He asked. 

She pouted and refused to answer.

“Does your head hurt any less when Grey apologizes after he’s pulled your hair?” 

She shook her head and slumped against the back of the bench, defeated and dejected.

Jonah decided to leave it at that.  “Five minutes.”  He said, and moved around the bench to stand by Nolan.  “So.”  He said quietly.  “How do you feel?”

“I almost kissed her.”  Nolan said, a mixture of amazement and disgust. 

“Almost?”  Jonah said.  “Was the almost because it was a blocked attempt?  Or was it aborted before completion?”

“I got a grip just before I made an ass of myself.”  Nolan answered wryly.  “But I leaned right in without even thinking!”  What was wrong with him?

“How’d she react?”  His brother sounded tickled.

Nolan thought.  “Um.  She looked at me, pretty curious, and she leaned in too.”

“Wow.”

Nolan smiled.  “Did she want me to kiss her?  Should I have kissed her?  That’s crazy.  Right?  I mean, we’d just met.”

Jonah laughed.  “I have never seen you so fraught with insecurity!”  He mused.

Nolan groaned and rolled his head around on his neck, trying to ease the tension that had been mounting there due to all this fretting.  “You know, the way you said that, like you ‘had the right’—“  Nolan paused.  “That’s kinda how it felt for me too.  Or—“  he squinted and searched for a more accurate way of putting it.  “Like I was supposed to.”  He shook his head a little.  That phrasing wasn’t much better.  “I don’t know.  Impelled to?”  He shrugged.  “She said something to me, at one point, and, it sort of rang true—“

“What’s that?”  Jonah asked softly.

“She said: ‘You keep looking at me like we’ve met before’.”  He said reverently.  “And, even though I am certain, dead certain this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on the woman, what she said sort of feels true.  Like I know her, but I don’t know her.  She’s a total mystery, but yet I felt comfortable enough to tell her about Ma and Pops.”  He swallowed and heard Jonah draw a sharp inhale.  “And then that almost-kiss, like, she gets me all turned around, way off my game, I can’t even really think straight around her, but all of a sudden I’m putting the moves on her?  Without planning or, well, without even really being aware of what I was doing?”  He grabbed a hold of his chin and jaw with one hand and stroked the growing stubble, deep in thought.  “Because kissing a girl like that, that would have been moving way too fast, right?”

“I kissed Velvet the day we met.”  He offered.

Nolan nodded.  “It’s hard to compare.”  He said after a moment.  “The circumstances… her world was in turmoil, and you’re both prone to sweeping romance.”

Jonah snorted.  “I was aware, little brother, that I was moving pretty quickly by normal standards.”

“But it felt right?”  Asked Nolan, unsure.

“Felt absolutely right.”

Nolan breathed.  He let his eyes wander around the playground while he struggled to come to terms with what he was experiencing.  He gazed at Genny climbing on the jungle gym, at her twin Vienna, who was glumly watching the other kids with envy.  And he watched Viola, who was tossing her head back and forth and singing a little made-up song as she did her best to scoop sand into a castle-shaped bucket.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life.”  Nolan said, turning to Jonah, the truth of it washing over him as he spoke.

Jonah nodded approvingly.  “Then go after it and don’t give up.”

Nolan smiled.  “This is pretty overwhelming.”

Jonah squeezed his brother’s shoulder affectionately.  “Surrender to it, Nolan.  Let yourself fall.  You won’t regret it.”

Now, pacing as non-chalant-ly as he could manage it, Nolan realized that he’d never even asked for her number.  Didn’t know where she lived.  Hardly knew anything about her, and what he did know could have been made up on the spot.  She might have been having a little sport with him for the hell of it. 

He realized that she might not show up.

The thought made him a little queasy. 

“You clean up real nice, Nolan Delaney.”  Purred a voice from behind him as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time (seven forty).

He spun, unable to remember feeling so relieved before in his life.  She’d shown up.  She hadn’t stood him up.  She was there, at the gazebo, and only about as fashionably late as any woman would be.

“You look like a goddess.”  He said truthfully.

She did.  She was wearing a white dress.  He smiled.  He was going to marry this woman.  He knew it like he knew his own name.  Suddenly he relaxed.  He looked her up and down appreciatively.  She had chosen a perfect dress to flatter her figure and complement her coloring.  The crisp white of the breezy fabric showed her rich, dark brown skin to full advantage.  The cut of the dress hugged in all the right places and fell loose and flowy just where you’d want it to.  The top was fitted around her generous chest, accenting the full, round curves beautifully; and it was a v-neck, much to his satisfaction—her cleavage was mouthwatering, but in no way immodest or too graphic.  Her breasts looked natural and womanly, not pushed together in a pornographic way like many women liked to do to impress. 

The waist of the dress started right below her bust line and was a wide swath of silver and crystal beading that hugged her ribcage and dazzled the eyes.  Then the skirt billowed down, loose and breezy and ending just below her knees, accented with that silver and crystal beading.  It had wide, almost gauzy type free-flowing sleeves that gathered under her elbow. 

She’d pulled her hair up loosely, much of it gathered into an organic sort of chignon at the back of her neck; it looked full and soft and incredibly sensual.  Nolan wondered how on earth she managed to get all that thick, wavy hair to defy the laws of gravity like that. 

“Which one?”  She challenged with a challenging eyebrow raised.

He frowned.  Which goddess? “Not the one in charge of punctuality.”  He said with an equally challenging eyebrow.

She chuckled.  “Did I make you sweat a little?”

He started toward her slowly.  “A little.”

She put a hand on her waist, the other swung her small silver purse playfully.  “Afraid I wouldn’t show?”

He came to rest in front of her, a little closer than maybe was conventionally done on a first date, but he wanted to smell her again.  Yes, definitely cinnamon.  And tea-tree oil.  And lavender, now—maybe she used lavender soap?  And a hint of cardamom?  “I was afraid you weren’t real.”  He breathed, savoring the scent of her, and soaking in her perfect features, now that he was up close.

She wore more make-up than she’d had on that afternoon.  The kohl around her eyes was heavier and it made Nolan think of exotic stories he’d read as a child.  Her lips were stained with a slightly darker, more womanly tinted gloss.  She wore some blush, calling due attention to her impeccable bone structure and full cheeks.  And the shadows she chose for her eyes combined smoke and light, playing up her heavy lids and the captivating size of them.  The overall effect was quite stunning.

They searched one another’s eyes wordlessly for a moment, both smiling faintly, looking for answers to questions that couldn’t adequately be voiced in words.

“Ahk!”  Nolan said, surprised by a sharp, firm twist on his upper arm.  He rubbed it as she chuckled.  “Did you just pinch me?”  He asked, not quite believing it.

“Now you know it’s not a dream.”  She explained helpfully.

His lips spread into an open mouthed smile.  “Ah.”  He said, nodding a little.  “Then I should thank you for being so thoughtful.”

“Just looking out for you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I was glad to do it.”

Nolan grinned at her.  She was a little taller this evening, now that she was in shoes with a bit of a heel rather than beach flip flops.  Her new height put her lips even closer to the very kissable range.  He couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from wandering to them.  “You are stunning.”  He said quietly.

Her lips curved into a smile.  “Good.”  She said, and he made a surprised laugh.

“Good?”

“Well, that’s what I was going for—“  She said with a lazy shrug.  “Took me forever to get ready.”  She dazzled him with a wide, white grin.  “Better be worth it after all that!”

He laughed.  He wanted to touch her so badly he ached with the need of it.  Instead he slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, then forward on his toes before re-centering his weight squarely. 

“I owe myself twenty bucks.”  She added, looking him over unashamedly.

He liked her looking.  He’d spent a long time getting ready too.  It felt good to be appreciated so thoroughly.  “You bet yourself I wouldn’t be here waiting?”  He guessed.

“Psshh.”  She made a dismissive sound.  “I knew you’d be here.”  They smiled at one another.  “No.  Five for the tie—thought for sure you’d wear one.”  Fuck.  He’d gone back and forth on that for a good ten minutes.

“I can put one on—I brought one—“

She laughed.  “Look, I didn’t say I was hoping you’d wear one.  I just kinda, predicted you might be the more conservative type.”

“Didn’t feel right for a summer night.”  He confessed.

“Agreed.”  She said.  “My cousin was all over me for not wearing a ‘little black dress’.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Every woman knows you wear a little black dress for the first date.  Or, if you’re going to put out, you wear red.”

He gaped and then laughed deeply.  He felt a flush creeping up his neck.  “You couldn’t look more perfect.”  He told her, relieved that the candid tone of it saved it from being completely cheesy.  He offered her his arm.  “Let’s walk and talk.  I parked by the antique store.”

She transferred her purse the other hand and slid her arm under and onto his.  Even through his sport coat and shirt he could feel that balance-knocking, perception-rattling electricity that she had.  His very bones began to buzz.  “You smell good.”  She said as they began to stroll away from the gazebo in the warm, rich colors of the fading summer sun and the cool mystery of the ever-lengthening shadows cast by the tree trunks and branches of the park.

“So do you.”  He responded low.

“Well, I showered.”

He chuckled.  “Me too.”

“We could have conserved water if we’d done it together.”  She joked.

“Ah.”  He said ruefully.  “I should have offered.”  He made a play of smacking himself lightly on the forehead.  “From now on, you’re welcome to save the planet by showering with me.”

He loved the sound of her laugh.  It made his blood feel electrically charged, and warmed him through like a hot cocoa after skiing.  Maybe an ‘Irish’ hot cocoa… because it wasn’t quite as wholesome as Swiss Miss.

“I care about mother earth.”  She said with a playful edge. 

“Hmm.”  His laugh melted into a pleasant hum.  “So five bucks for the tie.  I agonized over that.”

She laughed appreciatively.  “Five for the tie.”  She listed.  “Five for the stubble.”  She said with a flirty lift to the words.

Shit!  He’d debated that, too!  He almost always shaved for a first date.  Fuck.  “That, I’m afraid, would be more difficult for me to change at this stage.”  He fretted, but did his best to sound flirty right back.

“Open collar, no tie, and roguishly unshaven?”  She said in an evaluating tone.  “Nolan Delaney, you look a bit like a rake.”

He laughed.  Again he felt a flushing creeping up to the back of his scalp.  His ears felt a little hot.  “A rake.”  He mulled as they crossed from the park to the charming, quaint row of shops in heart of downtown Cedar Falls.  “Well.  It was a gamble, with the facial hair.”  He confessed.  “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that.” When she spoke her voice pulsed low and thick.  “What girl doesn’t want a bit of a rake?”

He gave her a sidelong glance.  “Looks can be deceiving  Miss Keerthani.”  He said gently.  “I’m a gentleman.”

She waved a hand, her silvery beaded purse swinging gaily from her wrist as the walked.  “Oh obviously—you open doors, you hold chairs, you help a lady to her feet.  You’ve got gentlemen embedded in your DNA!”  Her hand on his arm gave a little squeeze and he felt it much lower.  “I didn’t say I was hoping you were a lothario.  Just a bit of a rake.”  She chuckled to herself lightly.  “Just enough to make me tingle, but not so much that I have to keep my rape whistle handy.”

“Jesus.”  He laughed.  He felt like his smile would split his face.  They turned onto Centre Street, where he’d parked.  Many of the boutiques and shops were already closed for the evening; others would stay open until eight.  Very few were open past nine on weeknights.  Some shoppers passed by them.  Nolan caught a whiff of fresh bread from one passerby’s stout brown paper bag.  He loved this street.

“I love this street.”  Zahra echoed his thoughts aloud.

“My favorite one in town.”  He said, a little in awe of their synchronicity.  “Most people say they like the Parkway best.”

“Or Riverside.”  She topped.

“And the Ridge Road is pretty stunning.”  He added fairly.

“But this one.”  She said.  He glanced sideways in time to watch her close her eyes and smile a soft, private smile.  When they opened again she looked right up at him.  She didn’t seem surprised to find him looking at her. 

“This one’s perfect.”  He finished.  Their gaze held until he needed to pay attention to where they were walking.  A business woman mother with a babbling toddler in a stroller and a well-attired older child walking alongside were heading their way.  Nolan and Zahra moved to one side to allow for the little family to pass on the other.  Smiles and nods all around. 

“You could’ve parked closer to the park—“  She said thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry—do your feet hurt?”  He looked with some concern at her very sexy silver strappy shoes. 

She made a short laugh.  “I’m just wondering if maybe you parked over here on purpose—because you like this street.”

His face went serious.  “That’s exactly why I parked here.”  He told her bluntly.  “Plus I wanted time to walk with you.”

“So Nolan Delaney plans ahead.”  She assessed.

“Sometimes.”  He said.  “And sometimes, apparently, I walk up to women I’ve never met and ask them to dinner without even getting their name first.”

She grinned.  “Don’t want to get too bogged down in planning.”  She said generously.

He quickly counted how many shops till they would reach his car.  “Okay, so I’ve cost you ten dollars so far.  How about the other ten?”

She sighed.  “Well the first two surprised me but didn’t disappoint.”  She said. He grinned. “The other two…” Uh-oh. 

Oh god.  He’d already fucked up?  He swallowed and tried not to tense up too much.  She might feel it under her hands if he went too stiff.  He did his best to stay cool.  “Well, by all means, tell me how I’ve offended and I’ll do anything in my power to correct it.”

“Well, frankly, I had you pegged for the type who’d have flowers.”  She said, matter-of-fact.

His eyebrows lifted.  “You want a rake who comes bearing bouquets?”  He teased lightly.

She clucked her tongue.  “Women are complicated and often contradictory, Nolan Delaney.  Don’t fight it; learn to love it and honor it.”  Her playfully lecturing tone made him laugh once again.

They neared his car and he slowed them to a stop.  “Well, good news for you, then.”  He said charmingly as he extricated his arm from her grasp and held up a hand as if to say: ‘Wait here!’  She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes skeptically, a small smile curling about her lips, despite how hard she was trying to look serious.

He bounded over to the vehicle, opened the back door and retrieved the purchase he’d made at Posy just before he’d headed up to the park to wait.  “Now you only owe yourself fifteen.”  He said with a pleased smile as he rejoined her on the wide sidewalk.

Her eyes lingered on the single flower for a long moment, her beautiful mouth relaxed, her face soft and open.  When she didn’t speak and didn’t reach for it, he began to experience a nervous tickling under his ribcage.  Like every decision he’d made in preparation for their date this evening, he’d spent a good deal of time and thought and energy on this choice.  He usually went with a single rose.  Tonight he’d veered from routine because the roses just didn’t feel right.  His gut had pulled him back to this bloom again and again until he finally had to take the chance.

He wondered, now, looking at it, if maybe it could be construed as too suggestive.  He didn’t know too much about flowers, he knew as much as someone in the catering and hospitality business should know, but he didn’t know, like Jonah did, all the symbolism and history and deeper meaning bullshit.  Now he was worried.  He knew he should have called his brother.

It was a long-ish flower, on a long, solid stalk of a stem, sort of tubular, like a funnel for a few inches before its two smooth halves curled gently outward and upward, opening up like half a bell, revealing a hollow center where an elongated little yellow center nestled.  They came in a variety of colors.  Enid, the shop owner, had tried to persuade him to go with the ‘classic white’.  But he’d been drawn to this one.  It was a honeyed sangria red on the outside and opened to a warm golden yellow-orange on the inside.  Enid had dressed it up simply with a delicate gauzy silver ribbon curving along the stem.  Oh.  How fortuitous—it matched the details on her outfit!  That was lucky.  He’d agreed to the silver because he figured it would be neutral and not offensive.  It had worked out better than he could have expected.

But looking at the flower now, the bifurcating lips, the seductive opening.  He blushed.  This was a suggestive looking flower.  Christ.  Why the fuck hadn’t he seen that in the store? Especially since he’d chosen to go with the warm, earthy color palette.  Jesus.  He’d just handed her a vagina on a stem.

Her midnight eyes lifted and bored into his.  His breath evaporated at the intensity of the expression.  She was looking for something.  Oh god.  He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t want to admit he now thought the flower was reminiscent of the female genitalia.  He couldn’t speak.

“What made you choose this?”  She asked, her dusky voice almost tremulous.

He washed over hot and cold.  Good lord, he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he’d fucked up his chance with this woman over a fucking flower.  “You wanted a rose.”  He said dully.

She made a face.  “Roses are boring.”  She retorted.  “What made you choose this one?”

He licked his lips and swallowed.  His throat felt tight.  “I don’t know.”  He confessed, because around her he couldn’t help speaking plainly.  He wanted to say: ‘it made me think of you’, because that was also the truth, but now he was paranoid that she’d think he’d been sending a message about his expectations after dinner, or worse, imagine him leering around a flower shop thinking about her vulva.

“Did you have help?”  She demanded.  He couldn’t tell if she was angry or disgusted or what.  He was glad he hadn’t worn a tie, because he’d have had to loosen it now.

“No—I—Enid, the shop owner, she tried to tell me to get the white one.  But.  She put the ribbon on.  I.”  He swallowed.  “Zahra, I’m sorry, I just saw it and thought it was lovely—I apologize if it sends the wrong message.”  It had just looked so regal and sensual and majestic.  And it was one of the few flowers in there that could really hold its own as a single bloom.  He wasn’t a ‘bouquet’ or a ‘bunch’ kind of guy, not for a date.

She reached up with one hand and he flinched, afraid for a wild moment that he’d offended her gravely enough to earn a slap.  But she placed her hand on his face, her fingers gently resting on his cheek and jaw, and she gazed deep into him.  He begged her with his eyes, pleaded with her to believe that he had had the best of intentions.  His breath was shallow, his heart racing in a minor panic. 

“Nolan Delaney you are a very surprising man, did you know that?”  She purred, wonder shading her rough purr.

He was surprised, that was for sure, but surprising?  “It just felt like the right one.”  He mumbled, unable to look anywhere but in her bewitching, endless dark eyes.  “Please—“

Her thumb stroked over his cheekbone and he shivered hotly in response.  “Do you even know what it’s called?”  She asked with a smile beginning to lift at the corners of her mouth.

Oh fuck.  Wait.  He’d asked.  He liked to know things.  He usually had a memory like a steel trap.  Hold on.  Think Delaney, think!  Um.  “It’s a lily.”  He said, knowing that there was something more to it.  It didn’t look at all like the lilies he was used to seeing at events, and it didn’t have that overpowering lily fragrance that always put him in mind of wakes and funeral parlors.  He hadn’t wanted to get her anything that would distract his nose from the scent of her.

“It’s a Calla Lily.”  She supplied softly.

Yes.  That was it.  Calla Lily. 

“And they’re my favorite.”  She finished simply.

He was so relieved he let out a shuddery breath and laughed.  “Holy god, I thought the date was over for a minute there.”  He spoke aloud what he should probably have kept to himself.

She grinned and patted his face playfully before removing it from his face and finally taking the flower from him.  “No one’s ever just given me a calla lily before, not without me telling them that they’re my favorite.”  She said.  “And the colors—“  She stopped herself. 

He was too relieved to wonder overlong at the sudden stop.  “Yeah, I guess, in hindsight the white one would have gone with your dress.  But at least the silver matches!”  He was fucking giddy as hell.  He took a few deep breaths to try and get a hold of himself. 

“No.”  She breathed, handling the lily as if it were precious.  “This is the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”  He stared at her.  So far she’d proven to be very sassy, even flippant.  In that moment she sounded soft and vulnerable and he had the feeling that he was seeing behind the cavalier armor she usually wore.  It affected him. 

She felt his eyes on her and seemed to realize she’d lifted the curtain there, and she grinned.  “You did good Delaney.”  She teased, back to her confident, challenging self.  “And you saved me five bucks I would have owed myself.  Nice work.”

He smiled.  “Wanna tell me about the last five?”  He asked, stepping around her and over to the passenger side of his car.  He waited for her to saunter over before opening the door.  She didn’t get in right away.  Instead she stood close to him.  She smelled so, so good to him.

“Yeah.”  She said, flirty again.  “You let me down, fella.”

“Really?”  He asked, willing to play now that he’d escaped the flower debacle.

“Yeah.”  She said, nodding slowly.  “When I saw myself in the mirror tonight—“  She breathed, letting her voice get very soft and low and hot.  “I said to myself: Damn, Zahra.  You look so good—I bet that Nolan Delaney won’t be able to help himself; I bet he’ll kiss you before you even get in the car.”

Nolan’s lips parted and his eyes widened.

“Guess I’m about to lose that one too.”  She said with a wink, and started to move to climb into the seat.

He stopped her by placing his hands on the sides of her shoulders.  She allowed him to turn her body to his.  He searched her eyes for a moment.  She was lying, about the last part of the bet.  She had just said it to bait him.  “Well we can’t have that.”  He murmured as he slid his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, his thumbs grazing the delicate skin over her collar bone, up her long neck and finally coming to rest gently, but still somewhat possessively on either side of her face.

Her lips parted in anticipation as he watched them hungrily, and he smiled.  He flicked his gaze back up to her eyes and smoldered.  He wasn’t sure, but he might have heard a ghost of a gasp.  Nolan Delaney knew how to be a bit of a rake when he wanted to be. 

And then he closed the distance between them and met his lips to hers.

Love at First Sight; part 2

They walked side by side-ish through the baking summer sand away from the laskeshore and toward the bustling row of shops and eateries lining the boardwalk.  He carried her large beach bag, like he’d said he would, she had her purse.  They didn’t say much for a few minutes, just kept sneaking smiles at one another and laughing a little.

He was ridiculously good looking.  When he’d come over, when he’d approached her, Zahra had been saying every prayer she knew that he’d be tolerable.  ‘Just don’t let him be an asshole!’  She’d begged.  ‘Please don’t let him be a conceited, macho, egotistical jerk!’  She’d stipulated wildly.  ‘Just this once let a guy be good looking and also not a complete tool, and I swear I’ll do all good deeds all the time for a year!’

So far, if knowing him for fifteen minutes was any indication, it looked like Zahra would be helping out at the soup kitchen and volunteering at the animal shelter.  She wasn’t ready to make a decision yet.  He wasn’t so long on conversation… good thing that smile of his helped her forgive a lot.

“Listen buddy,”  She said with a fair amount of sass as they neared the end of the sand and the beginning of sidewalk.  “Let me remind you that this was your big idea; it isn’t my job to keep the conversation going here, alright?”  She was busting his balls and he smiled ruefully.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s…”  He searched the air in front of them for help, but nothing seemed to be coming.  He let out a little puff of air and seemed to just seize on the truth—he seemed to be in the habit of doing this.  It was a refreshing change from most men she’d met.  Usually when they went all thoughtful they came out with some really obvious Don Juan bullshit.  When this guy struggled to find the right words, he ended up just speaking the truth.  It made butterflies lift and dance in her belly.  “Making conversation’s never really been a problem for me before.”  The poor fella looked genuinely baffled, but not altogether upset about it.

“Well, Nolan Delaney—“  She said, teasing him with his very name because she liked to see him smile and because she liked the sound of his name on her tongue.  “It seems I’m not meeting you on your best day, hnn?”

His eyebrows lifted and fell as he studied the white-striped ground at the crosswalk as they waited for a chance to cross safely.  “Actually, I think you might just be.”  He said with a hopeful sort of importance.  Then he chanced a glance at her, turned those stormy blue-gray killers on her and she read the meaning as clear as a neon sign.

Her lips made something like an ‘o’, but only barely, and only just for a second because he’d caught her so thoroughly off guard.  Was this guy for real?  She searched those eyes, they looked like the sea in a tempest; powerful, mysterious, deep, layered, sexy as hell…  Then she had to look away if she was going to keep her wits about her.  The traffic had stopped and the clusters of chatting people around them began to cross.  She nodded and stepped down off the tall sidewalk and into the crossing lane.  “Well.”  She said, using that candidly flirty tone she wore best.  “That set my little heart a flutter, so I guess I’ll give you a break.”

He laughed richly and her nipples reacted as if he’d addressed them specifically.  Down, girls, down.  Sheesh.  It was the kind of laugh you’d want to hear every day.  Over breakfast, or maybe after work while you lounged together, lazy in a warm bath for two…  C’mon Zahra, get a grip, be cool.

“I appreciate it—more than you know.”  He said with sincerity.

She shrugged and flashed him one of her best smiles.  His feet tripped up a little as he stared at her and she hid the chuckle she couldn’t help in response.  “Ok.”  She said, taking charge.  “How about this: We’ll take turns, asking each other questions, playing getting-to-know-you and what not; that way neither one of us feels pressured to steer.”  It sounded both reasonable and like a fun little game the way she phrased it.  “Sound agreeable?”

He pretended to mull it over but ruined the effect with that giddy grin that kept breaking his attempts at casual cool.  “That sounds very equitable.”  He said approvingly.

She made a pleased sound in her throat.  “And, since you’re having an ‘off’ day, for whatever reason—“  She slipped him a sly look and the earnest expression he gave her stole a little of her breath there for a second.  Damn, he was cute.  “I’ll help you out by going first.”

“That would be a help, thank you.” 

She chuckled at how frank he was, and marveled that such a thing was actually working better as a flirting technique than all the suave, practiced bullshit that she encountered everywhere else.  They strolled at their own leisurely pace down the boardwalk.  She noted that they’d already passed two places that sold iced coffee.  Maybe she’d remind the poor sap before the shops dwindled away… or maybe she’d just let them walk wherever their feet carried them.

“Ok then.”  She said with a go-gettum voice.  “Here goes.”  She licked her lips, thought for a moment and then proceeded.  “It’s the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, and you are apparently free both day and evening—tell me Nolan Delaney, what do you do for a living that allows for such leisure?  Or have I discovered that one fatal flaw that makes you un-dateable?  You’re gorgeous, got a great smile, seem pretty sweet, but alas, you’re unemployed.”

Nolan smiled humbly at their feet as they walked.  “As fate would have it, I happen to find myself with a rare free day from both my jobs.”  He answered.

Oooh, not unemployed but doubly employed.  Interesting.  She guessed that’s how he could spring for dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town. “Isn’t that lucky for us.”  She teased.

“Very.”  He replied without pretense.

Wow.  “Ok, well then, what are your two jobs?—I’m not cheating, this is still part of my original question.”

He chuckled and nodded.  “Of course.”  He agreed. “Well, I tend bar, I’m a bartender—“  he began, and checked to see her reaction.

She could have laughed to see how antsy and unsure he was.  She nodded gently and smiled genuinely.  She didn’t tell him what she was thinking—that young, good-looking bartenders were one of her biggest turn-ons.  But she hoped he could read in her eyes that she didn’t think less of him for having a service job.  She took a half a moment to insert this man’s face and body into one of her go-to fantasies involving a bar-top after closing, body shots, and that spritzer hose they used for water and soda and stuff.  She licked her lips again and tossed her long, thick hair over her shoulder, trying to stir a breeze around the back of her neck, which was suddenly uncomfortably hot.  Wooh. “A barkeep.”  She said evenly.  “And what else, or do you bartend for two different places?”

He looked ahead of them curiously.  Then he slowed and looked behind them.  They’d passed two more coffee places.  She repressed her amusement and managed to look at him with a perfectly neutral mask.  “You like Deja Brew?”  He asked.

“Sure.”  They’d be able to really sit down in there—it was larger than a lot of the other places, and it had a decent area of outdoor seating with umbrella tables overlooking the view of the falls and the lake and the river. 

It was also one of the few coffee joints left on the street that they had yet to pass by.

He nodded decisively and resumed his pace.  “Ok.”  He said, seeming to get back into the answering-personal-questions headspace.  “So I’m a bartender, and. I also work as the Sommelier for The Riverside Bistro.”  He said it kind of like the verbal equivalent of tearing off a band-aid.

She smirked.  He didn’t want to sound like a pretentious asshole.  No, better, he didn’t want to be a pretentious asshole.  Soup kitchens, animal shelters, and add to that nursing homes, tutoring, and, food pantry, and, oh boy the list just kept on growing.

“Mmmm.  A sommelier.”  She purred.  Then she let it hang in the air, waiting to see if he’d be a dick and start explaining what the word was to her.  He did not.

“Yeah.”  He responded, sounding a mite uncomfortable.

“I’ve never met a sommelier before.”  She said thoughtfully.  Still he didn’t jump at the bait, didn’t hop on the opportunity to be condescending and teach her what his rarified profession entailed.  She decided she liked Nolan Delaney very much.  “I mean, other than in a professional context, of course.”

He gave her a small smile and a curious look. 

“And I’ve never met a sommelier who looked like you.”  She said, running her eyes over him from head to toe unabashedly.

He glowed at the appraisal.  “Well I’ve never had a patron who looked like you.”  He responded, sounding less like a lecher than other men could have managed.  The way he said it, it was sweet.  And just a touch hot.  And his eyes wandered over her form appreciatively, but didn’t linger, and came back, as if pulled by powerful magnets, to her face.  She rewarded him with a wink and a chuckle.

She wanted to take this man back to her apartment right that minute.  That was dangerous thinking.  Better to keep playing the game.

He slowed once again and turned to face their destination.  She was pleased that he opened the door for her and even more pleased when he asked her to choose where they sat and then held her chair for her.  Who does that anymore?  Someone had raised him right.

He went up and got their coffees, as well as a couple of croissants to nibble on.  When he settled into his seat, not quite next to her, but not quite opposite her either, she had formulated a plan of attack. 

“Ok, so I’m going to tell you my impression of what a sommelier does and you can tell me if I’m hot or cold, okay?”

He nodded and swirled the ice in his coffee.  “Okay.  Shoot.”

She made a show of squaring her shoulders and arranging herself in a very business-like posture.  She watched his lips twitch and heard him sniff with amusement.  “Alright.”  She began, making her eyes as enchanting as she could manage.  “A sommelier is the person who, at very fancy restaurants, comes over to the table, who isn’t your waiter or the water boy, and chats with you about what you think you might order.”

Nolan looked amused, but didn’t comment, just nodded to indicate that she was right so far.

“Good.  So then he considers what you’re having for dinner, mulls it over, and spouts off a list of wine selections that he thinks should pair well with your meal—mesh with the flavor profile and all that.”

He looked pleasantly surprised.  “Yes.” 

“And from what I can tell, he takes into account a variety of different factors.  Meal choice, obviously, but price point—how much the client is looking to shell out for a bottle—“  He pursed his lips, trying to smother that insouciant grin, but unable to do anything about that dazzling twinkle in his storm-tossed eyes.  “And then, I imagine he’s gotta size the people up personality wise too.  Are they adventurous or conservative? Old-school or hipster? Would they be happier with something that dovetailed smoothly with their courses, or do they want something that brings its own dimension to the experience?”

Now his smile was gone and he looked dumbfounded.

“Hot or cold?”  She asked in a low, electric voice.  She knew she was right.  She’d read a romance novel once where the hero was into wine big time.  Who knew that trash would come in handy?

“That is an incredibly accurate assessment of what I do.”  He marveled.

“Do you order the wine too?  Decide which labels the bistro carries?”

“I do.”  He answered, still clearly reeling from her on-point summation of his life’s work.  Thanks, trashy beach fiction! 

“Have you tasted all of them?”  She asked, pretty enthralled by such an exotic sort of career. 

“All of—all the wines we carry at the restaurant?”  He asked. She nodded, rapt.  “Yes.”

“Really?” 

He gave a hint of smile.  “Yes.  Well, one of every bottle that we have, yes.  I have to.”

“And you know what they all taste like.”  She demanded, unable to fathom it.

“Yes.”

She made a face.  “Do you, I mean, do you have notes on them or something?  To keep them straight?”

There were those perfect teeth again, what a smile.  “I have notes, yeah.”  He said tentatively.  “I mean, I have a pretty good memory for it, but I make notes for the servers, you know?  When I’m not there, in-house, the servers are the ones who have to make the recommendations.” 

Fascinating.  “Yeah, I was going to ask how you managed to be a sommelier and a bartender all at once—they both seem like evening jobs.”

He nodded.  “Yeah, well, bars are open earlier than you’d think, and close later than the restaurant too, but actually, I only work as ‘on-duty’ sommelier on the hot nights: Friday, Saturday and most Sundays.  Other than that the servers just follow my guide and the rest of my work-- the ordering, maintaining the cellar, all that can be done in the morning as necessary.” 

Zahra sipped her coffee.  She liked it creamy and a little sweet.  He’d had them throw vanilla and caramel in there.  She was loving it.  Maybe she’d order it like this for herself next time.

“Have you tried all the dishes, then?”  She asked, finding herself more curious about him then she should be.

He nodded.

She leveled a skeptical look at him.  “Every single one?”

“It’s my job to know what they taste like—“  He explained humbly.

“So it’s more than just: Fish and poultry get white, dark meat gets red.”  She said.  “You’re talking complex layers, various combinations, in-depth analysis, really getting down in the trenches, huh?”

He examined a little lady bug as it made its unconcerned progress across their shaded bistro table.  “If I’m doing my job right.”  He said quietly.

She took advantage of his averted eyes to really look at him.  He had dark brown hair, full and healthy, and cut in a classic but not conservative style that suited this young gentleman vibe he had going.  It maybe had a little wave to it if he let it get long, maybe, and it was just barely on the fashionably mussed side, though that was more likely because he’d been out in the wind and the summer sun playing volleyball, and also because he had the adorable tendency of running his fingers through his hair while he thought or when he was flustered.  He didn’t seem at all vain, but he was quite well groomed.  His eyebrows were well in order, something plenty of men ignored as a matter of masculine pride, and though he had stubble it wasn’t too much and it wasn’t unruly.  It suited him.  The dark dusting highlighted the strong cut of his jaw and chin, and added dimension to the classically sculpted planes of his face.  He could be a catalogue model.  She wouldn’t mind seeing him in his boxers and socks, flashing that irresistible smile and letting his eyes crinkle up with laughter. 

She’d bet he shaved for his job at the bistro, but maybe didn’t bother so much for the bartending gig.  She wondered if he’d be crisply shaven for their date that evening.

He had a long, straight, almost proud nose and its proportions were perfectly balanced in his face.  It was a good nose.  Of course the eyes.  Don’t get her started.  And then, she let her eyes wander to his lips.  In this quiet moment of comfortable silence, as he watched the lady bug and she sipped her coffee drink, his lips were relaxed, free of the smiles that had been playing around across his mouth all afternoon.  They were god-like, those lips.  She’d bet they’d be talented too.  He had a mouth that looked capable of giving a lot of pleasure.

She wasn’t surprised that she was attracted to yet another white man.  It was irritatingly easy to be, since she’d grown up inundated with the Hollywood standards of beauty all around, from Disney to daytime tv, from news anchors to cinema, to commercials, to those damn catalogues in which he’d fit so well.

What she was surprised by, was that he was so obviously attracted to her.  That didn’t happen as often, in her experience.  Sure, plenty of guys seemed to have few objections to her large breasts and curvy backside, but in the end she wasn’t the petite ideal that current trends dictated was desirable.  And she was quite dark-skinned.  It seemed that white guys liked a touch of exotic in their sexual palette, but if she had a dollar for everytime one of her lighter-skinned Indian girl-friends got the guy over her, she’d have a sizeable little nest-egg saved up.  Her mother had spent years smearing yogurt on her dark skin in hopes of lightening Zahra a few shades closer to the aesthetic paragon most Indian women yearned for—that creamy pale caramel that the Bollywood stars exemplified.  Summer after summer Zahra would be made to lather on layer upon layer of sunblock, urged to keep to the shade, wear enormous hats and play indoors for fear that she’d get ‘too dark’.

It had made her terribly self-conscious as a kid, and she’d gone through her adolescence praying to the gods to make her skin lighter—no doubt joining with the silent prayers of her mother and aunts and grandmother.

Then, for no reason that she could pin down, when she got to college she rebelled against the ‘lighter is better’ mindset and cast off the years of guilt and shame and fretful little beauty rituals for the anglification of her chocolaty Indian skin.  She took a lot of courses in female studies, and she took some art history courses, and some anthropology and gradually her mother’s old-fashioned notions of beauty held less and less sway over her.

And she began to enjoy the summer instead of dreading it.  Began to relish the way the sun warmed up her burnt-honey complexion.  She learned how to use makeup that worked with her natural coloring rather than try to correct it.

And she embraced her curves at last, too, instead of resenting them.

In short, she became a happier person.  She also discovered that the new Zahra, the one with the curves and the dark skin, and the confidence?  She liked sex, a lot.  A lot more than the old Zahra had, and now she was learning that she was pretty damned good at it when given the chance.

But it still sort of hurt when guys opted for the toffee over the chocolate.  And it still surprised the heck out of her when anyone actually found her attractive.  And Nolan Delaney most certainly found her attractive.  And, she got the sense that he found her attractive period.  Not found her attractive despite…  A peculiar but important little difference that meant a great deal to Zahra.

She smiled to herself.  And she was glad that he didn’t seem like the creepy type who found her attractive because of.  She’d been with a couple of those kinds of guys.  They tended to get really weird in the bedroom, and not in a fun way.  They had some deep rooted issues and liked to suggest things like choke-collars and chains and even master-slave roleplays.  She’d always said sure, if they wanted to be the slave.  None of them seemed too happy about that reversal.  One guy had even asked one time if she could please ‘tremble like a native virgin girl’ as he ‘overwhelmed’ her with his ‘sophisticated prowess’.  Yeah.  That evening had ended real quick.  He was a professor at CFU, come to think of it…

And neither did he, Nolan, seem like the kind of curious adventurer who fancied she could teach him all the positions in the Kama Sutra.  Not that she wouldn’t be happy to—if he proved interested.  She’d been practicing some of the more intriguing ones.  A languid, sly smile curled her lips at the thought of him performing some of those acts with her…

“My turn?”  He asked at last. 

Whoops.  She’d been caught off in la-la land.  “That’s the rules.”  She teased.

“Where are you from?”  He asked, sounding like it was some huge puzzle.  Sounding more like he’d meant: ‘Where’d you come from?!’

She made a face.  “Really?”

He looked worried.  “Yeah—“

“If there was some cataclysm, right now, and we got separated, and you had to look back on this moment, you want the one thing you asked me to be ‘so where’re you from?’”

He ran a hand through his hair and pushed out a gust of air in a whoosh.  “It’s just, I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before today.”  Aww.  “And, hey, your question was essentially: ‘so what do you do?’; so watch where you’re throwing stones.”  He was beginning to tease back.  That was a good sign.

She conceded the point with an open palm and a you-got-me-there kind of laugh.

“Ok.  Fine.”  She said, playing at begrudging.  “Where am I from.”  She took a sip of the cool drink and swallowed.  “I was born and raised right here in beautiful Cedar Falls.”  She said smoothly.

He shook his head disbelievingly.  “How is that possible?”

She laughed.  “Well my folks are both doctors, so they can afford it.”  She teased.

“No, no, I didn’t—“

“Relax, I know what you meant, I’m just messing with you.”

He looked relieved. 

“I was shipped off to private school upstate for all of junior high and high school.”  She offered helpfully.

“Ok.”  He said slowly.  “College?”

“I didn’t go to CFU, I went in the city.”  She liked the way his skin tanned nicely.  “Then I spent a year in India, lived in the city with some college friends after that for a while, and, now I’m back.”  She finished with a shrug.

“Alright.”  He was starting to understand that the fates had conspired to keep her hidden from him all these years.  That it wasn’t his fault.  He hadn’t overlooked her.  This seemed to comfort him and she couldn’t help but laugh as she watched his expression change—so easy to read. 

“How old are you?”  He rushed to follow up.

“Uhn-uhn, Guy Friday, we’re taking turns here.”

He looked properly chastised.

“Besides, you seem like the type of guy who knows better than to ask a lady her age, weight, or political persuasion.”

His lips pulled to the side.  “You’re right.  Apologies.  Please.  Ask away.”

She tossed her head to the side with a pleasant smile and gently ripped a corner from one of the croissants.  A little bird hopped about the table hopefully.  She tore her piece in half and gently tossed one to the ground by the bird—not too close to scare him—before popping the other in her mouth.

“Hmmmm.”  She drew out the suspense while she chewed and swallowed and washed it down with another refreshing sip of coffee.  “So how old are you?”  She asked, feeling impossibly impish.

He arched an eyebrow but he seemed in good humor about the double standard.  “Thirty one.”  He watched her reaction closely—to young, too old?  He was like an adorable open book with these expressions of his.  She flicked her eyes to his hands.  Good.  She hadn’t pegged him as the type, but, 31 and not married?

“Do you have a family, Nolan Delaney?”

He narrowed his eyes, looking for all the world like he was going to protest her blatant disregard for the back-and-forth nature of the game she’d established, but then he shrugged and a very different sort of smile transformed his features into something beyond perfect.  “I have a great family.”  He answered simply.

Dammit.  “Tell me about them.”  She figured he must be divorced.  He didn’t seem like the type to break marriage vows, but, hey, this was the modern world, people got divorced all the time.  Maybe he’d married young, been impulsive and romantic, and a couple kids later maybe the bitch cheated on him because she felt as though her youth had been hijacked by motherhood, and probably he’d tried like hell to make things work but in the end if you love someone you have to let them go, and now he was a divorced father with two jobs to help pay alimony and child support and which conveniently left days free for spending time with the little tykes whenever that bitch of an ex-wife let him see them.

“Ok, well I have two brothers, one older and one much younger.” He began, forcing her wild jumped-to-conclusions train to squeal to a grinding halt.  What father ever started with his siblings? She decided to keep her lips locked up for a while and let him tell her whatever he was going to tell her however he chose to tell her.  Then she’d decide what was what.

“Um, our parents died a few years back—“

She gasped a little and made to speak, but settled for an expression of sympathy, which, it seemed like he preferred.

“It was a fire, an accident.  We lost the house we grew up in and, it was really a shock and pretty awful.”  He swallowed hard and looked out over the water.  Zahra stayed quiet.  She would bet money that this didn’t come up on first coffee-dates all that often.  He wore an expression that screamed: ‘Why the fuck am I telling her all this?!’

“But. Um. The silver lining is that my little brother, Caleb, he wasn’t at home—he was supposed to be, but he’d had a fight with Pops, and I said he could sleep over my place, which was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made—we’d have lost him too.”  She saw an involuntary shiver rock him a little and he adjusted his position in the chair, while keeping his eyes out, gazing toward the falls.  “He came to live with me, after, and now he’s in college and still stays with me when he’s not at the dorm.”  His voice washed over warm and fond.

He sighed.  “And my older brother, Jonah, he’s only just older, we’re pretty close, always have been.”  Nolan pulled his eyes from the falls and played a little with his coffee straw.  “He’s married and has, Jesus, five kids now.”  He looked up with a grin.  “Knowing it and saying it are two different things, you know?  It feels perfectly natural, especially when you see them all together, it feels like ‘of course there are this many’, but saying it?  Five?  Sounds like a lot.”

She liked the timbre and cadence his voice was taking as he opened up about his family.  She’d liked the tone he’d had about his wine job because it was kind of sexy and mysterious and humble all at once, but this tone was gentle and intimate and well, almost fuzzy.  Sunday paper in bed, and, curled up on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons fuzzy.

“You like being an uncle?”

He grinned.  “Love it.”  He enthused.  “I’ve always loved kids—my brother went into teaching—and I thought about it, but.  Anyway, yeah, being an uncle is great—they’re always happy to see you, you get to do all the fun stuff with them, get to help out when you’re needed, all that.”  He was thoughtful for a minute, his eyes staring up at the underside of the umbrella above their heads, watching a movie reel or something that was only visible to him.  “When my brother and his wife were first together we all lived in the townhouse and it was.  It was nice.  I helped out with Grey—my nephew—helped raise him, day in and day out for the first few years there till they decided to get a place of their own.”

He was opening the door and letting her right in.  She was enthralled.  “Did you miss them?”

“Hell yeah.”  He said immediately.  “I mean, as much as having a baby and a couple staying in what was essentially your bachelor pad might seem like a pain—it was really…good.  Yeah.  I missed ‘em a lot.  Then they had Avalon, my oldest niece, and I babysat all the time, but it wasn’t the same.”

“You’re all still close, though?”

“Oh, God, yeah.”  He said, nodding emphatically.  “I’m actually meeting up with Jones and the younger girls at the playground in a bit.”  He seemed to have just remembered this and scrambled to find his mobile phone in order to check the time.

“Gotta run?”  She asked gently.

He looked embarrassed.  “No, no, not just yet.  Sorry.  I.  Well, you know.  I’m off my game today.”

They shared a smile.  Then sipped their coffees in silence for a moment.  “So no kids of your own.”  She concluded.

“No.”  He said simply.  Good.  She hated when guys thought it was cute to follow that up with: ‘None that I know of, anyway, har har har’.  Oh, really?  Unprotected one-night-stands and irresponsible parenting are adorable, amusing things to joke about?  Yeah, that’s the sort of questionably clean dick I want getting up in my lady parts.  Sheesh.

“But you want some.”

He raised his eyebrows and stared at her.  He wasn’t sure how to answer; she could see his inner struggle all over his face.  He huffed and did that thing she was really becoming fond of—he just told her the truth.  “I’ve always wanted a family.  Yeah.”  He looked a bit as though this confession might cost him her continued interest.  Like he expected her to go running for the hills.  She had the strangest urge to reach over and stroke that barely stubbled cheek of his.

“Me too.”  She offered generously.  Letting a little bit of that mysterious veil she prided herself on slip.

He gave a small smile to his coffee cup.  Then he frowned.  “How about your family?”  He ventured, not daring to look.

“Mom and Dad are doctors—pediatrics and neurology respectively, and my brother Sanjay is in government.  He works over at city hall in the town planning office.  He’ll retire an old mid-level bureaucrat.”  Her tone was lovingly tart.

“Any nieces and nephews?”  He asked, seeming to relax much in the way she had done when previous marriages and children didn’t lead the old family list.

“Not yet.  Cousins and such.  But Sanjay won’t get married until Papa chooses a bride for him.”

Nolan didn’t manage to hide his blank surprise.  “Oh?”

“Not a religious thing or anything—“  She assured him, “Just a cultural holdover that Sanjay seems content to go along with.  He says he’s fine with our parents’ matchmaking skills.  And I don’t think he’s in a rush to settle.”

Nolan nodded.  He started to speak and then decided against it.  He smiled instead. 

She couldn’t quite get a read on that one—he did a good job of masking whatever it was.  Hmm.  “So listen, if we exhaust all our conversation topics now what will we have to chat about over dinner?”

His smile became a little lopsided and his eyes seemed too deepen somehow.  “I have a feeling that we could talk about anything and everything, or nothing at all, and be perfectly content.”

Whoa.  Ok.  That was startlingly, well, startling.  She blinked at him and surprised herself a little when she found herself agreeing.  “Nolan Delaney, I think you might be right.”

“So tonight.  Seven-thirty.  The gazebo.”  He said, his voice suddenly smooth as satin and a little sexy.  But not like he was trying to be sexy, rather, just by virtue of his anticipation for the evening causing an undercurrent of excitement to rumble under the words.  She felt the resonance of it low in her pelvis and she liked it very much, shifting in her café chair to better relish it.

“Then up to the winery with the killer view.”  She answered in a matching purr that seemed to make his pupils dilate.  He, too, shifted in his chair.  She smirked.  “I hear the duck is exceptional.”

He leaned in, as if carried by nothing but pure animal instinct, and she thought he might just kiss her.  He furrowed his brow and frowned as he seemed to catch himself before he had the chance to let his gut overrule his good sense.  She found herself wishing he’d thrown sense out the window.  She wanted to know what those lips felt like on hers.

“It’s been a real pleasure meeting you Zahra Keerthani.”  He told her in a low, personal voice.

“The feeling is mutual Nolan.”  She assured him, leaning in about as far as he had with a challenging little smile.

He gave her a funny look, then, as if trying to figure her out, then smiled.  “Shall I walk you back to your friends?” he murmured, his eyes having trouble staying off her lips.

She parted them a little, lifting her chin to show them to better advantage, and she watched the hunger ripple over his features.  He wanted to.  But he wasn’t going to.  She smiled.

“Thanks, Nolan Delaney,”  She said, making sure her mouth behaved alluringly while it caressed his name.  His Adam’s Apple bobbed.  “But you go on and meet your brother at the playground.  I think I’m going to hang out here, finish my croissant and enjoy the breeze.

He took a long breath in, then, through his nose, and closed his eyes for a moment.  “I’ve never met anyone like you.”  He whispered.

She could tease him.  But she’d feel like a hypocrite in doing so, because he wasn’t the only one feeling ensorcelled here.

He met her eyes once again and she got a funny sort of warm feeling in her center.  “We can continue this discussion at dinner.”  She suggested, hardly loud enough for him to hear.  Now she tried breathing in though her nose too.  Oh.  Yeah.  He smelled great.  She thought she smelled a pleasing men’s fragrance on the walk over, and then when he’d held the door for her, but there had been so many people passing by, crowding near.  Now she smelled him.   His scent.  And she liked it all the way down to the center of her world.  She felt her pulse thrumming and hopping in a very intimate place.  She couldn’t say what he smelled like, other than the sun tan lotion and now the coffee, but it was clean and male and deep.

“Till tonight, then.”  He said, sounding regretful and reluctant to move.

“See ya then handsome.”  She breathed and smiled playfully.

He had to quite literally shake himself to move to action.  He put a few dollars on the table for the bus person who’d clear the table when she left.  She could tell he’d been in the service industry, most folks don’t think to do it if they’ve purchased their things at a counter and tipped the cashier already.  “Ok.”  He said.  He said it more to himself than to her.  “Ok.”  He repeated.  Was he trying to convince himself to get up and go?

“Thanks for coffee.”  She said as he finally managed to make his legs pull him to standing.

“Thanks for agreeing.”  He responded honestly.

“I have a funny feeling that I’d agree to just about anything you asked, just so long as you asked it with a smile.”

He tilted his head sideways and a slow grin pulled at his mouth.   “Since I’m a gentleman, I’ll do my level best not to take advantage of that, Zahra.”

“Well there’s a time and a place for everything, Nolan.”  She responded mischievously.

His face went slack for a beat.  Then he smiled almost--but not quite--shyly and gave her a sidelong look that made her positively throb between her thighs.  “See you at seven-thirty.”  He intoned.

“You bet your sweet ass you will.”  She replied brazenly.

He chuckled and finally, finally, made himself leave the café.  He had to go back in through the shop portion to emerge onto the boardwalk, as the patio was corralled by a wrought-iron fence.  While she waited for him to re-appear and walk by her, knowing he wouldn’t be able to not look, she rearranged her loose over-bathing suit top, adjusted her cleavage, and swept her thick, heavy tresses up off her back and shoulders and twisted it deftly into a long, loose cord and wound it around her crown like she’d done a million times before.  She quickly grabbed the clips to secure it from her purse and did so, not needing a mirror because she’d had years to practice it, and because the effect was alluringly bohemian and organic.

He crossed her eyeline just as she was finishing and he halted dead in his tracks, earning him some sharp words from an older couple who’d nearly tripped at the unexpected stop.  He apologized charmingly to them as they moved around him, but he kept one eye on her while he did it.  When she had his full attention again she leaned forward on one elbow, subtly swelling her breasts out and together for his viewing pleasure, and with her other hand she fished an ice cube from his drained coffee drink and lightly traced it over the long curve of her neck.  She didn’t play it up.  She didn’t have to.  It was hot out, it was a thing people did, it just happened to make him just about salivate.

Again he had to visibly shake himself.  He gave her a half-amazed smile, nodded goodbye, and forced himself to walk in the direction of the downtown children’s playground.

She slipped the shrinking ice into her mouth and savored the hint of taste from his much darker roast. 

What was she going to wear tonight?