Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(43)
The view of the city through the glass walls of the revolving restaurant was breathtaking, the skyline silhouetted against the orange stain of twilight as it faded to deep blue and finally to black, the lights twinkling like stars. Savannah’s mouth fell open when Mike requested a bottle of Cristal, but she promptly closed it again so as not to seem utterly uncool. She’d never been on such an expensive date before.
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered at him after the server left them.
“It’s a special occasion,” he said, holding her stare and reaching across the table to put his hand over hers. She liked the way hers nearly disappeared under his gently protective grasp.
“What?”
“Our first date.”
“Oh,” she laughed, thinking about last night, and how they’d seemed to put the cart before the horse on that one. And he looked so damn fine right now, cheekbones shadowed from a skipped shave, eyes a dark denim blue in this golden ambient lighting. His black shirt was perfectly fitted and loose at the collar, practically inviting her hands to snake around behind his neck. She could see only the barest edge of the ink at his throat, and a couple of lines peeking from underneath the shirt cuffs at his wrists. Right now, no one would ever look at him and imagine his chosen profession was beating the hell out of other people, grappling and striking his opponents into submission.
“What are you thinking about? You’re off somewhere,” he said, the sound of his voice curling warmly in her chest. She smiled and wished she had that sip of champagne now.
“How things work out.”
“Crazy, isn’t it?” He leaned back as the bottle arrived, watching as the waiter poured. She liked watching him. What drew his eye, what held his attention. What was he thinking? He looked off through the windows, and she took that much needed sip of her champagne, closing her eyes as it warmed through her, as golden as the bottle in which it came. Perfect.
“That is a gorgeous view,” she said, following his gaze out the window. “What’s the blue Ferris wheel?”
“The Diving Bell Ferris Wheel at the Aquarium.”
“I haven’t been on one of those since I was a kid.”
His eyes shifted back to her, a smile crinkling the corners. “It’s a nice view, yeah. But I prefer this one.” Happiness welled in her chest. “Look, though, I wanted to show you: See over there? That’s where I live. Three down from the top on the corner; you can even see my light on.” Savannah leaned forward to follow his pointing arm and found the building she thought he was indicating.
“Oh, wow, downtown. You must have a great view too.”
“It’s all right.”
She turned back to him, hoping she wasn’t being too forward when she asked, “Will you take me there?”
It didn’t seem to faze him a bit. “Of course. I’ll take you anywhere you want.”
Expectation, as warm and euphoric as the champagne, slid fluidly through her blood, lighting up the places on her body where she still felt his possession. Between her legs, the tips of her breasts. Hell, everywhere—he’d owned every single inch of her that he’d touched. Knowing she could have another night of that ecstasy seemed to soothe every worry she carried in her heart. One more night. Yes.
It also made the champagne taste even better, the view sparkle even more. Her paella was wonderful: lobster, mussels, and shrimp adding up to a decadent experience that had her thinking maybe there was something to the aphrodisiacal effects of seafood. She had always loved good seafood, but it had never necessarily made her want to f*ck so much as she did right now.
Of course, that might have mostly to do with the gorgeous man sitting across from her. He drank little but seemed to enjoy watching her partake in glass after glass.
“So. A massage therapist, huh? How did that come about?” he asked finally, and she almost melted at the way his eyes followed her fork all the way to her mouth. She gave him a little show, enveloping it slowly with her lips, taking her time pulling it out and swallowing before answering him.
“It just did. I mean, hell, I love getting massages. I love how much better I feel afterward. I considered medicine for a while, and my parents loved that, but I decided that wasn’t for me. Helping people in some holistic way always appealed to me, though, so I went into massage therapy.” She shrugged. “I still got to learn anatomy and the muscular system and was still able to help people. Win-win, and without seven years of school.”
“And how did your parents feel about that?”
“Badly, at first,” she said as if this should be a given, and he chuckled. “But then my mom hurt her back and I got her on my table. She was like, ‘What is that you’re using?’ and I said, ‘Those are my hands, Mom.’ She’s been on board with it ever since. Practically advertises me to all her and Dad’s friends and business associates. I’ve been there four years now and have a really good clientele built up.”
Mike had laughed at the story about her mother. “That’s great. Good for you.”
“It has its moments. Do you have any idea what dating is like when guys find out you’re a massage therapist?” It occurred to her that she was verging on drunken rambling, but that sober part of her brain held no sway here.
“I can’t say I do, and I can’t say I even want to imagine.”