Raid (Unfinished Hero #3)(13)

“Then you’re free to go out to dinner with me.”

My chest compressed like Spot was lying on it and my lips parted.

Raiden’s eyes dropped to my mouth and his lips muttered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Uh…” I mumbled, then stopped mumbling.

“I’ll take that as a yes, too,” he declared.

“I—” I started to say something. I had no clue what, but got no more out.

“I’ll be here tomorrow, six thirty. Not f**kin’ around with all the cute that’s you, we’re goin’ to a steak place, so you’ll wanna dress nice.”

All the cute that was me?

“I would request that white blouse you crawled around the pet store in,” he went on, and I felt my face start to heat at the reminder of my idiocy, which, clearly, Raiden didn’t recall as idiotic. “But everything I’ve seen you in since then is far from disappointing,” his eyes swept my chest and legs before coming back to my face, “so I’m lookin’ forward to the surprise.”

Was I asleep?

Was I dreaming?

How was this happening?

I said nothing because I feared, if I did I’d wake up, and I most certainly did not want to wake up.

His head cocked to the side. “You gonna be ready for me at six thirty?”

That required a response so I tested the waters.

“Yes.”

His eyes got lazy, my heart did a somersault and he murmured a rumbling, “Good.”

Then he turned, sauntered down my porch, my steps and to his Jeep.

He swung in, reversed at an angle and drove away.

I stared into the trees where I last saw him for minutes that seemed to last for hours.

Then I lifted the phone still in my hand, hit redial and put it to my ear.

Five minutes later, KC shrieked, “Seriously?”

I burst out laughing.

Giddy laughing.

Excited laughing.

Freaked laughing.

And even laughing, thank God, I didn’t wake up.

Chapter Five

Clueless

The next evening…

The doorbell rang.

I was in my bathroom upstairs, staring at myself in the mirror, but I’d been ready for twenty minutes.

Now I was hyperventilating.

I drew in deep breaths, turned toward the door and hit the light. I forced my mind to go over my appearance, which at that point I had memorized.

KC and I had gone into Denver so I could get a new outfit. A blue jersey dress that was great with my eyes, showed just enough but not too much cle**age and clung at all the right places. It was a miracle dress that gave me a miracle body, and as such cost a miraculous price that I charged.

I also bought a pair of strappy, high spike-heeled sandals that were to die for. They were made up of blue snakeskin straps interspersed with green snakeskin straps and they made my feet—and my brand new pedicure (with a design on my big toenails that included a little crystal; this was Raiden Ulysses Miller, I was going for the gusto)—look fabulous.

They also cost a mint.

I charged them, too, and I didn’t care.

It all had to be right. Perfect.

And it was.

KC convinced me to wear my hair down, and I did my face with an edge toward drama. But not too much, because I didn’t want to go over the top and overshadow the dress and shoes, both of which packed a punch.

So after a busy day of shopping, pedicure and manicure then nervously getting ready, the time had come.

It was six thirty-three.

Raiden was here.

I turned out the light by my bed. I grabbed my clutch and walked out of the room, down the stairs and to the door. I pulled in another deep breath then opened the door.

Raiden stood there in all his glory. It was more glorious seeing as he wasn’t wearing cargo pants and a skintight tee (which were always awesome), but a nice, dark pair of jeans, a deep green shirt with a subtle pattern in it that looked good with his skin, hair and eyes, and a black belt and black boots (which were awesomer).

Delicious.

“Hey,” I greeted and it came out breathy.

He didn’t reply.

His eyes were moving down and they were taking their time. After they hit my shoes, they stayed there awhile. Then, just as slowly, they came back up.

They hit mine and the look in them made my heart, already beating like a jackhammer, go into overdrive.

“Hey,” he rumbled.

I’d practiced this while doing my makeup (and hair) so I was able to take a slight step back, motion inside with my hand and ask, “Do we have time for you to come in for a drink?”

“You don’t want me comin’ in for a drink,” was his reply, and I felt my brows draw together.

“I don’t?”

“You, that dress, those shoes, that hair, beverages and furniture you can get horizontal on would not be a good combination.”

“Oh,” I whispered, and with his words it hit me like a shot that he was into me.

The date kind of said that, but his words stated clearly he wasn’t just into me.

Raiden Ulysses Miller was into me.

I felt that warmth settle in, digging deep, as he kept talking.

“Not to mention, we got a reservation and I’m hungry.” He leaned in and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”