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Opening the door, she saw he'd worn a sports coat, dress jeans and nice shirt. He'd even brought flowers, yellow daisies, and a bottle of wine.
At her amazed look, he lifted a shoulder. "It's our first official date, after all."
"I'm underdressed."
His gaze coursed over her. She'd opened the door but stepped back from it, letting him open the storm door so she wouldn't be glimpsed by the neighbors. As he shouldered in, a big man filling her foyer, he took her hand, setting the flowers and wine on the side table. His scrutiny was thorough and avid, making her skin heat under his attention. "You wore it."
"You told me to."
She cast her eyes down when she said it. Part of it was an involuntary reaction to his proximity, but she made the conscious decision to keep her gaze down, trying to battle down the butterflies as she did so. D/s permeated his life--training Troy in his store, doing demonstrations in the evening. Was she crazy to try her hand at giving him such an overt submissive cue?
She thought of Sam, how brave she'd had to be to initiate things. But Madison didn't need to take the lead as Sam had with Geoff. Logan lived and breathed Dominant. It wasn't play for him at all, which probably meant she shouldn't be encouraging it.
However, as she tried to bring her gaze back up, she found herself unable to do so, as if her subconscious was stubbornly insisting on the message, inviting his next reaction. He stepped closer and she let herself be backed up against the wall. His hand settled on her waist, the other under her hair, holding her still.
"I put out all the things to cut your hair," she said, apropos of nothing. "If you'd like to do that before the movie."
"You were serious about that."
"Yes." She managed to lift her gaze briefly to his and was held there, breath catching in her throat. "I can tell you prefer it short. I want you to be . . . you."
"All right," he said. A woman with hair that beautiful would have agonized over it, at least a moment. It meant no more to him than shearing a sheep. She rolled her eyes at him.
"But you'll cut my hair without this." Giving her a wicked look, he tugged on the knot between her breasts. When he grazed her nipple with his thumb, she caught her lip between her teeth. "Nothing better than a topless female barber."
"Sounds like another business opportunity."
"Probably been done, but yeah, we could use one around here. Though I'm not suggesting you sign up. I want you as my private hairdresser."
She chuckled at that, but stayed still as he came even closer. She let out a little moan as he imprinted his erection on her thigh, then shifted his stance so it rubbed against that nothing skirt and panties. "You're hot and eager, aren't you?" He nuzzled her hair, ran his hand down her shoulder, her upper arm. "God, you test a Master to the limits. Show me where you're going to cut my hair."
She needed his supportive hand to straighten from the wall. She wanted him, right there, right now. For the first time, she noticed he was carrying a tote slung over his shoulder. Her mind went in a dozen different directions, imagining what he'd brought.
"Where's Troy tonight?"
"Somewhere else."
She bit back a smile. Guiding him to the kitchen, she put the wine on the counter and retrieved a vase from the cabinet. Adding some water before she arranged the flowers in them, she made a note to trim the stems a little later to keep them fresh. It wasn't one of those cheap mashed-together grocery store bundles, but a bouquet that looked arranged by a florist. Amid the grouping of daisies and black-eyed Susans were several pale pink rose buds. She'd have the pleasure of seeing them open up over the next few days.
Turning, she found he'd dropped the tote in a chair and was surveying the kitchen, the trio of "kitchen witch" puppets Alice had kept hung over the sink, the stained glass ornaments that caught the sunlight in the morning. "You haven't changed much yet."
"No. Having it the way she had it makes me feel like she's still here." She fussed with the flowers, fluffing them out, keeping her attention on them. "You were here a lot? I mean, even before she was sick?"
"Yeah. We were friends." His hands closed over her waist, the bare flesh so accessible above the tiny skirt. His thumb slid along the waist band, caught the edge of the thong beneath. "Just friends," he reminded her.
She believed him. Alice had never mentioned him in her letters. Alice always mentioned her lovers. Of course she often mentioned acquaintances or friends, and she hadn't done that with him, either.
He set his jaw alongside her temple, his arms coming around her front, over her chest, as he suddenly held her against him. Not in a sexual manner, but in a way that had her putting her hands over his strong forearms.
"It still smells like her in here," he said.
"I know." She closed her eyes, held on, and realized they were holding each other. "Why didn't she ever tell me about you?"
He was silent a moment. "The first time we met was when Clarence brought her one of our packages. It was the day she opened the store. She brought me the delivery and cake. We talked a few moments about nothing in particular. But when she headed back to her store, she stopped in my doorway, turned and said: 'Madison.'"
He gave a pained half chuckle. "I said something brilliant, like 'What?' or 'Hunh?'"
She could see a faint reflection of his face in the splash guard that ran beneath the upper cabinets. It looked like impressionist art; something that appeared nebulous but held the eye, conveying significant meaning to deeper parts of the psyche. She almost reached out to touch that impression, run her fingers along the wavering lines of his jaw, his hair, but instead closed her hand on his forearm.
