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Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and swept the door open.
Richard hadn’t known quite what to expect. He knew girls of Holly’s age tended to dress sexily these days, especially on a Saturday night. He’d seen them around town, wearing short tight skirts and even skimpier tops. Anticipating this, he’d teamed his new black suit with one of the trendier shirts Joanna had bought for him, and which he’d never worn. He hadn’t wanted to look like an old fuddy-duddy next to his twenty-six-year-old date. It had been different when he’d taken the women out from Wives Wanted. They’d all been older.
When Holly emerged onto the pavement, dressed elegantly and very modestly, Richard breathed a sigh of relief. With that delicious body of hers nicely covered up, he wouldn’t suffer too much physical torture this evening.
When he’d been showering earlier, his aroused body had regretted his earlier reassurance that he would keep his hands off. A lot of people went to bed on their first date these days, he tried telling himself. It wasn’t frowned upon, nor seen as evidence of loose morals.
In truth, Richard liked it that Holly wasn’t a flirt or a sexpot. As he watched her lock the door then turn to face him he decided he couldn’t have his cake and eat it too.
“You look lovely,” he said. “Blue suits you.”
“Thank you. You do, too. I mean…you look very handsome.”
Her blush was delightful, and perversely provocative. When the time came, he was going to thoroughly enjoy taking this innocent to bed.
And she was a relative innocent. Not a virgin, of course. He understood Holly had undoubtedly slept with Dave, and probably other boyfriends over the years. Girls who looked like Holly didn’t stay virgins for long.
But she lacked the kind of sexual confidence that had oozed from Joanna. That was why Holly didn’t flirt. Or dress to tease.
More and more Richard believed he’d found the right girl to marry. All he had to do now was make sure Holly would say yes, when he asked her. Which meant he had to make her fall in love with him. Or think she had.
The restaurant he’d chosen to take her to tonight was a good start, Richard reasoned as he opened the passenger door of his navy BMW. Nothing impressed women as much as an intimate dinner by candlelight in a five-star establishment. This place had certainly impressed the first of his dates from Wives Wanted.
High up in a building overlooking Circular Quay, Hal’s Hideaway restaurant had everything. A magnificent view. A relaxing ambience. Discreet, but prompt service. A wonderfully diverse menu. And a cellar to die for.
“So where are you taking me?” she asked once they were on their way.
“To a restaurant in town, overlooking the harbour.”
“What kind of food do they serve? I mean, is it Italian, or Chinese, or what?”
“The cuisine is international.”
“Oh, dear, it sounds posh.”
He smiled. “It is posh. But you don’t have to worry. You look absolutely gorgeous.”
“I look like I’m going to a wedding.”
“Not at all. You look divine.”
She laughed. “You know how to make a girl feel good, I’ll say that for you, Richard.”
He aimed to make her feel even better by the time the night was out. They chatted away amiably during the twenty-minute drive into the city, but by the time he’d parked the car in one of the spots especially reserved for Hal’s clientele, then steered her up to the restaurant, she’d gone all quiet and stiff.
“I’ve never been to a place like this,” Holly whispered after they’d been settled by the maître d’ at one of the best tables in the house. Next to one of the wide windows that gave an uninterrupted view of the opera house and the bridge. “I won’t have a clue what to order,” she added with worry in her voice as she glanced at the menu, which was, admittedly, a bit daunting.
“Would you like me to order for you?” he offered. “I’ve been here before and I have a pretty good idea what the chef does best.”
Her eyes showed relief. “Yes. Yes, I think that would be a very good idea. I’m not a fussy eater. I’m sure I’d like anything you like.”
Let’s hope so, Richard thought privately as his flesh stirred and his mind filled with the things he’d like to do to her.
“What about the wine list?” he went on. “Is there anything on it you especially prefer?” And he held it out to her.
When she took it, he noticed that she didn’t have painted nails. Neither was she wearing jewellery, or perfume. Whilst this pleased him tonight—her lack of feminine artifice showed she didn’t have any secret agenda where he was concerned—Richard was already looking forward to the nights when she would wear nothing else for him but perfume. She would look magnificent naked, he thought as his eyes surreptitiously raked over her. He could see her now, stretched out on top of his blue satin quilt, her dark hair spread over his pillows, her soft brown eyes slumberous from his lovemaking.
