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She deserved a lot better. Not that he was going to tell her yet. He had the feeling something terrific was about to happen. He hoped so, anyway, and wasn’t going to ruin things right off the bat with a stupid admission that would only embarrass her and do nothing to make him feel better.
“Anyway, I let this photographer friend of his take scads of digital pictures. Just me—smiling, not smiling, pouting, whatever—with my hair down. Georgie said his wonderful new ‘smart’ program would start there and create all kinds of different looks for customers at the boutique.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Can you believe it? I even asked him to let me know when the place opened so I could go and get some ideas for new hairstyles for myself!”
Georgie really was a goat. He had known all along what she thought. “With cousins like that, who needs—”
“Enemas,” she interjected sourly.
The bawdy humor struck him as intensely funny coming from her prim, sweet lips, and he laughed out loud. “So what will you do now? I assume Georgie had you sign over all rights, permission, etcetera, never pointing out the spelling of the word ‘sheer’?”
She nodded, lowering her head. He suspected she was trying to hide newly forming tears.
“I’m sure the owners of the store are reasonable business people. If you meet with them, explain what happened...”
“I don’t want to see anyone in there yet,” she replied, her tone vehement. “I can’t set foot in there right now. It’s bad enough walking down the street, wondering how many men have seen me like... that.”
Joe swallowed—hard. Now was definitely not the time to come clean. “Okay, give it a day or two, then try approaching them. If you want, I’ll come with you.”
“Why would you do that?” She tilted her head, staring at him, as if trying to figure him out like a challenging puzzle. “Why would you go out of your way to help a woman you don’t even know?”
He met her stare, saw the confusion on her lovely face, and told her the God’s honest truth. “Because I knew you were somebody pretty special from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
***
Meg was so charmed and captivated by her newfound hero, she nearly forgot about her date. That wasn’t surprising since she didn’t have them very often. The last time she’d been out with a man, aside from this afternoon with Joe—which really didn’t constitute a date since he’d merely been playing Good Samaritan—had been at least six months ago. So it wasn’t any wonder that as they sipped coffee, chatting and laughing the afternoon away, she forgot all about her plans. She’d promised to go out with Ted Fairlane, the single uncle of one of the boys at school. She finally remembered while making a wisecrack to Joe about the humiliation of seeing herself clad in a black leather teddy.
Teddy. Ted! “Oh, my gosh, I have to get out of here. I have plans I forgot all about. Thanks so much again for everything.” She jumped up to leave so fast Joe probably thought the coffee had given her stomach cramps.
“Wait,” he said, his hand brushing hers. The contact sent warmth shooting up her arm. He slowly smiled, telling her without words that he felt the spark between them, too. She concentrated on not melting into a puddle on the tile floor.
What is it about this guy? Why did the slightest touch, the curve of his smile, the way his eyes scrunched up at the corners when he laughed, make her feel warm and comfortable, yet blazing hot, at the same time? She supposed it was that liking/lusting thing all over again. The liking had deepened through their long conversation. The lusting had been huge to begin with.
“It’s almost dinnertime,” he continued. “We have a good table. Let’s just stay and eat.”
She wished she could. Oh, how she wished it! For the first time in nearly forever, she’d spent the afternoon with a stranger, yet she felt completely comfortable, despite her extreme reaction to him. Her fierce physical attraction probably should have scared her. It oozed through her veins, making her achy and aware, making her want things she’d never wanted, and picture things she’d never done.
She’d watched the way he held his cup, noted the strength of his hands, and wondered what those roughened fingertips would feel like against the more sensitive parts of her body. As she’d noticed the way his tongue slip out to lick away a spot of coffee on his lips, she’d been able to think of nothing but kissing him.
Serious attraction combined with serious liking. How rare was that? And it was even rarer to find a man who was incredible to look at, smart and funny. He had a great laugh, a quick wit, and the same kind of insight into growing up in an ethnic Chicago family as Meg. From the sound of it, Irish grandmothers and Italian grandmothers had a lot in common. Hers would probably have liked him very much.
Not to mention that she’d never once had to wonder if her father had set this up, if he’d turn out to be the nephew of her mother’s best friend, or if he’d been one of the neighborhood boys who’d paid for a peek at her training bra during one of Father Pat’s interminable sermons back in the sixth grade.
Joe Santori was just about perfect.
“Stay, Meg. Please?”
It was darned tempting. And if she had Ted’s work number with her, she would have gone for it. She didn’t have the number, though. So what it came down to was upbringing. Nice girls did not stand up nice men. It simply wasn’t...nice.
She shook her head. “I can’t.” Lowering her lashes, she glanced away. “Another time?”
“No question about it.”
She nearly wrenched her shoulder rushing to get a pen out of her purse to write down her number for him.
She just prayed he’d call.
