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CHAPTER SEVEN
Joe had decided before he picked Meg up that it was time to be completely honest. Somehow, though they’d known each other less than a week, he knew tonight, on Valentine’s Day, was the perfect time for new beginnings and clean slates.
Besides...no way in hell could he gently kiss her and walk away again—not when those blue eyes begged him to stay. So, he’d tell her the truth about where he’d first seen her, apologize, then, with any luck, they’d do what they’d both been dying to do since the night they’d met. Go absolutely wild together in bed.
When they arrived at the romantic restaurant, he helped her remove her snow-flecked coat. Seeing her fully for the first time this evening, he knew he’d made the right decision. The only decision. His jaw dropped. “Meg, you look incredible.”
“Thank you. It seemed appropriate for the holiday.”
He’d decided the other night that red was his new favorite color. Meg was wrapped in it, from shoulder to mid-thigh, clad in a glittery, tight little dress that clung to every seductive curve on her body. Even the coat-check guy stared.
He swallowed and said, “But, uh, it’s kinda chilly. Would you rather keep your coat on for a while?”
She chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
As they walked through the crowded restaurant behind the hostess, Joe noticed a lot of eyes following Meg’s every move. Waiters, the bartender, even men sitting with other women. Joe had never in his life been bitten by the green-eyed monster. But he was simply unable to stop himself from slipping a possessive arm around her waist as they approached their table.
After they sat and ordered drinks, Joe gestured toward her hair. “I thought you said it wouldn’t hold a curl.”
“A ton of gel,” she confided with a grin, touching a thick lock of hair hanging over her shoulder. “It’ll be flat as a pancake again by midnight.”
He hoped it would be earlier than that, because he intended to tell her the truth over dinner, and be back at his place making it up to her by ten. He intended to sink his hands in that hair and make a total mess of it.
“I’d hoped this place would be a little quieter,” he said, glancing around. “I should have known better because of the holiday. I really wanted to talk to you.” As he glanced at nearby tables, he again noticed the stares Meg was getting. “I don’t think I’m the only one who likes your new look,” he muttered, unable to hide a frown.
She followed his stare. A faint blush stained her cheeks. “I’m not used to much male attention.”
“You’ve always been a beautiful woman, Meg. That some men couldn’t see it in spite of your clothes makes them pure idiots. I see you for who you are no matter what you wear.”
Obviously noticing his discomfort with the attention she was getting, she asked, “Do you want me to go home and change into a skirt and sweater?” The humor in her eyes said she was teasing.
Only an ass would admit the truth...a tiny part of him would rather be the only man to see the incredible beauty of the woman he was falling in love with. Joe wasn’t that stupid. Besides, it was easy to see her excitement and happiness tonight.
Before he could reply, an efficient waitress brought a bottle of red wine to the table. As the woman uncorked it, Meg said, “Thank you again, Joe, for the flowers. They were lovely.”
“I hope they’ll look nice with the twenty construction paper hearts on your coffee table.”
Meg smiled and leaned across the table, reaching for his hand. But before she could slip her fingers into his, she accidentally jerked her arm and knocked the bottle of wine the waitress was pouring. As if in slow motion, the open bottle slipped to the table, landing on its side. Red wine literally gushed out, all over the pristine white tablecloth.
And all over Joe’s lap.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry.” Meg looked horrified.
The waitress reached for the bottle, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Joe was positively drenched.
***
An hour later Meg found herself exactly where she wanted to be: inside Joe’s apartment. She stood in the living room, waiting while he changed clothes...just as she’d planned. If he found out she’d intentionally spilled wine all over him, he’d probably think her insane. She hoped when she gave him his red-silk-wrapped Valentine’s present, he’d be in a forgiving mood.
“Okay, Meg,” she murmured. It was time to give him his gift. Now, before she lost her nerve, before he could emerge from the bedroom and insist they go back out to finish dinner someplace.
“No dinner tonight, sweetheart. We’re heading straight for dessert,” she murmured.
She turned off the lights in the room, leaving only the kitchen one on for some gentle illumination. Then she unzipped her dress, slipped it off, and tossed it to the sofa.
“Strike a pose,” she mumbled, remembering what Dixie had suggested as she’d purchased tonight’s provocative outfit.
A pose. She could do that. She jutted one hip out like a contortionist, and put her fist on it. Tossing her head back, she thrust out her chest, trying to look seductive and sultry. Probably, though, she just looked ridiculous and constipated, because a sudden ache in her lower back made her grimace. The horribly uncomfortable high heels had tortured her all evening. Now with all the hip-and boob-thrusting, her back screamed in protest. She’d be more likely to wind up in the chiropractor’s office than in Joe’s bed.
