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“Mack,” I say as he pauses on the porch, “they were incredibly generous presents. Thank you so much. Everyone was feeling a bit low, and that’s really cheered them up. That whiskey! It must be worth a fortune.”
“Fifteen hundred dollars. Don’t tell him.” He moves closer to me, putting his hands on my hips. “Aren’t you going to ask what your present is?” he murmurs, touching his lips to mine.
“Is it really great sex?” I say huskily. “I’m crossing my fingers.”
He chuckles, pulls something out of his back pocket, and gives it to me. It’s a long narrow black box. I open it and stare. It’s a pen—a beautiful one, with a black barrel and an off-white cap.
“It’s a Montblanc,” he says. I know they’re one of the most expensive pens you can buy. “It’s a Jimi Hendrix special.”
“Oh my God, really?”
He runs a finger along it. “The engraved pattern on the cap is inspired by one of his guitar straps, and the pattern on the barrel resembles a WAH pedal. The clip looks like the vibrato bar of an electric guitar.”
“Is it silver?”
“Platinum.”
“Holy fuck. It’s beautiful.” I’m incredibly touched by the symbolism of it, that it reflects our conversation about Hendrix when I wore the T-shirt with his lyrics on it. He remembered. How wonderful.
“I guess jewelry would probably have been more romantic,” he says, surprisingly awkwardly for a guy who has so much self-confidence. “But I know you’re writing a book, and I thought you could use it to sign a copy for me when it’s printed.” He smiles.
I rest my hand over my heart, taken aback. “I don’t know what to say. It’s the most thoughtful, beautiful gift I’ve ever had.”
“You wouldn’t rather have had the great sex?”
“Well, if it’s still on offer…”
We both laugh.
I look up into his eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”
He bends his head and kisses me. Then he straightens again. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, ten-thirty. The tournament starts at eleven.”
“Okay,” I say happily. “See you then.”
He waves and returns to the car, getting in beside Jamie, and the car pulls away.
I look at the pen, which I know would probably have cost over a thousand dollars. The pen itself, and the presents he gave my family, are wonderful. But the best gift was his compliment:I know you’re writing a book, and I thought you could use it to sign a copy for me when it’s printed. He didn’t make fun of my dream, and he has faith that I’ll finish it and publish it. That in itself is priceless.
Sliding it into my pocket, I smile and go back inside.
*
The next day, I open the door at ten thirty, just before he knocks on it.
“Morning.” I inhale as I see him standing there. He’s wearing a white polo shirt with blue trim and white tennis shorts that reveal his gorgeous muscular brown legs.
“Wow,” he says, staring at me.
I look down. I’m wearing a white tennis dress. It’s very short, especially with my long legs, and only just covers the white Lycra shorts I’ve got on underneath.
He sighs with a touch of exasperation. “How am I supposed to play with this kind of distraction?”
“You’ll manage, I’m sure,” I say wryly, coming out with my bag and racket, and closing the door behind me.
He puts an arm around me as we walk to the car, then kisses me before he opens the car door. “Hello,” he murmurs.
“Hi.” I love the way he makes my pulse race just with one look from those gorgeous eyes.
