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Chapter Eighteen
Lana
The next couple of weeks settles us into a new routine. Jake and I go to work each day, and then he usually takes me out for dinner afterward. And each evening after dinner, he drives me home, walks me up to my apartment, kisses me chastely, and then leaves.
Sometimes he chooses the restaurant. Sometimes I choose. Sometimes we take a walk after, and he holds my hand, sometimes not.
But he doesn’t invite me to his home and won’t come into mine. When I suggested we get takeout and go to his place one night, he said he’d prefer just to go out.
I know that he still wants me. I can see it in his face, in his words, in the way that he touches me. A few weeks ago, I was the one holding back and creating distance between us. Now he is the one holding back.
After a couple of weeks of this, I decide we’ve waited long enough. I find myself craving the closeness that we had before. Each day, I crave it more and more.
Friday rolls around, and I decide I will have to be the one to make the first move. When we are done working for the day, Jake pops his head into my office and asks me where I’d like to eat tonight.
“I’m kind of tired. I think I will just head home,” I tell him.
Concern etches his brow. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is great. I just need a nice long bubble bath, some wine, and maybe some takeout.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me but accepts it with a nod. “Okay, well, I’ll call you later.”
“Yes, we’ll talk later, Jake.”
On the way home from work, I stop and get a bottle of red wine and call my favorite Italian restaurant to order lasagna and salad for pickup.
I hurry home and get changed. What are you supposed to wear when you want to appear casual yet stylish and sexy at the same time? Huge dilemma. Jess is out on a date, so I’ll get no help from her.
I push around clothes in my closet until I find something. You can’t go wrong with a little black dress, right? The material is soft, and I know it clings revealingly to my curves. It is loose at the top, my right shoulder bare, and tight around my behind. I know my butt is my best asset. I might as well show it off. I’ll pair that with strappy black sandals.
After lightly reapplying fresh makeup, I spray a bit of my favorite perfume and step into it. I feel confident and sexy.
And ready to see Jake.
On the way to Jake’s place, I grab the hot lasagna. What man can resist wine and Italian food? The closer I get, the more my nerves and self-doubt take over. I am not the type of woman who rushes to a man’s apartment like this.
I pull my clunker up to Jake’s building, and the nice valet takes my car without any expression whatsoever. These guys are trained well. I just hope that the smell of the lasagna covers up the other not-so-good odors of my poor car.
The concierge welcomes me by name. Considering that I’ve only been here a few times, I’m impressed with the man. He doesn’t try to stop me as I walk to the elevators with my wine and lasagna. Had I not been holding anything, I’d have wiped my sweaty palms on my dress. The nerves are definitely getting to me now.
As the elevator nears his floor, I give myself a little pep talk. He won’t turn me away. We have dinner every night, so I know he still wants to be with me. Still, the butterflies won’t go away.
The elevator doors open, and there he is, waiting for me. He is ruggedly handsome, as always. The concierge obviously didn’t waste any time calling up Jake.
“What’s wrong?” he immediately asks. Then, he looks me up and down and notices the bags in my hand. His eyes pause on the swell of my breasts. My low-cut dress gives a small glimpse, a teaser, of what is beneath. He inhales sharply, averting his eyes.
“Nothing is wrong. I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you after all. I have a lasagna.” I lift the bag up slightly, showing him that I actually did bring food.
“We could just go out,” Jake says. “I just need to get dressed really quickly.”
Just then, I notice that he is only half dressed. He had pulled on a pair of jeans and didn’t bother buttoning them, no shirt, socks, or shoes.
I begin to wonder if someone might be in his apartment. Why is he out here, meeting me at the elevator? Why did he hurriedly put on clothing?
Slightly suspicious.
Well, if he is hiding someone in his apartment, he’s not getting away with it.
