She couldn’t get Dane out of her mind. Wasn’t he totally out of her reach? Had he really said he’d liked talking to her? Well, they’d had a good time watching the Monty Python movie, and they’d both laughed at all the same parts. She imagined his chiseled face. What would his close-cropped hair feel like to run her fingers through? Ha! As if she’d ever have the chance.
His beeper number repeated in her head. How often did mature gorgeous surgeons invite her out to dinner? Never!
Meghan, the teenager next door, had offered to watch Brenden as a birthday present—why not let her?
Oh, what the hell. She searched for his business card, and a sudden rush of jitters made her drop it twice. She stood tall and swallowed, picked up the phone as a stream of adrenaline trickled through her chest, and dialed.
When he answered, she realized she’d been holding her breath. “Dr. Hendricks?”
“Call me Dane. What took you so long?”
How had he known it would be her? She picked at her hair, flustered. She heard children’s voices and lots of racket in the background, wherever he was.
“Daddy? Daddy?”
“Hold on a second, Rikki. OK, girls, behave tonight. Emma, don’t be a tattle-tale about everything Meg does, OK? And Meg, don’t give Emma anything to tattle-tale about.”
She heard him kiss his daughters, and another woman’s voice spoke up. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of them,” she said. “We’re going to play dress-up and bake cookies and watch movies.”
What sounded like a herd of little girls clapped and squealed, “Yay!”
Rikki smiled. She’d never been to a sleepover party. Come to think of it, she’d never played dress-up either.
More kisses. More goodbyes. A door closed.
“You there?” Dane asked.
She snapped out of her memories. “Yeah.”
“When shall I pick you up?”
Ever cautious as a single woman, she answered without thinking. “I’ll meet you.”
After he’d told her the location of the restaurant, a place she’d never be able to afford on her own, her nerves doubled.
Now it was her turn to play dress-up.
Dane sat at the bar at his favorite steak house in Beverly Hills, nursing a beer. He’d pulled some strings to get a last-minute reservation. It was an unusually warm evening for early November, thanks to the Santa Ana winds blustering through L.A. He almost left his sport coat in the car, but remembered that the restaurant required men to wear jackets.
He tapped his foot and checked his watch again. He’d always been a stickler about being on time, and it was a quarter after the hour. But with that old clunker of hers, Rikki may have broken down on the way. He should have insisted on picking her up, but something in her tone of voice had made him back off and let her call the shots. He dug into his pocket for his cell phone and scrolled through previous incoming calls to find her number. Just about to dial, he glanced up.
Rikki stood in the restaurant entry in a whirlwind of color. From her gauzy layered skirt to the two-toned baby blue and brown vest top, she lit up the room. Copper-colored sandals that laced around her calves reminded him of a film he’d once seen on the Roman Empire. He smiled.
She quickly brushed her hair to fight off the windblown look and glanced his way. He pushed off from his barstool and walked closer. He adjusted his glasses to take a closer look at the pleasing sight.
There were no less than six bead bracelets on both of her wrists, alternating blues with browns, and a necklace of several strands to match just about anything in the world. His daughters loved to make their own jewelry with plastic beads, just like hers. And right now he could almost see her in one of Meg’s tiaras.
She blinked in recognition and her gaze skittered from his to around the lobby and back. In the upscale steakhouse, where women flaunted their highly insured gems, she stood out as “different.” Well, to hell with everybody. He liked how she looked.
Rikki’s quirky outfit tickled him. She was the most genuinely unique person he’d met in ages. A smile of admiration stretched across his face as he approached. Something about the intentional hint of brown lace from her bra peeking above her scooped neckline pleased him even more.
“Hi,” she said, with an insecure gaze upwards. “I had trouble finding parking.”
The expensive valet-only parking must have had her walking half a mile from wherever she’d left her car. Why hadn’t he thought about that? He should have put his foot down when she’d insisted she’d meet him here. No wonder she was late.
“No problem.” He reached for her hand and tugged her toward the hostess. “We’re ready for our reservation.” A surprisingly pleasant surge of energy started where he held her small, warm hand in his. He could get used to that.
She’d gone to trouble for him, and he liked the results. He glanced appreciatively into her delicately made-up eyes, more lovely than ever. Soft butterscotch waves tumbled over her shoulders, and she nervously used her free hand to flip her hair behind her shoulder. She smelled of citrus-infused lotion, and her tantalizing mouth glistened with lipstick, as if daring him to kiss her. Maybe he would…later.
Struck with a sudden urge to skip dinner and get right down to dessert, he swallowed hard.
“Your table is ready.”
“You ready?” He broke off his stare.
Rikki nodded. He gave her a gentle nudge at the small of her back to move her along.
Her dainty hips swayed as they snaked through the crowded and noisy restaurant to their table. He liked the swishing sound the skirt made and the natural herbal scent of her hair.
Content with the thought of sharing dinner with his intriguing date, he couldn’t help but think this could be the start of something. His mouth went dry and a quick response kept him from tripping on a chair.
When had been the last time he’d dared to think that?
Several patrons cast curious glances at Rikki. Maybe they thought she was some eccentric starlet, or a pop singer. Whatever their reasons for staring, she didn’t let it faze her. Instead, she held her head high and squared her shoulders until the hostess seated them. He liked her attitude.
Rikki had never felt more self-conscious in her life. She’d only seen restaurants like this in movies. Perfectly coiffed women and tailored men filled the tables. She even thought she saw an actor from TV in one of the booths at the back.
No gawking.
Her multiple foster-parents had frequently brought in children for the extra income, not purely out of the goodness of their hearts, and a place like this would never be in their budget. She and a few friends had once splurged and treated themselves to a swanky restaurant when they’d graduated from nursing school, but she honestly didn’t feel the food had been worth the price. She had her few favorite eateries, and they weren’t anywhere near this side of town.
Dane looked relaxed and in his element while he perused the menu. “I recommend everything except the seafood. Stick with steak tonight.”
“But I’m a vegetarian.”
He bore the look of a surgeon who had just amputated the wrong leg. He shook his head. “No wonder you’re so scra—er, tiny. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Bristling over his comment, she stared him down. “You never gave me a chance.” She closed her menu and put it on the table. “You didn’t give me a choice, or a say in where I’d like to go. You didn’t ask what I’d like to eat. You just said, ‘This is where we’re going,’ and ‘Be there.’”
Dane stiffened.