surprising ways.
He hadn’t planned on moving in for a kiss quite so abruptly, but the gesture had seemed as natural as breathing. She felt good in his arms; she fit perfectly against him, and as he’d pulled her close, he’d experienced a little thrill of victory—like when he’d been a kid and found a missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle, only lots, lots better.
How could one woman, a woman he hardly knew, have such an exaggerated effect on him? It wasn’t just his body involved, but his mind, his spirit and, he was very much afraid, his heart.
Not that he was falling in love with her. He didn’t allow himself to do that, not since college. In Vic’s world, everything had its proper place. The problem with love was that it didn’t like to stay in its place. It liked to ooze all over everything, spilling onto other parts of his sturdy, well-organized life until nothing functioned smoothly anymore.
Kimberly Rose Mundy, a woman he’d loved as thoroughly as any college kid can love, had turned his life into a circus. His grades had suffered, he’d shown up for his campus bookstore job late and disheveled, he’d neglected his friends, he’d dropped out of intramural basketball. She had consumed him. Then, without preamble, Kimberly had dumped him for a med student.
He’d recovered quickly enough, pulling the shreds of his life back together before all was lost, mending fences and taking a hard look at the person he was before, during and after falling in love. After that, he’d managed to avoid the sticky emotion.
But Angela gave his heart palpitations nonetheless. He felt an undeniable, burgeoning affection for her, for her shy smile and the way she fought with herself over how to behave with him.
That was acceptable, he supposed. Affection was manageable. He wasn’t sure what he wanted with Angela. He was a normal guy, so sex had to be part of the recipe, of course. Still, a fiery fling sounded appealing but unfulfilling somehow. Too shallow and confining for a woman like her.
A long-term friendship, perhaps, that included sex? He’d tried that before, a couple of times. He’d discovered that sooner or later the woman grew dissatisfied with the status quo and wanted to either deepen things or end it. He supposed that was the nature of a woman, to move in the direction of marriage. It wasn’t, however, in his nature.
Did he need to know right now? He supposed not. He could wing this thing. That’s what he’d been doing so far and it had worked out okay.
Angela reappeared shortly wearing the sparkly vest and a pair of spike heels that did great things to her already fabulous legs. “I’m ready if you are,” she said breezily. “Unless you’d like a drink first? I have some box wine in the fridge….”
“No, I think we’d better go.”
She grabbed a small purse and started for the front door, but he snagged her by the arm. “This way.” He led her in the direction she’d just come from, where he assumed her bedroom was.
She dug in her heels. “What?”
“I’m not planning to drag you into the bedroom and ravish you, if that’s what you thought,” he said, smiling to soothe her expression of outrage. “A window in your bedroom leads to the fire escape. That’s where we need to be.”
She looked around, bewildered. “Why? Is the building on fire?” She smiled uncertainly.
Yeah, there was a fire, all right. Inside him. “All right, I guess I’ll have to tell you. The fire escape leads up to the roof. That’s where dinner is.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
In reply, he gestured for her to lead the way into her bedroom. “I’m completely serious.”
Bewildered but wanting to be a good sport, she preceded him down a short hallway and into a bedroom. “You’ll have to overlook the mess, okay?”
“I won’t notice a thing,” he promised.
But he did notice. Her double bed had been hastily made, with numerous fussy pillows with lace and satin trim heaped near the bentwood headboard. Several dresses and blouses were draped over a low chair, as if she’d tried on and discarded many outfits before deciding on the black dress. Instinctively he knew this was true, and the knowledge pleased him enormously.
Angela unlocked the window, but Vic stepped forward to raise it for her. It was large enough that they could step onto the tiny metal landing outside without contorting their bodies in undignified ways. Angela went first, sitting on the ledge, then swiveling those enticing legs through the opening. Her movements were graceful and feminine.
Vic followed, then closed the window. “After you,” he said, gesturing toward a ladder attached to the brick wall leading up to the roof.
She folded her arms and gave him a sideways look. “Now you have to be kidding. I can’t climb a ladder in this dress.”
“Sure you can,” he said easily. “Take your shoes off.”
She stared at him a moment longer, challenging. He could tell she wanted to see what surprises he had planned for her on the roof, but this went against her conservative nature. Finally she capitulated, kicking off her shoes. “Okay, fine. But you go ahead of me. I don’t want you looking up my dress. And you would, too. Don’t try lying about it.”
She was right. With a shrug he grabbed her shoes, stuck one in each pocket, then started up the ladder. When he reached the top, he climbed onto the roof and looked down. She was following, slowly, giving him a lovely view of her cleavage. It wasn’t until then that Vic admitted to himself how afraid he’d been that she would balk at this crazy idea of his. He was knocking down her barriers one by one, but her personality was strong enough that victory was by no means assured.
He extended his hand and helped her the last few steps.
“I did it!” she said triumphantly once she was on firm footing. “That’s the first time I ever climbed a ladder, other than a stepladder.”
“I hope that’s only one of many firsts tonight,” he said as he set her shoes down for her to step back into.
She laughed, a bit hysterically he thought, then reclaimed her shoes.
The rooftop was dark, and they could actually see a sprinkling of stars in the navy blue sky, despite the fact they were in the middle of the city. A few blocks away the lights of Oak Lawn Avenue’s late-night hot spots, muted through the treetops, provided a colorful backdrop. Farther into the distance, downtown Dallas’s artfully lighted skyline shone like a jewel in the night.
“Oh, it’s beautiful up here,” Angela said, almost reverently. “I’ve been living in that apartment four years and I’ve never been on the roof before. It’s isolated, but at the same time the city’s life is all around.”
Precisely why he’d chosen this environment. It was stimulating, yet still secluded. He took her arm and led her across the tar-and-gravel rooftop to a spot on the far side, where the branches of an enormous crepe myrtle tree brushed against the building, softening the harsh lines of the roof edge and gutters.
“Oh, my.” Angela stopped in her tracks, admiring Vic’s handiwork. A table covered with a white cloth bore two elegant place settings, courtesy of Vic’s grandmother’s dishes. He’d inherited them years ago, but they’d remained boxed up in his attic until today. Until now he’d never seen a need to go fancier than his sturdy stoneware and stainless.
The table was lit by a candle inside a glass, where the light breeze made it flicker. Off to the side was an ice bucket containing a good bottle of Chablis. Tucked under the table was a soft plastic container, similar to the ones the pizza delivery guys used to keep their pies warm.
“Sit down,” Vic said. “Do you want some wine?”
“I’d love some,” she replied, claiming one of the padded folding chairs at the table. “How did you get all this stuff up here?”
He’d about broken his back, that’s how,