Page 4 of Everything She Wanted

I smile, acting more confident than I am.

He signals to the server, who takes my drink order.

“How were the photos?” he asks, and I like that he’s curious.

“Fun and also not fun. Not my thing, you know.” I try to figure out what to do with my hands and decide to rest one on my leg and the other on the seat between us, my fingertips skimming his thigh.

“What is your thing?”

Definitely not jazz clubs with strangers in the middle of the night is how I want to respond, but I don’t.

“Mostly staying behind the camera and out of the spotlight,” is what I say instead. “That’s my thing.” I know I’m supposed to pretend to be sultrier, but how he looks at me is disarming my defences.

“Could have fooled me,” he says. “You totally give movie star vibes.” Heat rushes through me at his compliment, even as I suspect he’s used this line before.

The jazz band strikes up, so I don’t have to respond, and it’s nice to sit next to him and have a drink. It’s been months since I’ve been on a date, with all the logistics of the move, and even longer since I had anyone look at me like that. I don’t know if anyone ever has.

He leans in to whisper in my ear so I can hear him over the saxophone set that just started. “What do you like to take pictures of?” His voice reverberates in my ear, and I suppress a shiver.

“Beautiful things.” I turn to him a little more but not too much, already realizing we’re too close. “Coffee, books, sunsets.” This time, I look into his eyes. I would love to take a picture of those eyes.

“What about people?” he asks, as if he’s reading my thoughts.

“Sometimes. It’s generally frowned upon to take pictures of beautiful people without their permission.” I pause. “But I might make an exception.” I stare at him, pretend to measure him up in a frame. He gives me a little smirk at my compliment.

He continues to ask me thoughtful questions in between enjoying the music. I answer truthfully and don’t hold back like I usually do, but all too soon the set is over, and people are leaving.

“I have a lot of beautiful things at my place you might like to photograph.” He looks at me intensely and I forget to breathe.

My hair falls on my face as I look away, and he reaches out and pulls it back, running his fingers along the length of it.

“What kinds of things?”

“Oh, you know, artifacts, paintings, things like that.” His eyes drop to my mouth, and I know taking photos is not what he has in mind for us at all. “No sunsets though, but there will be a sunrise soon,” he says as he arches a brow.

My heart beats out of control.

When the bill comes, I reach for my purse, but he taps his phone on the reader before I even get the chance.

“Thank you,” I say as we get up.

“No problem.”

He smiles at me and my legs wobble as we weave through the now empty tables.

We walk outside where the cool night air hits me, and I can feel the buzz of the alcohol begin to subside. This act, being here with him, is already way outside of my comfort zone, and the familiar insecurity and anxiety paws at me, looking for a foothold.

As he steps closer, I get a waft of his crisp pine scent with dark notes of smooth and smoky sandalwood. It ripples around me, tempting me and taking over my senses. A scent that I would love to have linger on my pillow. Desire stirs within me and mixes with my apprehension.

What if?

He takes my hand gently, and my heart hammers out of my chest.

I want to reinvent myself, but truthfully, I’m not sure if I’m ready for anything like this, as hypnotic as he is.

“So, my place?” He gazes at me expectantly. My heart rises to my throat and I can’t meet his eyes. I pull my hand away from his too fast, and my feet move away from him without me even telling them to.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” I take a few more steps away from him.