I dropped the pencil, then went over to the bed, where I’d tossed my clothes.
As I dressed, I pretended not to notice the draft that passed beneath the dress. It wasn’t like anyone would know that I didn’t have on panties. How would Cav even know? I doubted he was going to ask me to prove it.
Or maybe he would.
Shit.
Realizing I was now obsessing about it, I marched into the closet, grabbed my favorite black heels and a small black clutch. I flipped off the light, stopped by the bathroom to brush my hair one more time and check my face. I offered my reflection a coy grin, then picked up my shoes and purse and headed into the living room to wait.
I had just slipped on my shoes when there was a knock on my door. Once again, my heart tried to launch itself right out of my chest via my throat this time. My nerves were shot, and when I got to my feet, I realized I was trembling. Nerves, definitely.
Not wanting to leave Cav waiting, I hurried to open the door and instantly smiled. The man looked devastatingly handsome in a very nice suit. All black—jacket, pants, shirt—with a crimson tie. The dark suit was in direct contrast to his light hair and baby-blue eyes, which only made him hotter.
“You look stunning,” he said softly, leaning down and pressing his lips to my cheek.
I might’ve swooned a little.
“Thank you. You do, too.”
That earned a smile from him and I was suddenly unsure of myself once again.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I nodded and tried to keep my grin planted firmly on my face.
Cav stepped up to me. “Is something wrong?”
I shook my head, met his gaze. “No. Not at all.”
His head cocked to the side and there was a small smirk playing at his mouth. “Are you sure?”
Figuring he was going to realize it anyway, I decided to go with the truth. “Okay, fine.” I fought the urge to laugh nervously as I stared directly into his eyes. “I feel as though I’ve forgotten to put on something.”
He offered a full-fledged smirk and a dimple winked in his cheek. “Somethin’?”
“Panties,” I explained, my cheeks heating.
“Well, I don’t think you forgot ’em. I think you’ve purposely chosen not to wear ’em.”
“True.” I shook out my hands. “Plus I’m nervous. I haven’t been on a date in a long time.”
Cav took my hand and stepped back. “Well, I assure you, there’s nothin’ to be nervous about. We’re gonna have dinner, enjoy some conversation, maybe a little wine. I’ll have you home before curfew.”
I chuckled at that.
“After all,” he added, “it is a school night.”
And just like that, the majority of my nerves dissipated.
Mostly.
CAV
JAMIE LAUTNER WAS A WOMAN WHO DREW a man’s attention no matter who else was in the room. From the moment I arrived at her doorstep, it had been damn near impossible to look away. When we stepped into the restaurant, I realized that plenty of others were having the same problem I was. The way she walked, the way she talked, the way she carried herself.
And that smile… she was a breathtaking woman.
Not only that, but she was intelligent and witty. Unlike some of the women I’d dated who tended to answer simply, eager to get onto another topic, Jamie had a unique outlook on everything, and she seemed to have something to say. She was very much there in the moment, not mentally drifting ahead or behind. I found that fascinating. Hell, I found her fascinating.
Throughout dinner, we’d bounced from one topic to the next, laughing, joking, sometimes even serious, but never boring. The food had been fabulous, as many people boasted, the wine equally so. As each of the ten courses was delivered, Jamie’s eyes had widened, pure pleasure written on her face. I had silently cheered, grateful she wasn’t one of those dates who nibbled on a little salad and then went home and raided her refrigerator afterward.
“This may sound a bit like stereotyping,” Jamie said softly as the waiter cleared the most recent course. “I wouldn’t’ve chosen this as one of your top places to go.”
I glanced around. It was an upscale, elegant place. Modern decor, contemporary food. I sipped my wine, turned back to Jamie. “I’ve never been here,” I admitted. “But I like to explore new things, broaden my horizons.”
“I like that outlook,” she said with a sweet smile, her eyes glittering in the soft light from above.
“When you get your degree, what are your plans?” I asked, wanting to hear more of her soft, husky voice.
“Originally, I wanted to open my own practice,” she said simply. “However, in the past couple of years, I’ve been thinking it would be interesting to be an FBI profiler.”
“FBI, huh?”
“I know it’s glamorized on television, but the idea of coming up with a profile based on someone’s basic psychology and actions … it intrigues me.”
