“Holy Moses, KC,” I whispered into the phone. “I’m watching a green Jeep drive up to my house.”
“No shit?” she whispered back.
She knew what this meant. Every girl in town, I figured, knew that Jeep.
“None at all.” I was still whispering.
“Ohmigod, is it him?” she asked.
The Jeep stopped close to my front walk.
I could see through the windshield.
This meant I stopped breathing, so I had to wheeze out my, “Yeah.”
“Holy fuck!” she shouted.
Raiden swung out of the Jeep.
My heart flipped over.
“I think I gotta go,” I told KC.
“You think?” she asked.
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
Raiden Ulysses Miller and his big gorgeous body were walking up to my house.
“Report back the minute he leaves,” KC ordered.
“Righty ho,” I muttered the instant his boot hit the first step up to my porch.
I beeped the phone off and watched him climb the next four steps. Then I watched him saunter five paces to me where he stopped.
He did not speak.
I didn’t either.
His eyes moved from my hair to my feet to my hair again.
My eyes stayed glued to his eyes.
He turned his head around a bit and took in the porch.
I kept my head stationary and took in him.
Then his eyes came to mine. “Are you shittin’ me?”
I blinked.
“Sorry?” I asked.
He crossed his arms on his chest, making the muscles in his biceps bulge and the veins in his forearms pop. I was concentrating on taking in all this fabulousness so I might have missed the full orgasm, but I was relatively certain I had a mini one.
Then he smiled.
There it was.
The full orgasm.
It was a wonder I didn’t moan.
“Honey, you look straight out of a chick flick,” he remarked.
Again, I blinked.
Then, again, I asked, “Sorry?”
“Cute outfit. Glass of wine. Sexy, messy hair. Cute house that looks out of a magazine. Not a lick of makeup and you look prettier than any woman I’ve seen for over a year. Gabbin’ on the phone like you look this good, in a place that looks this good every day when that shit’s impossible.” He paused before he concluded, “Chick flick.”
Did he say sexy, messy hair?
And that I looked prettier than any woman he’d seen for over a year?
“Sorry?” I repeated yet again.
“Say that again, I’ll kiss you.”
Oh my God!
Did he say say that again, I’ll kiss you?
Kiss me?
I stared.
Then I swallowed.
What I did not do was speak.
Raiden was silent. So was I.
When this went on an uncomfortable while, I broke it.
“Can I ask at this juncture what you’re doing here?”
His lips twitched and he answered, “Yeah, baby, at this juncture, you can ask that.”
He said no more.
But he called me baby.
I didn’t look to confirm, and I was glad he didn’t either, seeing as I was relatively certain my nipples were now hard.
Cripes!
When he remained silent, I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“You doin’ anything for your grandmother tomorrow night?” he asked back.
“Uh… no,” I answered.
“You hangin’ with that pothead and his pothead girlfriend?”
My head jerked at the way he referred to Bodhi and Heather, not to mention his knowledge of them and me spending time with them, but I replied, “No.”
“Then you’re free to go out to dinner with me.”
My chest compressed like Spot was lying on it and my lips parted.
Raiden’s eyes dropped to my mouth and his lips muttered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Uh…” I mumbled, then stopped mumbling.
“I’ll take that as a yes, too,” he declared.
“I—” I started to say something. I had no clue what, but got no more out.
“I’ll be here tomorrow, six thirty. Not fuckin’ around with all the cute that’s you, we’re goin’ to a steak place, so you’ll wanna dress nice.”
All the cute that was me?
“I would request that white blouse you crawled around the pet store in,” he went on, and I felt my face start to heat at the reminder of my idiocy, which, clearly, Raiden didn’t recall as idiotic. “But everything I’ve seen you in since then is far from disappointing,” his eyes swept my chest and legs before coming back to my face, “so I’m lookin’ forward to the surprise.”
Was I asleep?
Was I dreaming?
How was this happening?
I said nothing because I feared, if I did I’d wake up, and I most certainly did not want to wake up.
His head cocked to the side. “You gonna be ready for me at six thirty?”
That required a response so I tested the waters.
“Yes.”
His eyes got lazy, my heart did a somersault and he murmured a rumbling, “Good.”
Then he turned, sauntered down my porch, my steps and to his Jeep.
He swung in, reversed at an angle and drove away.
I stared into the trees where I last saw him for minutes that seemed to last for hours.
Then I lifted the phone still in my hand, hit redial and put it to my ear.
Five minutes later, KC shrieked, “Seriously?”
I burst out laughing.
Giddy laughing.
Excited laughing.
Freaked laughing.
And even laughing, thank God, I didn’t wake up.
Chapter Five
Clueless
The next evening…
The doorbell rang.
I was in my bathroom upstairs, staring at myself in the mirror, but I’d been ready for twenty minutes.
Now I was hyperventilating.
I drew in deep breaths, turned toward the door and hit the light. I forced my mind to go over my appearance, which at that point I had memorized.
KC and I had gone into Denver so I could get a new outfit. A blue jersey dress that was great with my eyes, showed just enough but not too much cleavage and clung at all the right places. It was a miracle dress that gave me a miracle body, and as such cost a miraculous price that I charged.
I also bought a pair of strappy, high spike-heeled sandals that were to die for. They were made up of blue snakeskin straps interspersed with green snakeskin straps and they made my feet—and my brand new pedicure (with a design on my big toenails that included a little crystal; this was Raiden Ulysses Miller, I was going for the gusto)—look fabulous.
They also cost a mint.
I charged them, too, and I didn’t care.
It all had to be right. Perfect.
And it was.
KC convinced me to wear my hair down, and I did my face with an edge toward drama. But not too much, because I didn’t want to go over the top and overshadow the dress and shoes, both of which packed a punch.
So after a busy day of shopping, pedicure and manicure then nervously getting ready, the time had come.
It was six thirty-three.
Raiden was here.
I turned out the light by my bed. I grabbed my clutch and walked out of the room, down the stairs and to the door. I pulled in another deep breath then opened the door.
Raiden stood there in all his glory. It was more glorious seeing as he wasn’t wearing cargo pants and a skintight tee (which were always awesome), but a nice, dark pair of jeans, a deep green shirt with a subtle pattern in it that looked good with his skin, hair and eyes, and a black belt and black boots (which were awesomer).
Delicious.
“Hey,” I greeted and it came out breathy.