A smile played on her lips and in her eyes. “Okay, dinner.” Pausing for a moment to consider him, she took out the notebook and wrote something down.
“What was that?” he asked.
Kate grinned again and looked at him. “A note,” she began. “So I remember to find myself a good psychiatrist.”
*
They ended up on Highway 1, heading toward Santa Monica. There might have been quicker ways to get there, but the winding drive along the ocean was, by far, the prettiest. Kate had rented a sporty convertible to help her deal with her birthday blues, but she handed the keys over to David. She didn’t feel drunk, but she’d consumed an entire bottle of wine by herself, and she was fairly sure she shouldn’t get behind the wheel.
Then again, the alcohol must have done something, because she was sitting in a car with a strange man heading to points unknown. It wasn’t like her in the least. And it felt great.
Apparently they were headed to a great restaurant he knew on the beach, and after an initial burst of small talk, they settled in for the drive. That gave Kate the opportunity to take him in and convince herself she hadn’t fallen into some alcohol induced, midlife delusion. This was too good. She was depressed and alone on her fortieth birthday, a landmark in any woman’s life, and out of nowhere came a gorgeous man to whisk her away for dinner on the beach. If she’d written a story like this, her editor would tell her the scenario was just too perfect and readers wouldn’t buy it. She would have been right. Kate wasn’t sure she bought it herself, but for now, she was going to slip happily into the delusion and enjoy it.
David concentrated on the road, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other hand on the stick shift between them. He looked so young. Damn. Couldn’t she focus on something else? She turned a little in the bucket seat and gazed at him. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and wavy, the ends of it curling over the collar of his shirt. His eyes, which were now covered by a pair of Ray-Ban aviators, were the same deep brown. At first glance, he looked like someone in town for business, but then Kate noticed the remnants of battle. His nose had a bump, probably from being broken, and his face was etched with tiny scars. One long, thin scar ran from his ear to his chin along his jaw line. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but his cheek sported a bruise. This man, who could have passed for an executive, was, in fact, a warrior, and it surprised Kate that the fact thrilled her more than a little.
He glanced at her and smiled when he caught her staring. “What are you looking at?”
She felt the heat rise in her face. “Just enjoying the view.”
That was a lie; she was trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. Although, there was no denying he was nice to look at.
He grinned and reddened. She’d embarrassed him? That was unexpected. She’d never have pegged him as the humble type.
“Why were you crying earlier?”
The question took her by surprise and she struggled to think of an answer, even a meaningless one. “It was nothing.”
“It must have been something,” he said.
She hated when her emotions got the better of her. It had been happening way too often lately.
David must have seen how deeply she had fallen into her own thoughts, because he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Want to talk about it? I’m the perfect person. Who am I gonna tell?”
“Are you sure you want to hear it?”
He nodded. “Why the tears?”
She drew a deep breath, preparing herself to face the truth she tried to drown in the red wine. “Today’s my birthday, and it’s a little depressing because five days ago my divorce became final and tomorrow my ex-husband leaves for Europe with his fiancée.”
“Oh, man—” He reached over and took her hand with the one he’d had on the shifter. “I’m sorry, Kate.”
“He left me ten months ago, and it was bad long before that.” She shrugged. “You’d think I’d have adjusted by now.”
“Were you married long?”
“Since I was twenty. Too young.”
He didn’t say anything, but let the silence between them comfort her. She appreciated he didn’t offer any trite platitudes or silly advice about ‘moving on’. She’d had enough of that from almost everyone she knew.
“It’s your birthday?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me which one it is?”
“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age.” Kate felt the smile pull across her face and she hoped no new wrinkles popped up.
“Sorry. I’ll assume it’s a crisis birthday then.”
“A crisis birthday?”
“Yeah, you know, a big one. Twenty-five or thirty. A birthday that confirms you’re not a kid anymore.”
“Well, I’ll give you that. I’m no kid.” That’s for sure. She wondered if he really thought she was that young. “How old are you?”
Why did she ask that? She didn’t want to know.
“I’ll be thirty in December.” He said it proudly, as if he were trying to make a point to her that age was no big deal. Kate felt a little twinge of guilt for not coming clean about her age, but why? They had no relationship. She’d never see him again, and lots of women lied about their age. He’d picked her up in a bar, what did he expect?
Kate sucked in a breath.
Oh. God. She’d never been picked up in a bar and she had no idea what he expected. He’d been a gentleman so far, but a wave of panic washed through her. She was totally unequipped for an encounter like this.
Her eyes went back to David. So taken with his face, she hadn’t really paid attention to anything else. She knew he was tall, probably about six-three, and taking a good look she could see every inch of him was lean muscle. Her eyes were drawn to the hand that held hers. His fingers were long and tapered and the skin was roughened from constant battering and use. But there was a gentleness in the way he touched her, in the way his thumb played lightly over her knuckles. Kate felt a curl of heat in her abdomen as she started to imagine how it would feel to have him touch her in more intimate places. When he moved his hand to change gears, she snapped back to reality. This was bad.
Very bad.
*
David slowed the car as he turned off the freeway, finding a place to park near the pier. Kate was fidgeting in her seat as he threw the car into gear, pressed the brake, and turned off the engine. What was she thinking about? He’d certainly gotten points with the sensitive male routine in the car, but he was having an attack of conscience. He felt bad. She was a nice woman, and times had been tough. But then he thought maybe what she needed was a night out and some great sex. It was her birthday; he’d take her out for a nice evening, get her in bed, and she’d feel like a million bucks in the morning. The rationale made perfect sense to him… and then Kate made him feel like a total shit.
“I really want to see the carousel,” she said with a smile. “It’s supposed to be beautiful. I’ve made so many trips to California, and I’ve never been here.”
He smiled in response. It was easy because she was the most sincere person he’d ever met. Her joy was completely genuine, and David felt like the scum of the earth. Once upon a time, he’d been a nice guy. Life intruded, things changed, and he’d lost track of that person somewhere along the road. But watching the happiness spread across her face, knowing he was responsible for it, was a sort of personal epiphany. The bet no longer mattered. Kate offered him redemption, even if it was temporary.
Looking at her again, there was no indication her birthday made her feel older; she was a big kid, eager and enthusiastic. “Let’s eat first, and then we’ll walk around and check things out.”
She agreed and they made a short walk to the restaurant. It was an informal place, almost a shack, and not much to look at. But even the rough tables, the votive candles held in shot glasses, and the paper placemats couldn’t take away from the romantic evening that was developing. The soft piano music playing in the background gave the place a hip ambiance that David liked. Kate took her menu, asked him if he knew what was good, and he marveled that it never occurred to her to snub her nose at the place.