And Then He Kissed Me. Teresa Southwick

And what a stretch! Two and a half years after the fact, how was he going to turn her belated twenty-first birthday celebration to his advantage? “How?”

      “Let me count the ways.” He held his hand up and touched his index finger. “Number one—clear my conscience. Number two—make my star employee happy. A happy employee is a productive employee.”

      “So this is all about you?”

      “Not entirely. You haven’t heard number three yet.”

      “Okay. Lay it on me.”

      He held up three fingers and wiggled them. “If you don’t lighten up and have a little fun, you’re heading for a midlife crisis of astronomic proportions. As an honorary Marchetti,” he said, pointing at her, “you’re entitled to a free, all-expense-paid dinner where you will be instructed by yours truly in the finer art of celebrating a milestone birthday. While there, you will get a long-overdue lesson in having fun.”

      Temptation tugged at Abby and stirred something dormant in her soul. She longed to do something wild, something spontaneous and completely out of character. Her whole body vibrated with excitement. The prospect of plain Abby Ridgeway spending the evening with the fabulous Nick Marchetti was the stuff of fantasy.

      Then her cautious, practical nature reared its ugly head and told her to turn him down.

      “I don’t know, Nick,” she said, not quite able to listen and obey her sensible side.

      “Then consider this—if you say no, I’m planning to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off. I thought you’d learned never to mess with a Marchetti determined to have his way.” He sighed. “Somehow I suspected it would come down to brawn over rational thought.”

      Abby found she was leaning toward a yes, and it wasn’t his phony threat of physical force. How could she turn him down? He seemed to want to do this and had taken steps to make it happen, including thinking of Sarah. A girl who said no would have to have her head examined.

      “Then in an effort to preserve my dignity, the answer is—okay.” Then she thought of something and said, “What should I wear?”

      “A cocktail dress. This is an occasion for dressing up. I have a special place in mind.”

      She touched his arm, ignoring the tingle in her fingertips. “Thank you, Nick.”

      “No need to thank me. On top of the motivations I listed, there’s one I left out. Ma says I’ve been working too hard and should have some fun. Maybe now she’ll get off my back.”

      She met his gaze and gave him a stern look. “You’re lucky to have her.”

      “That was a joke. Now I’ll leave you to your responsibilities.” He tapped her nose. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Be here. Be ready. Be prepared. No excuses.”

      Chapter Three

      “Oh, Nick—” Words failed Abby.

      They had just been seated at a window table in an exclusive restaurant high above the San Fernando Valley, and she looked down at the lights.

      “You like it?” he asked.

      She smiled at him. “I’d sure hate to be responsible for the electric bill. But yes. It’s wonderful.” She gazed at the sight again. “It takes my breath away.”

      “Yeah,” he said.

      She darted a glance at him and realized he wasn’t looking outside. He was staring at her. Her breath caught for the second time in thirty seconds, and it had nothing to do with the view and everything to do with the intensity in his gaze. He’d never looked at her like that before.

      “Is something the matter?” she asked. “Lipstick on my teeth? Mascara under my eyes? Is the dress wrong?”

      He shook his head. “You look just fine,” he answered.

      “Then why are you staring at me?”

      “It’s just—” He shrugged, a gesture that told her he didn’t have the words. Maneuvering Marchetti always had the words, so this was a noteworthy occasion. Noteworthy good or bad, she wasn’t sure.

      “Just what?” she prompted. A personal compliment from her boss bent her rule. But heck, just for the evening she could relax. Couldn’t she?

      “You don’t look like this at work,” he finished lamely.

      “Does that mean the outfit is okay?” It was the only decent dressy thing she owned. She’d worn the long-sleeved, short-skirted, black, lace-covered sheath to the company Christmas party the year before. Obviously he didn’t remember. She ignored the prick of disappointment. It was better to overlook what you didn’t understand, and couldn’t do anything about even if you did.

      Just then the waiter appeared. “Can I get you something from the bar?”

      Nick ordered a Scotch. Abby asked for a glass of white wine.

      The waiter cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “Miss, may I see some identification, please?”

      Stunned, Abby reached for her small clutch purse, grateful that she’d thought to bring her driver’s license. She handed it over for his examination. Nodding he said, “I’ll bring your drinks right away.”

      Abby glanced at Nick who had a cat-who-ate-the-canary expression on his face. “Okay,” she said. “I get it. That’s what you whispered to the maître d’ when we walked in.”

      “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

      “Come clean, Nick. You put him up to asking me for ID.”

      “If this was really your twenty-first birthday, they would have done it on their own. You don’t look much older than Sarah.”

      She wasn’t sure she liked that. “Thanks, I think,” she said ruefully. But his attention to the small detail warmed her heart.

      The waiter returned and placed their drinks in front of them, then slipped away while they leisurely looked at the menu. Nick sipped his Scotch, then rested his forearms on the small circular table. “Why don’t you date, Ab?”

      Where had that question come from and did she really want to answer it? she wondered.

      “How do you know I don’t?” she asked evasively.

      “Sarah gives me a regular update on the trials and tribulations of the Ridgeway sisters. She says you might as well be a nun.”

      “She’s so boy-crazy.” Abby laughed, shaking her head. “In her opinion, anything less than total preoccupation with the opposite sex means you must be convent bait. But I suppose I was the same way at her age.”

      “Sarah says you’re making her wait to go out alone with a guy until she’s sixteen,” he said. “When did you start dating?”

      “Sixteen. And then I couldn’t go out alone. It had to be group activities.” She toyed with the stem of her wineglass, turning it so that the pale liquid caught the candlelight. “At the time, I thought my parents were from the Dark Ages. Now I see their wisdom. But times have changed. Kids grow up much faster today. I worry so about Sarah, and I don’t know if she’ll listen to me. I wish my mom and dad were here.”

      “Two parents and a united front are definitely the way to go, especially when you’re raising a teenager.”

      “Even when the two parents aren’t exactly united,” she said. If the accident hadn’t taken their lives, her parents might have stayed together. If they’d gotten the chance, it was possible they could have worked out their problems. Now Abby would never know. Mostly she’d learned to deal with the guilt of her part in the accident. But every once in a while it snuck up on her.

      “What does that mean?” he asked, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead.