Nate studied me for a long moment, his deep blue eyes twinkling. "Go ahead. You can ask me anything."
I'd been hoping he'd say that, although now that he had, I found myself not quite prepared. I knew what I wanted to ask him; I just didn't know how to phrase it in a way that was tactful and non-awkward. But I figured maybe there wasn't a way and decided to just spit it out. "So, I guess what I want to ask is...well, clearly there's a bit of an age difference between us. And since I'm thirty-six, I'm guessing it's about a decade. So...this doesn't bother you? I mean...I'm sure you could find lots of gorgeous young girls in their twenties who'd love to go out to dinner with you."
His expression, which had been one of amusement, turned serious. "But that doesn't even matter, because I'm not interested in 'gorgeous young girls.' I'm interested in you. And while we're speaking frankly, here, I should add very. Very interested. Just based on what little time I've spent with you, I think you're beautiful, smart and funny. And I happen to like women older than me. I find them much more attractive than most women my own age."
I sat speechless for a moment. "You do?"
His serious expression softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched with a smile. "Yes. I do. And it never ceases to amaze me when people express surprise at this. Men date women ten years younger than them all the time, and nobody thinks anything about it. So why should women be any different? If a woman wants to date a man ten years younger than her, I think people shouldn't give it a second thought." He paused, fighting a smile again. "And I hope you don't."
I fought a little smile myself. "No, no, I think I'd be just fine with it."
Nate grinned, flashing his dazzling white teeth. "Good, then dinner tomorrow at eight? Does that work for you? I can pick you up."
The following night was Saturday night, and I didn't yet have any plans.
I grinned back. "Perfect. See you then."
I started to open the car door to get out but Nate told me to wait. "Please. Let me. I may be young, but I'm kind of old-fashioned about some things, like opening a car door for a beautiful woman. If you're comfortable with that, that is. I know some women don't prefer to have doors opened for them, which is fine, of course."
I wasn't one of those women – not at all. Although I considered myself an independent, completely modern woman, and one who'd been taking care of herself just fine after her divorce, there was just something about a man being an old-fashioned gentleman about certain things (like door-opening) that I just loved. Especially when that man was as handsome and sexy as Nate.
I told him I was more than comfortable with him opening my door, and with a grin, he got out, went around and opened it, then helped me out. The touch of his hand on mine made me a little weak in the knees, a feeling that only intensified when, still holding my hand, he walked me to front door of my building and then brushed a kiss against my cheek.
"I'm so glad I met you today, Justine. I'll be looking forward to dinner tomorrow night."
"Me, too."
With a final grin, he began walking back to his car, his dark, nearly black, hair, glinting in the bright sunlight. I walked into my building, passed the doorman, and went through the lobby feeling as if I were floating. When I reached the elevator, I pushed a button, only realizing when the doors opened that I'd hit the button marked eight. My apartment was actually on the fourteenth floor. It had been quite a while since a man had gotten me so dazed and flustered, and in such a good way.
When I exited the elevator, I ran into my best friend Tamara, whose apartment was also on the fourteenth floor, several doors down from mine. We'd both gotten divorced at about the same time and had decided to get apartments in the same building so we could help support each other.
She took one look at me and asked if something was wrong. "Because you look like...I don't even know exactly. Dazed maybe. Like either you've just been through something major, or you just met a really amazing man or something."
Sometimes it was uncanny how well she could read me. "Actually, both of the above."
Her dark brows lifted high in near-comical surprise, and I smiled.
"Look. When you get back from wherever it is you're going, why don't we meet up in my apartment for a glass of wine and I'll tell you all about it. And maybe make it two glasses because after what I've just been through, I think I need some serious unwinding time."
Tamara said she was only going downstairs for a quick visit to the gym, and that could definitely wait. "Because I need to hear about all this right this second."
A short while later, we both sat at my glossy blonde oak kitchen table, sipping glasses of red wine maybe just slightly too full for a very early evening. Over several minutes, I gave her a brief recap of everything that had happened, at least the main events, from the moment Nate had come into the coffee shop to when he'd dropped me off.
She looked at me with her expression a mask of concern mixed with astonishment. "So, you're really okay? The gunman didn't hurt you in any way?"
I shook my head. "Not at all. He didn't even get close to me before Nate tackled him."
Tamara seemed to relax a little and she took a long drink of wine. "Well, thank God. So, tell me more about this Nate guy. You said he's young. How young is he?"
I shifted in my seat, taking a long drink of wine myself. "Well...pretty young. Like...mid-twenties, I'm guessing."
Tamara smiled, her full, pink mouth lifting more at one corner than the other, as it always did. "Cool."
I couldn't help but smile in return. "Yeah. He says he's attracted to women older than he is. Which...is definitely me, of course, by about ten years."
"And he's taking you out for dinner tomorrow?"
"Yup. I now have about twenty-four hours to settle the butterflies in my stomach just thinking about that."
"Butterflies?" Tamara laughed, swirling the remaining wine in her glass. "Since when do you get butterflies before a date? Since when do you get butterflies, 'Ms. cool, calm and collected at all times'?"
"Well, I guess just since I met Nate. He's just so young, and handsome and...." I lowered my gaze to my wine, smiling. "He's just so hot. Even just sitting in his car with him I had butterflies. Like I was back in high school again or something."
"Well, young and hot and high school feelings are all good things but what does he do for a living? And I ask that not because income is the most important thing or anything, but just because I know you're probably not trying to become a sugar mama. That just doesn't seem like you."
I swallowed a sip of wine and set my glass on the table, nodding. "No, you're definitely right about that. I've worked way too hard to get where I am today to give anyone a free ride, no matter how handsome and hot they might be. But I got a vibe that this isn't the case at all with Nate. He's some kind of an internet entrepreneur. I got the feeling that he has his own money. At least, judging by his car, which is a shiny black Challenger. So, no, I don't think he's trying to use me for money or anything. I don't think that's his game at all. He seemed like he was just really into me for myself. Which...." I gave my head a little shake. "I'm still kind of floored by this. I mean, what are the chances? That a tall, dark, and handsome smoking hot young guy would be interested in me? Me, with all the tiny little fine lines I've been noticing around my eyes lately. I've been noticing lately, too, my breasts just aren't as perky as they were even a few years ago. Which really bugs me."
Tamara smiled, dimpling her left cheek. "Hey, neither of us looks the way we did in high school. That's just life. So your skin isn't what it used to be twenty years ago. You've gotta think on the positive side. Your skin is still the same beautiful caramel color that everyone always says is so gorgeous, and it is. You've still got your same pretty chocolate brown eyes and mile-long lashes that other women would kill to have. And on the non-physical side of things, you're still strong, smart and determined, just like you've always been. Bottom line, you're a gorgeous woman, inside and out. And that's what this Nate guy is seeing. That's what's attracting him to you. So forget about your tiny fine lines or whatever. He may even like them because they show wisdom, depth and maturity; some guys do. Focus on the positives and think kindly about yourself. You deserve to be happy again and you deserve to enjoy every minute of your date tomorrow night."
I smiled, grateful for Tamara's kind words and her friendship. "Well, thanks."
She smiled back and raised her glass. "A toast. To you meeting a hot young guy and to having a great time tomorrow night, and to you possibly enjoying some very hot, passionate, steamy sex with this hot young guy. Because just from what you've told me about him, and him being in his mid-twenties and all...something just tells me he might really be able to get it done in the bedroom."
I feigned shock and surprise, as if that thought hadn't even crossed my mind, but in reality, it had definitely already crossed my mind. It had been several months since I'd had sex, period, let alone good sex. And it had been well over a decade since I'd had sex with a virile young man in his twenties. I had to admit, the thought of that, the possibility of it, maybe even the following night, was more than a little bit arousing.
*
That evening, after a quick dinner and a bubble bath, I went to bed early, thinking about Nate and his deep blue eyes. I fell asleep picturing his large hands and long, strong fingers, wondering how they'd feel running all over my body.
The next morning, I sat in my home office with a cup of coffee, scanning headlines on a local news website when I saw something so shocking I nearly choked on my coffee. I set the mug down, sputtering and reread the headline that caught my attention.
"There's no way." I was so stunned it barely registered that I'd even spoken out loud.
The headline read Internet Billionaire Thwarts Coffee Shop Robbery. Accompanying the article was a picture of Nate, his face at an angle that highlighted his strong, square jaw. His muscular arms were folded across his broad chest. In the background was a massive, wide building, identified as the headquarters of his internet company. After a brief recap of the events at the coffee shop, the article stated that he'd started his own internet company at sixteen, had sold it for several million at twenty-one and had recently started a new company that made him a billionaire. He was only twenty-six.
I sat back in my swivel chair, my head spinning. I would have expected an internet billionaire to be somewhat of an unheroic nerd not the strapping, assertive, sexy young man I'd met the day before. Not the young man who'd made butterflies dance in my stomach just by looking at me.
I grabbed my phone, called Tamara, and launched right into my news as soon as she answered. "So, turns out no chance at all that Nate's a gold-digger looking for a sugar mama. Turns out he's actually a billionaire."
"A...a what?"
"A billionaire."
"With a b?"
"With a b."
"But...how? How, since he's only in his twenties?"
"One sec." I copied the link of the article, pasted it into an email to her, and hit send. "Check your inbox."
She fell silent for a brief while, pulling up the email on her phone. And then she gasped. "Oh my God. And oh my God not just that he's a billionaire, even though a definite oh my God to that, but oh my God, he's so good-looking. He's like – wow, he's good-looking, and young, but not in a college boy type of way or anything. He has a definite grown-man thing going on about him, a certain confidence or something. He looks like a grown man, just a very young one. And a very hot one."
I studied the picture on my computer screen, thinking how I couldn't agree more and how I couldn't possibly be any more intrigued by Nate. Now that I knew about his true identity, I realized that his name had sounded familiar to me when we'd first met. But, in the back of my mind, I'd figured Nate Miller was a common enough name and that's why it had rung some sort of bell. Now, I realized I'd probably heard his name in the media a time or two. Although I was sure I'd never seen a picture of him before. I would've remembered a man who looked like him.
After hanging up with Tamara, I did a little internet sleuthing and discovered through various articles that Nate was somewhat of a private person. I also learned he regularly donated large sums of money to charity. I liked both of those things a lot. I also liked that at the coffee shop, he'd been modest about his occupation. He hadn't felt the need to boast or attempt to impress me with tales of his wealth.
Later that morning, I met Tamara for brunch, and then we went shopping for a special outfit for my date with Nate that evening. After visiting several stores and boutiques, I came out of the changing room of a very upscale evening wear shop wearing a short black dress I really liked. Teeny-tiny black, silver, and fuchsia sequins adorned the halter-cut bodice.
I spun around in front of Tamara. "What do you think?
"I think he's going to just about forget his own name the second he sets eyes on you."
I really hoped she was right.
*
That evening, I took great care getting ready for dinner, even more than I usually did for a formal first date. I buffed and moisturized my skin until it almost seemed to glow; I pulled my shoulder-length dark hair up into a lose twist; and I applied a little makeup, playing up my eyes with smoky, shimmery gray shadow and a coat of black mascara. I'd just finished applying a dab of clear, fuchsia-tinted lip gloss when Nate knocked on my front door.
I dashed out of the bathroom to answer, smoothing my new dress, and opened the door with a smile. "Hi."
He looked dashing in a black suit, white shirt and charcoal-gray tie. His dark hair was rakishly tousled, adding to his overall sex appeal. His style definitely wasn't a little boy kind of look.
He smiled at me in return, his deep blue eyes lighting up, and gave me a quick once-over from head to toe. "Hi. You look...gorgeous."
With a little thrill rippling through me, I told him he didn't look too bad himself. We left my apartment and took the elevator down to the ground floor holding hands. His touch, firm and warm, sent my pulse racing.
Once we were in his car, he asked if I liked Italian food, I said that I did, loved it, actually.
He grinned. "Good. Because I've got a surprise for you."
A short while later, I found out what the surprise was when he pulled up in front of the most expensive, exclusive and upscale Italian restaurants in all of Manhattan. The head chef and owner was somewhat of a celebrity, often appearing on TV shows and in entertainment magazines, rubbing elbows with various actors and musicians. I'd wanted to have dinner at this particular restaurant for years but never had the chance. Once, I'd hinted to my then-husband that I'd love to be taken out to this place for maybe a birthday or Christmas gift, but he'd said that there were plenty of decent Italian places in town that cost a fraction of the price. And that was that. And of course, I made decent money operating my candle company and could have just taken myself and Tamara for a girl's night, but this just didn't seem like that kind of a place. It was the kind of place where you wanted to be spoiled in a romantic sort of way.
On our way into the restaurant, past marble statuary and rows of tiny gold twinkle lights, I gave Nate's hand a squeeze. "Thank you."
He grinned. "You're most welcome."
When we got to the dining area, I had another surprise: he'd rented out the entire restaurant so we could have the place all to ourselves.
I thanked him again, a sudden rush of emotion caused a lump to develop in my throat. "You're really spoiling me."
He dipped his head, smiling, and brushed a kiss against my cheek. "Why shouldn't I? You deserve to be spoiled."
We shared easily the most enjoyable, memorable meal I'd ever had in my life. We talked and laughed and fed each other bites of our entrees. Nate selected a bottle of wine that cost nearly as much as my monthly rent, and it was the best I'd ever tasted. The celebrity chef himself came out to say hello and chatted with us for a while. A trio of violinists serenaded us while we had dessert.
While we enjoyed extra rich espresso laced with anisette, I told Nate that I'd discovered a bit more about him and his internet companies while reading the article about his heroics during the attempted robbery the day before. "I just wanted to let you know that I know, and how impressed I am by how hard I'm sure you've had to work to achieve your success."
He gave me a sheepish half-grin. "Thanks. It has been a bit of hard work, as I'm sure you know from running your own company, but in my case, I think there's been a bit of luck involved, too."
I couldn’t have found his humility and personality any more attractive.
We talked a little more about our different paths to business success. I soon learned where his humility had likely come from. Like me, he'd come from a very humble background. But also like me, he'd always known that he wanted something better in life. Achievement was important to him, although giving back through charity to help make the world a better place was of equal importance. With his obvious maturity, it was hard to believe he was just twenty-six.
After dinner, he surprised me again, in a major way. He'd chartered a helicopter and hired a private pilot to give us an aerial tour of the city, something I'd never dreamed I'd get the chance to experience.
Flying above the city, with a million pinpoints of light below us, was nothing short of magical as was our first kiss, which we shared in the back of the helicopter, along with glasses of champagne. I was beginning to feel like a princess, and told Nate so.
He grinned, pulling me close in the dimly-lit enclosed space. "Good. I've accomplished exactly what I set out to do tonight, then."
After the helicopter ride, we went back to his place, which was an exceptionally large penthouse with breathtaking views of the city from floor-to-ceiling windows in both the living room and dining areas. We'd intended to have a nightcap but we didn't quite get that far. After I'd admired the view from the living room windows with one of Nate's strong arms around my shoulders, I realized I wanted him to kiss me, and not briefly, either.
I turned to face him, aligning our bodies, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His woodsy, masculine scent was even more intoxicating than the champagne we'd drunk on the helicopter. I breathed in, savoring it, knowing I was climbing a slippery slope by initiating romantic contact while alone in his apartment. But I was starting to want him, badly, and I knew once things began heating up, I wouldn't want to stop. I normally had a very strict no-sex-on-the-first-date policy, which I'd never broken. But suddenly, in the warmth of Nate's embrace, I decided that I wanted to break my policy, just this once. I wanted to end the night with lovemaking as spontaneous, fun and romantic as the whole evening had been. I wanted to experience the passion and pure pleasure I'd gone without for a very long time.
Seeming to read my mind, Nate pulled me close, his hands at the small of my back and began kissing me, the movements of his mouth slow, tender and unhurried. I reveled in the exquisite sensation of his lips merging with mine, actually curling my toes in my heels. But soon, he intensified the kisses, and my mouth became just as hungry as his own. With my pulse accelerating and an ache building low in my belly, I couldn't hold back a little whimper of desire.
After several moments, I broke the kiss and told Nate that I wanted him, surprising myself with my boldness. "And I'm sorry if that's a lame thing to say but I can't help it. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone else in my life before, and...." I swallowed, fighting self-consciousness. "I want you to take me into your bedroom."
He brushed another kiss against my mouth, his glassy blue eyes twinkling. "Gladly."
And with that, he scooped me up and carried me out of the spacious living room and down a short hallway to his moonlit bedroom, a feat I imagined wasn't incredibly easy, because I was a fairly curvy, generously-proportioned woman. But then again, Nate was a tall, strong, well-muscled young man.
He gently set me down on his four-poster bed, lit a few candles on the dresser and then began practically tearing his clothes off.
But again surprising myself with my boldness, I crawled to the edge of the bed and took one of his hands to stop him. "Wait. Don't undress too fast. I want you to slowly strip for me, please."