Like proud parents sending their only daughter off to the prom, Della’s staff stood at the door of the shop grinning and waving as she slid into Matt’s car.
“Interesting group,” Matt commented once they were out of earshot.
“That they are.” Della chuckled lightly, fighting down her embarrassment.
“They must love you a lot.”
“It’s mutual.”
Matt glanced at her from the corner of his eye, while they waited for the red light to change. Each time he was in her company, his estimation and admiration for her grew. It took a special kind of person to generate the level of support and respect that Della received from her staff. They weren’t just employees, they were friends. He wished he could say the same about the people he worked with. He couldn’t. For the most part, it was a cutthroat kind of business. One person trying to outdo the other. Sure, people respected his ability to get his job done, but he couldn’t count a true friend among them, except Paul. That was a sad testament to his life. And part of him envied the camaraderie Della shared with her staff—her friends.
“I, uh, hope I didn’t embarrass you earlier,” he said, not daring to look at her.
Della felt her face heat, remembering the titillating kiss in the shop. “What if I told you that you did?” She angled her body to the side.
Matt turned ready to apologize. “I—”
“And what if I told you I like it? What if I told you I wanted to try it again to make sure I wasn’t imagining things?” Did I just say what I think I said? she thought, suddenly mortified by her uncharacteristically bold attitude. He must think she was a lonely, approaching-middle-aged woman on the prowl. Oh, Lord. She could just die.
Was that a taunting sparkle in her eyes or the gleam of real desire? He couldn’t be sure. It had been a long time since a woman had interested him enough for him to care one way or the other. He’d taken a chance on everything else having to do with Della Frazier. No sense in changing now.
“What if I told you it was the real thing?” Matt asked, his voice heavy with trepidation. “And there’s more where that came from … if you’re willing to take a chance on me.”
Her heart thumped mercilessly and felt as if it were stuck in her throat as she pushed the words out. “It … has been about taking chances since we met, Matt. Hasn’t it?”
Matt reached out and stroked her cheek.
“The light’s green,” Della said dreamily.
“In more ways than one.”
* * *
For the balance of the ride to lower Manhattan, Matt drove with one hand on the wheel and held Della’s with the other.
It was a gentle touch, Della thought, enjoying the tiny charges that scurried up and down her arm—secure, not overpowering or controlling. And that single gesture gave her a new look at Matt Hawkins. He had a tender side, a side she was certain he rarely displayed. She wondered what other secrets rested beneath his tough-guy exterior.
* * *
Much to Della’s delight, Matt drove them downtown to the South Street Seaport. It was a perfect night to be on the boardwalk, watching the lights from the multitude of cafés and shops glimmer along the folds of the sea. Couples of all ages and ethnicities walked hand-in-hand, hugging and stealing kisses. Frazzled fathers and mothers chased their children in and out of stores as they searched for the perfect family spot to have dinner. Music drifted along the night air coming from the open doorways of the restaurants and music outlets.
At first Matt and Della walked companionably beside each other, taking in the sights, enjoying the atmosphere. It seemed only natural that he would take her hand, ease her close, and that she would look up at him, her eyes bright with acceptance, and gently squeeze his hand in hers. It was easy, comfortable, and exhilarating all at the same time. Most of all, it was new.
“This was a wonderful idea,” Della said. “I love the water.”
“So do I. I spent the first ten years of my life in the Caribbean.”
Della’s eyes widened. “Really? Which island?”
“Barbados.”
“Get outta here. You’d never know it. There’s not a trace of an accent.”
“I’ve been here most of my life. I guess I learned to adapt, so I could fit in.”
“Yeah, I guess you would have to. Kids can be so cruel sometimes.”
“You get used to it. But I had my share of torture before my skin toughened. I can still go back to my roots, when need be, mon,” he said with the perfect combination of island charm and musical lilt.
Della tossed her head back and laughed. “You’re good … almost authentic,” she teased.
“I’m better than good,” he tossed back, stopping suddenly and pulling Della close. He looked down into her startled eyes, letting his gaze trail across her face, down the slender column of her neck, then back up again. “I’m the real thing, Della.” His thumb delicately stroked her bottom lip.
Della’s body began to tremble from the inside out and she didn’t care who was looking or what they thought about a woman her age being seduced in the middle of the boardwalk in New York on a big Friday night.
His kiss was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert, Della thought when his lips touched hers and his muscled arms wrapped comfortably around her waist. She sank into him, drinking him in, inhaling his scent, the taste of him. She felt almost light-headed with joy and didn’t want it to stop, but knew that it should.
“I think we may be causing a scene, Mr. Hawkins,” Della whispered against his mouth.
“Maybe some other time, with some other woman, I might have cared,” he responded, his voice low and intimate, settling down in the center of her. His gaze continued to heat her flesh. “Not with you.”
“I’m not sure I know what’s happening anymore between us, with me. I—I’ve never—”
“Felt this way so suddenly about anyone before,” Matt said, finishing her sentence.
Della flashed a coy smile. “Or met anyone who could read my mind.”
Matt ran his finger down her nose. “I was going to say the very same thing,” he teased, hugging her to him, relishing the feel of her body pressed against his before stepping back. “But being the gentleman that I am, I’m going to take you to dinner as promised and keep my personal wants in check.”
“And what might those wants be?” Della asked, feeling totally free and daring.
“Why don’t I tell you all about them over dinner and some good music under the stars?”
“I like the sound of that.”
Matt took her hand and headed for a boat docked on the pier.
* * *
They boarded the boat and were quickly seated at a table with a glorious view of the river. From the deck above, they could hear the jazz band playing its rendition of Ellington’s classic “Take the A Train.”
Dinner was a seafood soufflé—the house special—with a side garden salad, saffron rice, and a bottle of chilled red wine.
Della and Matt shared the short-lived histories of their respective marriages, the effect marriage had on them, and their children.
“Chauncie grew up not being able to attach herself to anything or anyone,” Della said. She took a sip of her wine. “I suppose it was her way of keeping herself from being hurt. Then she turned to the theater and acting. A world of pretend.”
“But she finally settled down. She’s on her honeymoon, isn’t she?”
Della nodded. “Thank the stars for Drew. It was the best thing I could have done, getting the two of them together.”
“My daughter swears I’m the devil in disguise,” Matt said morosely.
“Why?”
“She hates what I do, but she loves what it can provide for her.”
Della leaned closer, resting on her forearms. “Why do you do it, Matt? I mean, the more I talk with you, spend time with you, you seem so completely different from the kind of man you project.”
“To be truthful, for a long time, especially after my marriage collapsed, I was that guy. I was hurt, disappointed, and alone.” He looked toward the glistening water. “Everything I did, the hours I put in, was for them, my wife and daughter. I wanted to give them the best, something my father had never provided for me and my mother. I didn’t want that for my family. So I worked relentlessly to the exclusion of everything, and the very thing that I was working for is what I lost. I was so consumed with providing and giving things that I ignored what they really needed—me.”
“Matt … I’m so sorry. You don’t have to talk about this.”
“After they were gone,” he continued as if he didn’t hear her, “I threw myself into my work with a vengeance. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I enjoyed making people as miserable and unhappy as I was.”
Della inwardly cringed.
“Can I get either of you anything else?” a waiter asked, suddenly appearing like an apparition.
“Nothing for me,” Della said.
“No, thanks,” Matt replied.
Della focused in on Matt. “Why the turnaround?”
He told her how he’d been feeling recently, the painful statement from his daughter, and then meeting her.
“I knew it was time for a change, Della. And maybe it was this job of mine that brought us together, but I damned sure don’t want it to be what comes between us.” He covered her hand with his.
Della looked into his eyes, a wicked smile on her full mouth. “Do they have dancing on this showboat?”
His right brow slowly lifted. “They sure do. On the top deck.”
“Well, let’s see if you’re as good on the dance floor as you are with my W-2s.”
* * *
For the rest of the evening they forgot about what had brought them together. They danced under the stars and talked about movies they loved and hated, books they’d read, childhood mishaps, and places they wanted to travel to—one day.
They fit when they danced, one body in tune with the other. Their laughter and soft whisperings were in perfect harmony. And their time together moved as slow and gentle as the waves that cradled the ship.
When they stood in front of Della’s front door, the kiss they shared was inevitable, the only ending to an unforgettable evening.
“We’ve got to find a way to make things work between us, Della,” Matt said with an urgency in his voice, cupping her face in his hands. “No matter what happens with this tax thing—I don’t want it to come between us.”
“But what if it does, Matt? How will we be able to look at each other if I lose everything? How?”
“Please, just trust me. I’ll find a way—somehow.” His eyes glided over her stricken expression. “I feel alive again, Della, for the first time in years. It’s because of you and the possibilities that you represent. I’m not willing to let that go.”
Reluctantly, Della stepped back. She looked downward, unable to face him with what she was about to say.
“You may have to, Matt. Face it. Whatever this is that’s happening between us is making us lose sight of reality.”
“What are you saying, Della?”
She swallowed down the knot in her throat.
“Look at me, Della, please. What are you telling me?”
Slowly she met his stare. “I’m saying … that I don’t know if I can separate the two. A part of me wants to take this relationship and run with it as far as we can take it. Another part of me, the practical side, says to cut my losses before I get hurt—really hurt.”
Matt tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. “So, you’re telling me you want out.”
“Before it goes too far.”
“I see. So what you said in the shop, our evening together tonight, everything I’ve said to you means nothing.” His stomach knotted. The corner of his mouth curved in a sad half-smile. “I thought, at least I’d hoped, you were tougher than that. You don’t give me the impression of being the type of woman who’d run at the first sign of trouble. I guess I was wrong.”
Della stood there, unable to say what was really in her heart, the fact that she was falling too fast and too hard for Matt Hawkins, and that he had the power to not only break her spirit, but her heart. And it frightened her—frightened her even more than the possibility of losing the shop. She couldn’t risk that kind of pain, that kind of loss, not at this stage of her life. She didn’t know if she’d recover.
“I, uh, guess I’d better be going.”
Della pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.
“Thanks for a great evening.” He turned to leave. He wanted to run before he said something really foolish. Maybe she was right, he thought, walking down the three steps to the sidewalk. Maybe they both should cut their losses. Then why did he feel so damned lousy if it was so right?
He stopped with his hand on the handle of the car door.
When his wife left him, he didn’t do anything to bring her home. He turned his back on that chapter of his life and kept going, even though it was killing him inside. Maybe it was best in that situation, but he would never know, he hadn’t tried. This was different. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
He turned back and Della was still standing in the doorway, outlined by the soft white light from the foyer. With slow but steady determination, he returned to where he’d stood only moments earlier.
Della’s eyes widened and her heart raced with anticipation. She opened her mouth to speak, but Matt held up his hand to stop her.
“I don’t plan to give you up this easy. I did it once and it turned me into someone even I didn’t like. I don’t intend to do it again.” He stepped closer. “Now, maybe you think it’s going to be easy to just let this go as if it never happened.” He stared directly into her eyes. “I don’t. And I’m going to make walking away from me the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, Della Frazier.”
He took her chin between his fingers, tilted it upward, and kissed her long and hard.
He let her go and stepped back, and Della would have sworn she heard fireworks, during twilight’s last gleaming, stars bursting in air, the whole bit. Her head was spinning and her heart was racing so fast she could barely breathe.
“They don’t call me Take-No-Prisoners Hawkins for nothing, sweetheart. Sleep well.”
This time he got into his car and drove away.
Della half walked, half stumbled into her house. Her keys had fallen out of her shaky fingers so many times, the clanging was making her ears ring.
While she fumbled with the keys in the lock, she kept taking surreptitious glances over her shoulder, certain that at any moment Matt would return and assault her with another earthshaking kiss. He didn’t, but she kept the feel of his lips, the power of his touch, the scent of him, the depth of his voice close to her as she prepared for bed.
When she finally drifted to sleep, it was with a smile on her lips, hope in her heart, and an itch that she desperately wanted scratched.