Miles Page 7

  My cheeks flushed and I was glad that the room had dim lighting and that Jasmine had applied a generous layer of foundation and blush. “Thank you. You too.”

  Miles laughed. “Thanks, I tried,” he teased.

  Damn, that smile. “You know what I mean,” I replied. “I would say clean up nicely, but the first time we met you were wearing a fancy-schmancy suit.”

  “So, what you’re saying is you like me a little dressed down?” He leaned in, bringing his lips dangerously close before veering off to my ear. “A little dirty, maybe?”

  Shit.

  I shivered and sucked in a breath. “I like the jeans, all right? That’s as far as you’re gonna get me to go.”

  He grinned. “For now. The night’s still young.” Before I could fire back another volley of banter, he turned to glance at the hostess station. “Did you check in already? The reservation is under my name.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t sure if you’d made reservations.”

  He arched a brow at me. “Of course I did. I’m a gentleman, remember?”

  I laughed as he extended his elbow to me. “How could I forget?”

  “Does that mean you’ve been having less than gentlemanly thoughts about me, Penny?”

  I bit my lip, there was seriously something about the way he said my name. It got to me. Big time. I shook my head. “Let’s get to our table. If you’re really as good as you say you are, I’ll tell you all about it by the time dinner is over.”

  He gave a nod and led the way through the crowded entry space to the black podium where a woman in a sleek, blood red cocktail dress and perfectly coordinated lipstick smiled widely at Miles. “Good evening. Welcome to Paso Doble. Your name?”

  It was like I didn’t even exist. I glanced over at Miles, wondering where his eyes were, as the woman’s cleavage was both impressive and hard to miss. But he smiled over at me and said, “A table for two. Under Miles Warren.”

  I cut away from his glance to see the woman cast me a polite—but frosty—smile. “Of course.”

  Jealous much?

  The ashes from the confidence train crash started to shift and rebuild.

  As we followed the woman—and her excessively swaying hips—to our table, Miles asked, “I’ve never been here before. You?”

  I nodded. “A couple of times. They have killer margaritas. I’m partial to the passion fruit, but they’re all delish.”

  “Mmm. I see,” he grinned at me, the suggestions alive in the gleam of his eyes.

  I patted his arm playfully. “You really are a bad boy.”

  He chuckled softly. “You have no idea.”

  The hostess sat us at our table, handed us the two leather bound menus, and stalked off back to her station without offering so much as the drink specials for the night. Oh well. I already knew what I wanted. A passion fruit margarita on the rocks, with extra salt, and then to take the rest of the bottle of tequila back to Miles’ hotel room and do him like I owned him.

  Down girl. Let the man buy you dinner first. It hasn’t been that long…

  Okay, it kinda had.

  Miles popped his menu opened and glanced down the listed offerings. “So, the margaritas are good? What else?”

  “I’m going for the…” I paused, my mouth wanting the crispy, fried fish tacos. But, a flash to my reflection in the mirror and the realization that I’d packed on a few extra pounds since our last visit came back to me with a nasty sting. I’d forgotten all about it since the moment Miles had walked through the door. “Chicken salad,” I finished after an awkward pause.

  Miles glanced at me over the top of his menu. “Really? Out of all this?”

  I nodded and pushed my menu aside. “Yes. It’s really good.”

  I’d never had it.

  “Hmm.” He went back to perusing for another half a minute and then snapped his menu shut and set it on top of mine. “All right, so, where should we start?”

  “With?”

  “Us,” he replied, his tone sure and confident.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Us? I wasn’t aware there was an us,” I said, laughing under my breath.

  Miles chuckled. “Come on, you know what I mean. What should we talk about?”

  Our server came over to take our drink order and gave me a minute to think about possible topic ideas while Miles rattled off our order. The server disappeared and Miles’ gaze came right back to me. “Ya know, you’re the one whose been planning this date for what, five months? So, I figure that you must have something you want to talk about. You’ve had more time to prepare,” I said.

  Miles laughed. “You’re tough. I like that. All right, fair enough, let’s start with your art. I really liked the pictures featured with your interview in The Ruby Rose. It wasn’t a magazine I’d picked up before, but when I saw you on the cover, I went through the whole thing. Very cool stuff.”

  “Thank you.” I ducked my chin, always finding it odd to talk about my work. I was proud of what I’d done, but I didn’t want to come across as braggy about something so personal.

  “How long have you been a photographer?” Miles continued, wrapping his large hand around his glass of ice water. I studied his fingers, surprised to find them a little banged up. One finger had a nearly healed cut on the side and his knuckles looked a little rough like he’d gotten into a fight or something. In our shared social circles, I was used to men who got more frequent manicures than some of the women I knew, keeping their nails short, clean, and buffed to shiny perfection at all times. And God forbid they get a callous. Miles, on the other hand, looked like he probably had a few callouses.

  I swept a strand of hair behind my ear and paused while the server returned long enough to give us our drinks. I took a deep drink from my margarita and sighed. Heaven.

  “Damn, you’re right. They do make a good margarita,” Miles said. “Not normally my bag, but I figured I’d give it a shot. Good call.”

  I laughed. “That’s right. You’re a whiskey man, huh?”

  He looked surprised and then smiled. “So you have been thinking about me, huh?”

  I rolled my eyes playfully and took another sip of my own drink.

  “All right, all right. Back to photography.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “My dad got me a camera back when I was really young, like first grade young, right before we took a family trip. That was the beginning and I’ve never really stopped.”

  “Very cool. I bet he’s really proud of you.”

  A shot of pain hit me. I nodded but couldn’t find a smile.

  “Penny?” Miles crinkled his brow.

  “Sorry,” I replied, fluttering my lashes to clear away the burning sensation. It didn’t matter how much time passed, I would never get over losing my father. “I’m sure he would be. He actually passed away when I was in high school.”

  “Shit,” Miles whispered. “I’m so sorry, I…God, I should have known that, huh?”

  I shook my head. “No, no.”

  “Earl? Right? Earl Laken?” he asked, after searching his memory.

  I smiled. “That’s right. You have a good memory too.”

  “You know, small circles. I grew up inside the bubble.”

  I laughed softly. “The bubble. That’s a good way of putting it.”

  Miles smiled at me, though the edges of it were rounded now, more compassion than devilish charm. “What do you call it?”

  “Either the ninth circle of hell or the socialite circus. Depending on my mood.”

  He dropped his head back and laughed loudly. I joined in and the heavy mood lifted. “That’s good. I’ll have to remember that. You know, it’s almost weird that we’ve never met before. I mean, my family obviously knows your family. I think I even remember meeting your parents once or twice at different events. Where were you?”

  “Boarding school, here in New York actually. My parents’ estate is in Connecticut.”

  “No way!” Miles’ eyes went wide.

  “Uh huh
. My mother liked the idea of being a mom, more than the reality. She shipped me off, despite my father’s protests, and I only went home over the summer.”

  “Damn. That’s cold.”

  “Yeah. My dad would come and visit me all the time and we’d walk through the park together. That’s where the inspiration for my photos comes from. I do a lot of shooting there.”

  Miles nodded. “The photos are amazing.”

  “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

  Miles folded his arms and rested them on the edge of the table. “So, what’s the next step? The article mentioned a book?”

  I took a sip of water and licked the remnants from my lips. “Yeah. I’m working to finish a book of photographs and my agent is shopping it around to all the publishing houses to have it printed as a large, coffee table art book.”

  “That’s really cool.” He shook his head as though in disbelief.

  “What?” I asked, feeling the heat of the spotlight.

  “Nothing,” he said, smiling. “I’m just impressed.”

  There was something else in his eyes, but I wasn’t going to pry and beg for more. I could be patient. In theory.

  “What were you expecting? Some tart who only likes shopping and spa days?”

  Miles laughed loudly. “Shit. No, not at all. I’m not that much of a dick.”

  I grinned. “All right. Well in case you were worried, yes, I have more than two brain cells to rub together. My hair is naturally this color, but that doesn’t make me a dumb blonde.”

  Miles held up his hands in surrender. “Not my impression. Trust me, if I was here simply because I thought you’d be a good time, I would have stayed back in Georgia. I don’t typically buy a plane ticket for something like a booty call.”

  “Good to know.” I laughed. “So, what made you call then? You figured you’d get to have dinner with me before I make it big? That way you have eternal bragging rights of knowing the impossibly fabulous Penelope Laken back before her rise to fame.”

  “Something like that,” he replied with a lopsided grin. He was enjoying keeping me guessing.

  The server returned to us and placed our meals in front of us. To my surprise, the chicken salad actually was delicious and while my mouth missed the buttery way the fried fish would have melted on my tongue, it was a small sacrifice to make for having a better chance at fitting into my favorite dress next time we saw each other.

  The thought stopped me cold and I glanced up at Miles as he busied himself with putting his linen napkin across his lap—like the proper gentleman he claimed to be—and realized I’d never started planning my outfit for a second date while still halfway through the first.

  Chapter Ten

  Miles

  Dinner with Penny was like having an ice cold beer after a day in the desert. She was equal parts smart and smart-mouthed and I couldn’t get enough. On top of that, she was hot as hell and apparently didn’t know it. Her words and quick wit were all flash and bravado, but there were other moments where I’d catch her blushing or looking down at the table like she was slightly embarrassed.

  Even her choice in venue was practically dripping with sex. The rich, plush furnishings, dark walls, cozy tables, soft lighting, and the music, filled the whole restaurant with seduction. But then, she’d worn a relatively conservative dress. At least, by comparison to the people around us. It was cut short and low enough to make a nun blush and gave me plenty of ideas as to what she’d look like out of it. And those ideas were certainly enough to get my motor and gears clicking along at a quick pace. But the stark opposition had me puzzled.

  It was going to take me some time to figure her out. And for the first time in a long, long time, I wanted to.

  I had to—I was going to convince her to marry me.

  “So, what about you?” she asked, drawing me back.

  I wiped my mouth with my napkin and swallowed my bite. “What about me? I’m an open book so ask away.”

  “What do you do? I mean, I know you’re in the military, but what do you do?”

  “Aha. Well that’s top secret,” I teased.

  “Let me guess, you’ll have to take me back to your hotel if I want to know all your secrets?” she fired back, grinning at me over her margarita before she took a sip, her blue eyes not leaving mine.

  “Hey, if you’re offering…” I drawled. “I usually save that talk for dessert.” I winked at her and leaned back in my seat.

  She tossed away my comment with a shake of her head but the smile on her lips told me all I needed to know. She wanted me. Now. And if she was anything close to as fiery in bed as she was in conversation—I was gonna have a very good night—we were going to have a very good night.

  “Seriously, though, what’s your deal?”

  I laughed. “I’m an Army Ranger. Special ops, on the ground, intel kind of stuff.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah. It’s been my life for almost ten years now. I enlisted when I was seventeen, went to boot camp when I was eighteen, right after graduation, did a couple tours in Iraq and have been at Fort Benning ever since.”

  “Impressive. So that makes you…twenty-eight?”

  I nodded. “You?”

  “I’ll be twenty-seven in a couple of months.”

  I bit back a comment about arranging for her birthday spankings, choosing to put the offer on ice until I knew where the night was headed.

  “What do your parents think about your career?” she asked casually, before popping another bite of her meal into her mouth.

  I chuckled. “Good question. Very loaded.”

  She smiled. “My favorite kind.”

  “They weren’t on board, to put it nicely. But once my unit was recognized in a national ceremony and even had the chance to visit the president, they changed their tune. They threw a big party—my mother’s specialty as you might have noticed—”

  “Yes, very nice,” she replied, still grinning. “The salmon was a little bland though.”

  “Oh, the horror!” I said, faking a scandalized gasp.

  Penny giggled and I basked in the easy, free sound.

  “But—if I’m honest—and I like to think I am, I’m at a crossroads right now and it has nothing to do with them. I don’t give two shits what they think about my life choices. In any case, I have a few months to choose between re-upping my contract for another four years or getting out and doing the reserves for a couple years.”

  “You don’t want to stay in?” Penny’s brow crinkled.

  “Yes and no. I want to travel more, to places I choose—not that I get sent to. You know, more sun and surf, less mortar fire and spiders capable of taking down a camel.”

  Penny pulled a face, physically retreating in her seat until her back was pressed against the plush cushion.

  I laughed. “Sorry, but legit, those motherfuckers are nasty.”

  She shuddered. “Okay, talk more about the beach now.”

  I laughed and nodded. “Anyway, I don’t get much leave as it is, and the scheduling can be kind of a nightmare. I don’t want to book a two week trip through France only to get called up on some last minute, classified mission.” I shrugged. “It just doesn’t allow a lot of time for the trips I want to take. Backpacking, wine tasting, doing a cross country trip on my bike. That kinda thing. So, I’m thinking maybe it’s time to shift gears.”

  Penny nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind then.”

  I paused, and then nodded, the realization simple but profound. “I guess so.”

  Penny smiled. “I get like that too.”

  “Like what?”

  “All head case. I think too much, ramble too much, and very rarely do either of them help. Occasionally I’ll go see my shrink and she talks me off the ledge by breaking it down and making it seem simple.”

  I was surprised by her bold confession that she saw a therapist, not something most people would admit to a stranger. Especially not over dinner
on a first date.

  Penny blushed and glanced away from me. “Sorry, that probably makes me sound crazy or something.”

  I reached for her hand as it rested beside her red dinner plate. “Not at all.”

  She dragged her eyes back to mine. The sizzle of the fire was gone. Or, at least dulled.

  “When you grow up like we do, a shrink is a life raft to keeping it all working. Trust me.”

  Truth be told, I’d seen my fair share, especially after getting home from a particularly nasty trip overseas. I’d lost a good friend and after a week spent waking up with an empty bottle in one hand and a mess of thrown and broken belongings, I’d decided to go and talk to someone.

  That was not first date talk though.

  “I think you’re right though, about what I want.” I retracted my hand. “What about you? When you finish the book on Central Park you must have an idea of where to go next.”

  She considered my question for a moment and then shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve been a little too wrapped up in this project and getting it published.” She paused and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, revealing a silver hoop earring. “I’m trying to get it published before the tenth anniversary of my father’s passing. As a tribute to him.”

  I nodded and swallowed a lump in my throat. “An honorable goal. I’m sure you will, especially with the spread in the magazine. I did some digging and found out that The Ruby Rose is right on the pulse of the art world. So, you’re in the right place at the right time.”

  Penny smiled. “What else did you dig up?”

  I grinned at her. “Nothing much. I prefer to be surprised and you struck me as the kind of woman just full of surprises.”

  The glitter in her eyes returned and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. We were finally wading away from the heavy topics and getting back to the light, flirty banter we’d shared the night of the gala, as well as the first half of the date. I didn’t mind heavy stuff. Shit, my life was full of heavy stuff. But I was preparing to drop something on her…at some point over the weekend…and I wanted to keep things fun until then.

  Our server returned and presented us with dessert and drinks menus. As soon as he disappeared, Penny leaned across the table and smiled at me, her lips full and begging to be ravaged. “Is this the part where you try to talk me into going to your hotel?”