Page 30 of Ace of Spades
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nate was nervous as hell, which was stupid. Taylor was his best friend. He’d spent more hours with her than he could count, so why was his heart beating as if it might go into cardiac arrest as he walked up to her door? He hadn’t lied when he said he’d never been on a date. No proms or school dances, as there had never been extra money for nice clothes and other date-related expenses.
Then he’d held down two part-time jobs through college, and what spare time he had was dedicated to studying and raising his brothers. Sometimes he’d been jealous of his classmates when hearing them talk of their dates for football games or other school events, but he’d shaken the envy off by burying his nose deeper into his textbooks.
After graduating, he’d managed to achieve his goal, landing a job with the FBI. His experience with women consisted of hooking up for a few hours of pleasure. Now here was Taylor, shaking up his world. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A part of him was excited, but the other part wanted to know just what he thought he was doing.
He popped a Tic Tac into his mouth and then knocked on her door. When she opened it, whatever words he’d been about to saydisappeared. The woman standing in front of him in a killer black dress was the most gorgeous, sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He swallowed hard as all the blood in his body took a direct route south. Instead of telling her to wear something sexy, he should have told her to wear a burlap bag. Although she’d probably manage to look great in one of those, too.
“Here,” he finally managed, pushing the bouquet of red roses wrapped in tissue into her hands. Along with her being his first-ever date, she was the first woman he’d ever given flowers. He’d spent an hour in a florist shop debating what to buy, until the owner had assured him he couldn’t go wrong with roses.
She lifted them to her nose, inhaling deeply. “They’re beautiful. Thank you. Come in while I put them in water.”
Tell her she’s beautiful.He stood inside the door, watching her fill a vase. He could have taken her straight to bed the other night when he’d finally given in to what now seemed inevitable. She’d made it clear she would have been fine with that. But she deserved more than a quick roll in the sack. He snorted. There would be nothing quick about it.
“That dress is a killer. You look beautiful, Taylor.” The black dress hugged every curve, the hem stopping about two inches above her knees. He particularly liked the bodice, his eyes falling on the hint of breasts visible above the straight line of material. The two-inch-wide straps fell over the tops of her arms, giving the illusion that the dress might slide down her body at any moment. He was good with that.
But it was the back of the dress—or the lack of—that had him thinking he might need oxygen if he wanted to continue breathing. It ended in avat her lower spine, and his hands itched to touch all that creamy skin. His gaze lowered to the strappy black heels and her cherry-red painted toenails. He was going to enjoy peeling her out of that dress later, but he might let her keep on the do-me shoes.
She glanced over at him, a shy smile on her face. “Thank you.”
He liked how she accepted a compliment. No trying to deflect it, or no coy eyelash fluttering as if she’d expected him to pay homage to her beauty.
“You clean up pretty nice, too.”
“I try.” Although he preferred jeans and T-shirts, he owned a few suits, mainly worn to weddings, funerals, and the few times Rothmire made him attend a meeting with the brass. He’d spent more time than he ever had before on deciding what to wear, finally settling on a suit and dress shirt. That was it, other than his ruby earring, a watch, and his hair banded in a ponytail. No tie. He hated the damn things.
Taylor carried the vase to her minuscule living room, setting it on the coffee table. His eyes tracked how her body moved in her dress. He tore his gaze away before he started panting like a Saint Bernard in the middle of August.
“There you go, Henry,” she said. “Something pretty to look at while I’m gone.”
Nate eyed the fish that had his nose pressed up to the glass. “I didn’t buy the flowers for the damn fish, Taylor.”
“No you didn’t.” She walked to him, her hips swaying in a seductive way that he’d never known she had in her. “The flowers are all mine, Nate.” She slipped her finger inside thevof his shirt, giving a little tug. “I’m just letting him enjoy them for a while.” She gave another tug, lifted onto her toes, and bit his bottom lip. “I might even sleep with my flowers after I get home ... Unless something better comes along.”
He grinned. Who was this woman? Taylor had never been shy about speaking her mind, but she was blowing his tonight.
“Ah, you can smile.” She let go of his shirt, walked to the door, glanced over her shoulder, and said, “Coming?”
“You can count on it.” With that one word, she’d put an image in his head that did nothing to help him get blood circulating back into his brain. He’d known Taylor for two years. She’d been his best friend for the past year, and he’d always liked her. He really liked this new version.
After she locked up behind them, he put his hand on her lower back, not because she was incapable of walking by herself, but because he absolutely had to touch her. Her skin was soft and silky, and her body heat seeped into his fingers, warming his palm. When they reached his car, he opened the door for her, then before she could slide in, he kissed her. Because he absolutely had to do that, too.
“Mmm,” she murmured when he lifted his head. “I don’t usually kiss on the first date.” Then she smiled. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”
He cocked a brow. “Any other rules I should know about?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. No checking out other women when you’re with me.”
“Trust me, tiger, you have my undivided attention.” He closed the door, and as he walked around the car, he frowned, wondering why she’d said that.
“I have one question,” he said after sliding into the driver’s seat.
“What’s that?”
“You told me once that you’ve had two boyfriends. Did one or both have a roving eye?” Even as he asked, his eyes roved right to her legs as she settled into the seat, causing her dress to slide up her thighs. But she hadn’t said there was a rule against checking her out, so he should be good there.
“One did. How did you know?”
