Authors: Sophia Knightly
Chapter Thirteen
Everything is ready for dinner with Alex tonight and I have a few minutes to spare. The table is set with my best china and linens. After seeing his mother’s fancy-shmancy house yesterday, I figure I better step it up since he’s used to the best. Tiny ivory votives surround the colorful spring bouquet Alex brought me two nights ago, and sultry Brazilian jazz is playing in the background.
There’s no reason to be feeling so antsy, but I am. I decided to put off the Romeo test until later. He’s already at Fizzy’s place and will spend the night there. She told me she has a surprise for me when I pick up Romeo tomorrow morning. I’m dying to know what it is, but when I asked, she giggled and mumbled something that sounded like noodle. Fizzy has the strangest sense of humor sometimes.
I peek in the foyer mirror making sure my hair hasn’t frizzed—it hasn’t—and that my Deep Throat lip gloss is still shiny—it is. My Tiffany bracelet twinkles in the light as I adjust the V neckline on my turquoise halter dress to highlight the girls, but not flaunt them. Everything is in place, ready for Dr. Heart.
Antoinette was tied up all day planning the winter programming, so after taping my medical segment, I left early. First, I stopped to buy a bottle of Vitamin D. (After researching my segment, I decide my bones need more calcium so I won’t end up with osteoporosis.) Then I popped into the Perfect Ten Salon for a mani/pedi, a bikini and leg wax, and a spray mist tanning session.
The phone rings and I run to check caller ID, but don’t answer when I see it’s Harrison. I feel bad about not taking his call—it’s the third time he’s called me since last night. The previous two times he left a message, his deep voice reminded me of hot kisses and my tummy did somersaults.
This time he doesn’t leave a message. I know I should talk to him, but not today. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m still confused and tormented by my strong attraction to him. It would help if it was only a physical attraction, but I like his personality too.
I glance at my watch. Where is Alex? It’s half an hour later and I’m worried my meal isn’t going to hold up. Even the candles have melted around the wicks.
I begin to wonder if he’s going to stand me up, when Alex arrives looking cool and exotic in a white linen
guayabera
and jeans that stretch across his muscular thighs. He hands me a bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio and kisses me on the cheek before entering my apartment.
“
Hola
,
linda
, nice dress,” Alex says, eyeing me as if I’m the appetizer tonight.
“
Gracias
.” I follow behind, watching him breeze into my apartment with self-assurance.
“I like it here. Your place is small, but cozy.” He looks around with a curious expression. “Where’s your cute doxie?”
Wow, he remembered Romeo, called him cute and used the short name for dachshunds. Way to go, Alex! You just scored big time.
I give him an encouraging smile. “Romeo’s visiting with my neighbor.”
“Which one?” Alex narrows his eyes. “Harrison?”
“No, Fizzy. She’s my friend and Romeo’s dog sitter.”
“Good.” The way Alex says it reminds me he has a jealous streak.
I fidget with the sides of my skirt until I realize I look like a total ninny standing there staring at him.
“Are you on call tonight? I mean, should we eat right away or would you like to relax with a glass of wine first?”
Alex crosses over and plops down on my sofa, making himself right at home. “I’m not on call tonight.” He pats the space beside him. “Come here. We haven’t had a chance to really get to know each other.”
I’m glad he wants to
really
get to know me, but something in his gleaming black gaze makes me stall.
“Um, well, let me open this bottle first. I’ll be right back.” I retreat to the kitchen and take a few deep breaths to control my racing heart. When I return with a wine bottle opener and two goblets, I think I’m composed until I fumble with the cork. With a chuckle, Alex stops me by taking my hand and kissing it.
I get a feeling of déjà vu. Wasn’t I doing the same thing last night, but in a different place and with a different man? I ask myself ironically. This feels different, though. I don’t know Alex as well as I know Harrison. Maybe that’s why this whole scenario is making me jumpy.
How much does he expect from me tonight
, I wonder, as his moist lips trail kisses and little bites on my neck. I squirm when his palms squeeze my bottom, making me remember Fizzy’s comment about Santiago preferring a succulent chicken. Wow, he moves fast—a little too fast. I shoot up from the sofa and inadvertently kick his shin.
“Hey. Where are you going?” Alex asks, rubbing his leg.
“Oops, sorry. I just remembered I have to check my dinner.” I rush into the kitchen, away from Alex, hoping to cool him off. He is one sizzling Latin lover. But while he’s on base three and ready for a homerun, I’m still in the dugout.
Who knew I could have this kind of effect on men? First Devon, then Harrison and now Alex. I’m flabbergasted. There must be something in the tropical heat or the water down here. I never had this much luck with men in New York. I mean, before moving down, I hadn’t had a decent date in over a year.
Buying time, I throw a baguette in the warm oven to crisp it up.
Calm down, deep breaths.
I think I’ll serve dinner and delay his libido until we get better acquainted.
I return to the table carrying two crisp salads artfully arranged on small plates. “I’m afraid if we don’t eat now, the salmon will dry out. Sorry to rush you.”
Alex seems fine with putting the brakes on his moves. He flashes his movie star smile and heads toward the table. Holding out a chair, he seats me first and then sits down across from me. I like his fine manners.
“If it tastes as good as it smells, I can’t wait to eat. We’ll go back to relaxing after dinner,” he says with a wink.
He calls that relaxing?
We chat and eat and everything is going great while he tells me about himself. I’m spellbound as I listen.
“That is some pedigree—Columbia medical school and then a PhD from Stanford!” I exclaim after Alex recounts his extensive training. I’m awestruck that he’s accomplished so much and he’s only in his mid-thirties. “So much hard work and sacrifice.”
“It’s not a sacrifice. I love my work,” he says with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “The downside of being away was how much my mom and sisters missed me. They constantly spoiled me with care packages and visits.”
I’ll bet. La Dragona must have been miserable while Alex was away. “How nice. Are they the reason you returned to live in Miami?”
“Of course. Our family is big and close knit. You should see our
Noche Buena
. That’s Christmas Eve,” he explains.
“Yes, I’ve heard about the roasted pig. Not exactly heart healthy, but it must be delicious.”
Alex chuckles. “This salmon tastes so good. How did you make it?”
“It’s my mom’s recipe. I thought you would like it since it’s low fat,” I say, taking a sip of the Pinot Grigio while I figure out what else to say.
Alex doesn’t know that I cheated tonight. Mom made the ginger glazed salmon with the mango salsa, the almond jasmine rice and the broiled asparagus. All I did was pick up a baby field greens salad and a key lime pie at Epicure Market. But hey, this was an impromptu invitation. It’s not as if I had all day to shop and cook.
“I prefer home cooking to eating out,” Alex says. “The woman I marry someday will have to be a good cook like my mom.”
“I love to cook,” I blurt out. So what if it’s a teeny white lie? I do love cooking—for the holidays. “I like eating in too, but that meal we had at Ortanique was amazing.”
Come to think of it, Alex hasn’t reimbursed me for it yet. Maybe that’ll jog his memory.
“Yes, too bad it had to end so abruptly,” he says with a smile.
I smile back and don’t mention the huge bill. I’m sure he’ll pay me tonight before he leaves. I mean he has impeccable manners and he is a regular at Ortanique. I wonder why he didn’t have them put the bill on his tab. Never mind, I just remembered he was rushing to save a patient’s life.
Giving him an admiring glance, I get up and clear the dinner dishes. When I return from the kitchen bearing two slices of key lime pie, he’s beaming at me.
“This pie reminds me of the one my mother makes,” Alex says, taking a bite of it.
Ha. I’m sure La Dragona’s recipe is the same as mine: go to the bakery, pay twelve bucks, and serve it on your best china.
“My boss Antoinette is thrilled that you’ll be hosting Bowled Over,” I say, steering the conversation away from Alex’s mom. “Can you come to the station this week for an interview? If we feature you, we’ll get even more interest in the station’s heart campaign and in Bowled Over.”
Alex looks pleased. “How about tomorrow around noon? I’ll meet with you at the station after my rounds at the hospital.”
“Perfect.” Wow, that was easy. He is so relaxed after our wonderful meal. I’ll have to call Mom as soon as he leaves and thank her for all her hard work.
“I’m looking forward to the bowling for charity event. It’s a smart way of getting the message out there to exercise. Was it your idea?” His dark eyes search mine and I’m dazzled by his admiring glance.
“Yes,” I say with a humble shrug.
“I’ve been to Lucky Strikes for bowling birthday parties, but never for a charity event. Very clever,
linda
.” Alex’s espresso eyes glimmer with appreciation.
“Thanks.” I’m thrilled I’ve impressed him and I’m glowing in Alex’s compliments, smiling at him, when he suddenly takes the dessert plate away from me. I look at the remaining morsel of pie on my plate and realize I’ve been gorging myself. (I got carried away in the kitchen and served rather large portions.)
His mouth turns stern. “You’re not going to finish that, are you?”
“Um…I was planning to. Why?” I ask, taken aback by his disapproving look.
“A moment on your lips, a lifetime on your hips,” he murmurs, soothing the sting of his warning with a megawatt smile.
Gosh, what a mood killer, I think darkly. Why did he have to say that? Do my hips look that big in this dress? Did he get too much of a handful a little while ago? I’m feeling a bit self-conscious as he gives me a knowing look. I guess he’s not into succulence like lucky Fizzy’s lover is.
“I’m not worried about my hips,” I lie, but now that he mentioned them, I can’t help worrying. “I’ll work off the calories tomorrow by jogging.”
The doorbell rings and Alex quirks a thick, black eyebrow. “Were you expecting someone?”
“No,” I say, wondering who it is. I remain seated at the table, stalling. I’d rather not get up and have Alex check out my behind as I walk to the door, especially after his last condemning comment. But there’s nothing I can do, I have to answer it or look like I’m avoiding someone.
I take a deep breath, go to the door and open it a crack.
Damn
. It’s Harrison.
I almost close the door again, but I know Harrison won’t buy that. I wink my eye rapidly and nod toward the living room without uttering a word.
Harrison gives me a weird look. “Frankie, why haven’t you returned my calls?” I groan inwardly and double up on my winking when his deep voice carries into the room.
Prying the door open, Harrison barges in and takes my face in his square hands as he peers into my eyes. “What’s wrong with your eye?”
“Nothing.” My shoulders slump in mute despair while I watch him stroll inside.
“I have company…” I say, my voice trailing off lamely.
Stopping in front of Alex, whose black eyes are blazing, Harrison gives him a nod and pulls a chair from the table. He sits down and says, “Got any leftovers? I’m starved.”
Men
. I could smack Harrison.
Alex slaps his napkin on the table and pushes back his chair. His face dark with fury, he gets up and strides out the door without saying a word. Man, he’s got a quick temper on him.
“Where are you going?” I jump up and run after him. “Alex, come back!” But it’s too late, he’s already taken the elevator.
Annoyed, I return to find Harrison grinning and looking smug.
I glower at him. “I don’t think it’s funny. Why did you do that?”
“There’s something I don’t like about that guy,” he has the nerve to say.
“I don’t care if you like him or not!” I poke Harrison’s solid chest with my forefinger.
“Hey, watch it.” Harrison’s hand closes over mine and removes it from his chest. “He’s not for you, Frankie. I’m just saving you the heartache.”
“Who made you my matchmaker?” I yank my hand out of his and both my hands form into fists at my sides. I don’t know who I’d like to punch first, Harrison for ruining my date with Alex, or Alex for stalking out like a two-year-old.
Take a deep breath.
Don’t let Harrison take the upper hand. I unclench my hands and get a grip. “Every time Alex has come here, you stop by uninvited and unannounced. He must think you come and go as if we’re living together.” I level a firm look at him. “You need to leave now. I have to do damage control with Alex.”
“Listen to me, Frankie. There’s something not right about that guy.”