Changing Course (14 page)

This time, she picked a simple black strapless dress that accentuates my best attributes, my boobs, and red sling back wedge heels. All of the real drama was in my eye makeup. She gave me the most brilliant smoky eyes I have ever seen. My usual unruly long brown hair has been flat ironed into submission, leaving shiny flowing locks in its place. Despite my best efforts, she forced me into a red lace strapless bra and matching thong that she found pushed to the very back of my panty drawer. Even I'm willing to admit I look kind of amazing tonight.

"I know! Right? You look hot! When are you going to learn to trust my expertise?" Kara says beside me.

"From now on, I vow to wear anything you put in front of me."

"Score! If you think I'm going to forget that, you are sadly mistaken. I have some dirty lingerie you can use next time."

"Eww, I'm not wearing your lingerie."

"Okay, fine, but promise I get to go shopping with you when Hottie McHottersen turns you into a sex fiend."

"Since that is never going to happen, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Yes!" she squeals, grabbing her jacket and getting ready to leave. I made her promise she wouldn't be here when Brett shows up. The last thing I need is for her to be here drooling over him and embarrassing me more than she already has.

"I need every single detail when you get home tonight, or better yet, when you get home tomorrow morning." I just roll my eyes at her. She’s so excited you would think
she
was going to sleep with Brett tonight. Wait, no one is sleeping with him. Not even me, well, at least not tonight.

After pacing my apartment for twenty minutes, I finally hear a knock on the door. I do one last boob lift and smooth out the front of my dress, trying to calm my nerves. I take a deep breath and pull open the door to see the most beautiful man I have ever seen standing in the hall. He is wearing dark jeans that are perfectly washed out around his thighs, a long sleeve black button-up that fits his hard muscular body like a glove. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his defined forearms. I had no idea a man's forearms could turn me on like this. He's wearing black shoes and a belt that so closely match, I swear they were made specifically to be worn together. The entire package causes my mouth to go dry. This man could grace the pages of GQ, yet he is here to pick me up. At least I remembered the push-up bra this time. Maybe that will help me rise to his level.

When I finally make it to his face, I see a knowing smile creep across Brett's mouth. He's caught me checking him out. Great! I'll never hear the end of this.

"Jesus, Jess, you look gorgeous!" he says, leaning over to brush a kiss across my lips. "So we're staying in tonight?"

"Oh, um. Sure."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Settling. I know you didn’t spend that much time getting dressed in that sexy as hell dress, making sure every hair is in place, and putting on enough make up to guarantee there isn't a man in the world who will be able to take his eyes off of you, just to sit on your couch and watch TV. So, I'll repeat. Are we staying in tonight?" He's right. After the time I spent getting ready, there is no way I'd want to waste looking this good, and being on the arm of a man who looks that good, on just staying in.

"Nope, you're taking me out. To somewhere that doesn't have pizza. And just because you are giving me a hard time, I'm ordering the most expensive item on the menu. I hope you brought your life savings with you."

"There she is! No alcohol needed this time, either," he says, pulling me into a hug, running his hands across my bare shoulders. "You really do look incredible tonight. I'm not sure I want to take you out in public. You might cause a few men to spontaneously combust, and I'm terrified one of them might be me." I giggle at his silly compliment.

"You look pretty handsome yourself."

"Apparently, I do. I think I saw you froth at the mouth when you opened the door."

"Not my fault. You were the one who rolled up your sleeves like that."

"What? Jesse Addison, do you have an arm fetish? It's not quite as kinky as I was hoping for, but I can work with that," he says while crossing his arms over his chest and using one hand to slowly stroke his exposed skin. We both start laughing, and it feels awesome to be able to joke with him like this. It's a welcome change from the nervousness I usually feel. I guess giving a man a hickey can really loosen a girl up.

"Oh God, you're ridiculous. Can we please go before you start molesting your poor arms in the middle of my living room? You owe me dinner, remember?"

"Lead the way."

When we get outside, he leads me over to a shiny silver BMW sports car. I freeze as he pulls open my door.

"You have a BMW?" I ask in a voice a little higher pitched than I meant.

"Yes, is that a problem? Do you hate Germans?" He tries to joke, but looks confused.

"Brett, this is a really nice car." He stands waiting for me to get in, but I’m still frozen in place.

"She is, isn't she?" He lovingly runs his hands over the convertible hardtop. The very, very expensive convertible hardtop.

"Where's your Jeep?" I ask because when he drove me home last night, it was in an older model Jeep Wrangler. I surely was not expecting him to show up in a nice sports car today.

"It's at home. This is my other car. I'm not taking you out on our first date in a beat up Jeep I've had since college."

Any comfort I felt with Brett inside has now vanished. It doesn't take a genius to realize this is a successful man. He's gorgeous, drives a nice car, wears fancy clothes, and probably won't even bat an eye when I order the twenty-three dollar steak at dinner. He is like...a real adult. Here I am a too-curvy, twenty-six year old college student, who works in a coffee shop. I share an apartment to keep costs down, and I’m currently wearing my roommate’s clothes because I didn’t want to spend the money on a new outfit tonight. It wasn't until this moment that I realize just exactly how far out of my league I am tonight.

"What's going on, Jesse?"

"Nothing. It’s the Germans thing. Yeah, I hate them." I become unstuck and walk forward, sitting in my seat as he closes the door behind me. Once he folds his huge body into the tiny car, he turns to look at me.

"You do not. Let’s try this again. What's wrong, Jesse?"

"I just wasn't expecting you to have such a nice car that's all."

He chuckles, "I've wanted a BMW since I was a pimple-faced kid. I finally saved up enough money over the years, put down a hefty down payment, and bought it about six months ago. Now, I know it was more than that back there, but I'm really hungry so I'm going to let you work it out on your own. If you want to talk, I'm right here, okay?"

"Okay." I smile back at him as he starts the car and speeds out of my apartment complex.

On the ride to the restaurant we make small talk, and I start to relax again. He's just a regular guy, it's not like he's loaded or anything. He's a detective, they don't make millions. I just have to remind myself of that. Well, that is until he pulls up in front of Langley's Restaurant.

"Oh my God, we are not eating at Langley's!" I screech.

"Why not?" he asks startled.

"This place is crazy expensive!" I continue to scream at a decibel that should have dogs running in my direction.

"Alright, spill it Jess. First you freak about my car, and now about the restaurant. You have some sort of hang up on money?"

"No." I stare down into my lap, embarrassed by my outburst. "I'm sorry. That was really rude of me."

"Don't stop there, tell me what has you all worked up."

"I...um, I... can we just go eat?"

"Absolutely, as soon as you talk to me. I mean, it will take a few minutes for me to unload all the briefcases of cash I have in the trunk, but as soon as I do that we can go inside." He winks at me. I know he is just trying to lighten the mood. That's what Brett does, he makes jokes. Most of the time I like that about him, but tonight his humor isn't helping.

"When you make fun of me, it really makes me want to open up to you all the more," I say sarcastically, causing his smile to quickly fade.

"I wasn't making fun of you. I threatened to punch my best friend in the face for picking on you. I told you I would never make fun of you, and I meant it. I was just teasing to get you to talk to me. I meant nothing by it, and I'm sorry if you took it that way."

Crap. We are fifteen minutes into our first date and I'm already acting like a fool. I either tell him the truth, or allow him to think that I'm a wacko. I'm not sure which is worse.

"Money and expensive things make me uncomfortable. I didn't grow up with money. We weren't destitute or anything, but we definitely didn't have much. My dad took off when I was a kid. My mom raised me and my brother, Eric, all on her own. She was a paralegal at a law firm, so she made enough money to keep the bills paid, but it didn't leave a whole lot left over for fun things or luxuries. I went to public school in a very rich area of Chicago. If you weren't wearing expensive name brands or driving a brand new car, you were looked down on. My mom always felt the need to spend money she didn't have to make sure we had things, yet she wore the same shoes to work for years. I always felt guilty about that and I guess it stuck with me over the years."

I take a deep breath, feeling more awkward now that I've poured my heart out to him than I did when he just thought I was weird. He reaches over, soothing my worries by lifting my hand and planting a brief kiss on my palm before setting it down on his thigh, and covering it with his own.

"Okay, completely understandable. Now, let me tell you a few things about myself. Both my parents are teachers, so I didn't exactly grow up in Beverly Hills. It sounds like we probably had it a little better than you did since they both worked, but I have two older sisters who weren't like you. They didn't feel one bit of guilt asking for nice things. My dad would pick up extra jobs coaching soccer after school to make extra money. He taught me that if you want something, you bust your ass to get it.

I started cutting grass at thirteen to make my own spending money. By the time I was eighteen, I had a small empire. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but that's the way it felt back in those days. I hired two kids to work with me so we could get more done. We stayed busy, because we were cheap and worked hard. Eventually, we were cutting every yard in our neighborhood.

"My junior year in high school, I took an economics class where they gave us fake money to invested in the stock market. I became a bit addicted. What can I say? I'm a little competitive. With my father’s help, I started actually investing my yard money and did pretty well for myself. I put myself through college that way. I didn't live lavishly, but I didn't have to work except for when I went home during the summers.

"What I'm saying Jess is, I get it. I understand the way you grow up can affect your views on things today. But I need you to understand, that is precisely why we are sitting here right now. I'm on a date with a sexy woman, so I'm going to drive my nice car and take her to a delicious restaurant, where she is going to order the most expensive thing on the menu. And I'm okay with that, because I work hard so I can afford these moments. Trust me, gorgeous, this moment is totally worth it." He stops talking, and rubs his thumb ever so slightly across my cheek.

"Now, come over here and give me a kiss so we can go eat."

I breathe a sigh of relief for how Brett laid it all out for me. That could have been a really uncomfortable conversation for me, but he made it easy. He made it something light, and moved on quickly. So I lean into him, showing my gratitude with a passionate kiss. Which leads to another kiss. Which leads to us making out in his car like teenagers for a full fifteen minutes.

"Jesus, woman, we're going to miss our reservation." He smiles against my lips when my hands make their way under his shirt.

His words cause me to laugh and I hear him suck in a breath. I look up and find him watching me with a look on his face that I don't completely understand. It's one of adoration, longing, and most of all, peace. If I thought he was sexy before the look on his face, now is enough to set my body on fire. It takes every ounce of my will power not to launch myself into his lap and rip his clothes off, in such a way that would make Kara proud. Instead, I pull down the visor mirror, dabbing my makeup and correcting my smeared lipstick.

"I'm ready when you are."

"Oh gorgeous, I'll never be ready, but I should probably feed you before I ravage you." His words hold a certain amount of promise that make me wish I brought a spare pair of panties. Before I can over-think things, or ask him to skip dinner, he gets out of the car walking around to open my door. Tightly taking hold of my hand, he guides me into the over-priced restaurant.

D
INNER WAS
amazing. Despite Brett's encouragement, I didn't order the most expensive thing on the menu. I settled for a small fifty dollar steak and thirty dollars’ worth of baked potato and side salad. He was the perfect gentleman. When I told him I didn't drink red wine, he ordered us a bottle of white, even though the waiter informed him it wasn't a good pairing for our dinners. Brett very kindly ignored his suggestions, and finally told him to bring us beers instead. As dinner was nearing an end, he asked the one question I had been expecting since he picked me up.