“Here.” Dibs reclined against the couch, patting his thigh. “Put your feet up. I owe you.” He located the remote and aimed it at the television.
Two throw pillows cradling her head, her legs resting in his lap, she let her focus linger along the clean line of his jaw, the soft skin under his earlobe. He’d shown her a level of understanding she didn’t think existed anymore. Even after everything he’d been through, he still offered her acceptance. That he didn’t judge her actions meant more to her than she could ever express, almost as much as their time together.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and she snuggled deeper into the couch, keeping the edge of the blanket near her face so the scent of his cologne would be with her. “Hey, Dibs?”
His misty blue-gray eyes met hers.
“I’m really glad we’re friends.”
He smiled. “Feeling better?”
“Very much better.”
His hand smoothed over her legs, warm and calming, the gentle rhythm lulling her to sleep.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. “Thanks for coming over tonight, Dibs. Being with you was the best part of my day.”
He squeezed her leg. “Me too.”
Chapter Nine
When the doorbell rang, Tessa bit her lip, but the action was a fruitless attempt at curbing her smile. The same floral delivery man from the week before stood in reception, two crystal vases brimming with yellow roses in his arms.
“He’s ba-a-ack.” He rocked forward on his toes.
“I know.” She laughed quietly, dismissing his waggling eyebrows with a wave. “Any card?”
He set the vases on the reception counter and tugged a small envelope from the nearest bouquet. It read:
Did you know you’re my best friend? See you at six
.
She grinned and slipped the card into her pocket, carried one overloaded vase to her desk, and the other she carried into Tiffany’s office and placed on her desk. “Here you go. Compliments of Dibs.” She headed for the door.
“Freeze.”
She stopped mid-stride and swiveled around on the tips of her toes.
Tiffany glanced between her and the flowers. “Two dozen long-stemmed yellow roses?”
Tessa shriveled under her friend’s razor-sharp scrutiny. “Four…dozen…actually.” She pointed toward her office.
Suspicion narrowed Tiffany’s eyes as she skimmed the tip of her tongue along the edge of her teeth. “Any news you would like to share with me at this point?”
Tessa slumped. “Dibs is a nice guy, Tiffany. I don’t know what else you want me to say. He likes to give me flowers, that’s all.”
Her bottom lip jutted forward, head bobbing as if she was mulling over this fascinating piece of information. She arched a brow. “You’ll let me know the moment you have something to report?”
Tessa’s pulse leapt and raced forward. The level of certainty in Tiffany’s words…coupled with the image of her and Dibs foregoing their friendship in lieu of other, more intimate, pursuits…
Sure, they had become close over the past few days, but that didn’t mean she was ready to jump in the sack with him, did it?
Did it?
She settled her arms over her chest to cover her hammering heartbeat. Quite frankly, she had a hard enough time curbing her own thoughts. She didn’t need the added pressure of fighting Tiffany’s, as well. “If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know. But in the meantime, no more of these snide little insinuations, okay?”
Like the unveiling of some picturesque masterpiece, a contented smile spread slow and lazy across Tiffany’s face. “I can live with that.”
With a frustrated huff, Tessa spun and returned to her office, but the minute her eyes landed on the bouquet in her office, her smile returned, and she buried her cheeks in the heady aroma of plump rosebuds, freshly cut stems, and baby’s breath. The man was simply too good to be true. She reached for the phone.
A flush of excitement heated her cheeks and she dropped the receiver into the cradle, darting her eyes around the office. Maybe she shouldn’t call. But, of course she should. This was Dibs, after all. Or maybe she should wait and thank him in person. No, that was a horrible idea. What if she blushed or said the wrong thing?
She pounded her tight fists against the edge of her desk in rapid succession. Tiffany’s meddlesome questions had her all jumbled up inside. Brought to mind things best left unspoken. She picked up the receiver a second time.
“What’s up, Rex?” Dibs answered.
She puffed a breath from her bottom lip and her bangs leapt into the air in response. “I’m calling to thank you for the lovely flowers.”
“Just returning the favor.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you seemed so sad last night. And to be honest, I didn’t like it. So when I remembered how much you appreciated those flowers I brought over, I thought I’d send some to your office. Keep that pretty smile of yours in place all day.”
A giddy, sweet joy swirled in her stomach, chased by a wave of desire so intense heat tingled deep inside her thighs. She placed a hand over her stuttering heart. “I was actually thinking about that first time you sent flowers and how horrible I behaved. I felt bad.”
“Ancient history. Besides, you’ve more than made up for it.”
“How’s that?” As far as she was concerned, she hadn’t done anything for him. In fact,
he
had been the one to do things for
her
.
“Rex,” he said pragmatically. “You’re the only person I know for certain likes me just for me. Not for any other reason. And that’s huge for me, really.”
Anguish, tight and bitter, crowded the base of her throat. She had forgotten. How no matter what, Dibs had to always be on guard, never certain if someone had ulterior motives when they became friends. The frustration over something so far outside his control had to be terrible, only serving to make him even more distant from everyone around him.
A delicate shift occurred in her heart, and she sank to the back of her chair.
His circumstances exactly mirrored her own—never getting too close, never letting anyone in. She had firsthand knowledge how lonely such a life could be, alienated from the world. Before this moment, she had never understood what kindred spirits they were. How they shared a common challenge—Dibs because of those around him, and hers because of herself.
“You’re an incredibly sweet man,” she whispered. “And I’m very lucky to know you.”
At his low chuckle, she closed her eyes. God, how she was beginning to love that sound. “Now see, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
She smiled, though a tear seeped through her lashes.
“How about Italian tonight?”
She cringed, one eye popping open, the other scrunched tight. “You trust me after my performance on Monday?”
“Absolutely. We’ll make it a do-over.”
Her quiet laugh seemed breathless even to her ears.
“Pick you up at six?”
“Make it five thirty.” She slowly lowered the receiver to the cradle. Just a few more hours and he would be walking into her office. They could spend the evening together.
Tiffany cleared her throat and Tessa jumped in her chair. She quickly patted her open palms over her desk until she located a pen. “What?”
“Not a thing.” Tiffany raised her brows. “Ready to go over the schedule for next week?”
“Give me a few minutes.” Tessa faced her computer. “I got distracted there for a second.”
“I bet you did.”
****
Dibs fidgeted for what she counted as the third time, shifting around and rearranging the food on his plate. He filled his lungs as if to speak, and then silently exhaled.
Tessa finally set down her fork and dabbed her napkin against her mouth. For crying out loud, the guy might as well have been wearing an orange reflector vest and holding a large neon sign—Caution! Steep Incline Ahead! “Are you planning to tell me what’s on your mind or would you prefer to just sit there and squirm?”
A small smile formed on his lips, but uncertainty clouded his gaze. He cleared his throat and planted his elbows on the table. “I wanted to ask you something.”
And he was nervous? Well, that didn’t seem like Dibs at all. She squeezed his arm, patting her reassurance. “Hey, it’s okay. What did you need?”
He winced, those delectable crinkles gathering near the corners of his eyes. “Actually…I need a date.”
She clenched her jaw tight against the impulse to laugh. He needed a date. Yeah, right. As if a bevy of eager ladies weren’t pining for this very invitation. And though a secret thrill quivered low in her belly over how he had chosen to ask her, she couldn’t help having a little fun with him in the process.
She inclined her head. “For?”
“An art benefit tomorrow evening. The invitation is plus one, and I since I’m the lead benefactor, I should really bring a date. Besides, I thought it might be a great opportunity for you to make some business contacts.”
“Really?” She pursed her lips, nodding. “How dressy?”
“Semi-formal.”
She sighed and shook her head, twirling a gob of spaghetti around her fork. “Way to ask me at the last minute, Dibs. Now I’ll have to scramble for an outfit.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. You look beautiful no matter what you wear.”
She lowered her chin to hide a smile. “What time did you say?”
“I think the invitation said seven.”
“You think?” She frowned, her spine connecting with the chair as she spoke to the restaurant as a whole. “Can someone please tell me why men never get the details?
Life
is about the details. This is exactly why men can’t plan their way out of a paper bag.”
The woman at the next table widened her eyes. “I know,” she mouthed.
Dibs cocked an eyebrow, glancing between them. “My details are just fine, thank you.”
“Oh, really.” Tessa crossed her arms. “Do you know where the benefit is being held?”
“A gallery on the east side. The address is on the invitation.”
She fluttered her lashes, sweetening her voice. “Are you even sure the event is for tomorrow night?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Let me guess. The date is on the invitation.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
Tessa and the woman shared a blank stare before they burst out laughing.
****
The anticipation flitting through her stomach was silly, really. So silly, in fact, Tessa kept her plans to attend the benefit with Dibs to herself. The last thing she needed was Tiffany butting in with her two cents. Especially since their evening didn’t really constitute a
date
. Dibs was obliged to bring someone…and she just happened to fit the bill.
Still, her excitement mounted throughout the day. She grew increasingly distracted. Worried she might miss a major detail, she set aside the BFG event and began the mind-numbing task of wrapping box after box of truffles for the Sandberg wedding. The mundane chore kept her hands occupied, and she didn’t have to think about anything other than which item from her wardrobe would be most appropriate.
When an amber glow saturated the sky outside her window, she finally glanced at her desk clock. After six.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered. She collected her coat and purse from the back of the door, waved a quick goodnight to Tiffany, and sprinted for the elevator.
By the time she entered her condo, the time had crept to six-twenty. “Double shit.”
She flung her coat and purse to the couch and kicked off her shoes in the hallway. A quick refresher of her makeup, and she hop-stepped into her pantyhose.
The digits on the clock winked to six forty-five, and as if on cue the doorbell chimed. She tossed on her silk bathrobe and flew down the hall. Swinging the door wide, she instinctively held a breath.
Dibs stood in the threshold, devastating in a crisp, black suit, one shoulder braced against the door jam, a bouquet of pink roses in his hand. He scanned the length of her from under his brows and grinned. His silver tie shimmered in the recessed light of the corridor, a perfect complement to the delight in his eyes.
Holy…wow.
A dizzying jolt of exhilaration knocked her back a step and she fisted the edges of the robe over her chest. “You look very dashing this evening.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry.” She spun and retreated to her bedroom. “I lost track of time. I’m almost there.”
“That’s okay,” he called.
The door slammed. His footsteps tapped across the kitchen tile and water showered into the sink—Dibs presumably filling a vase for the flowers. A moment later, ice chinked into a glass, and she smiled. He was fixing a glass of scotch.
“Hey!” His voice traveled the length of the hall.
“What?” She discarded her bra, unzipped her floor-length black dress, and stepped inside. The inner layer gloved her body in a column of silk no longer than a bath towel, the straight line across the tops of her breasts matched by the diminutive hem. A sheer black sheath comprised the outer layer, heavy with embroidered sequins and crystals, the long sleeves snug down the length of her arms and the collar a perfect silk band around the base of her throat.
In the mirror above the dresser, the see-through fabric glittered and sparkled, her black stiletto pumps showcasing her long legs through the deep slit traveling to mid-thigh.
“Remember how you said men couldn’t plan their way out of a paper bag?” he called.
“Yeah?” She plucked her black chandelier earrings from her jewelry box.
“I heard the people hosting tonight’s exhibit hired this guy from Special Occasions.”
“Oh, really?” She ran a brush through her hair and secured the sides at the nape of her neck with several rhinestone-tipped pins. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never been to any of their events.”
“So I guess we’ll be able to test your theory,” he called.
“I’m buying the next three dinners if tonight goes off without a hitch.” She slicked a layer of sparkling lip gloss over her red lipstick, dabbed her favorite cologne at her wrists and neck.
“Is that right?”