Romantic Interludes Part 23

"He called while you were downstairs. He's on duty again tonight."

"That's too bad." I felt bad for my friend. It had to be h.e.l.l being married to a police officer. "You can come over, but it'd have to be later. I . . . umm . . . have early plans."

Annalise scrutinized my face. "You didn't have plans three hours ago."

"I have plans now."

Nervously, I texted him a quick reply before placing my phone back on my desk. When I looked up, my best friend was staring at me, waiting impatiently.

"I'm having coffee with Nathan," I said with a sigh.

Her eyes widened. "You're having coffee?"

"Yes."

"You hate coffee."

"So? I'll have tea."

Annalise squealed so loudly every head in the office turned in our direction.

I miss the dungeon.

I loved the coffee shop across the street. Ms. Lorraine, the owner, baked the best blueberry m.u.f.fins around. As if that wasn't enough, they now had an outdoor patio, complete with Wi-Fi. On sunny days, I'd walk over during my lunch break and sit at one of the tables, letting the sounds of the city surround me as I worked. Those writing sessions had led to our I Love NY series of greeting cards, one of the company's bestsellers from last year. Knowing her store played a small role in the creation of that line, Ms. Lorraine always gave me a free m.u.f.fin whenever I stopped by.

Today, she gave me two.

Nathan and I took our m.u.f.fins and drinks and headed out to the patio.

"Have you always lived in New York?" he asked.

"Born and raised. My parents are professors at NYU," I explained as we sat down at one of the tables. "You're from Oklahoma?"

He nodded. "My mom lives here now, and my brother and his wife recently opened a restaurant in Manhattan. They have a daughter close to Arwen's age. I figured if I ever wanted my art to be taken seriously, I'd have to get out of Oklahoma, so here we are."

"Do you miss it?"

"I miss the quiet, but no, I can't say that I truly miss living there. I can live anywhere. My home is wherever my daughter is safe and happy."

The man was obviously crazy about his daughter, which made him infinitely more attractive in my eyes.

"How old is she?"

"She's seven."

The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I'd just met the man. I couldn't ask about Arwen's mother. Could I?

Nathan was watching me closely and he grinned. "You can ask me anything, Jada."

How did he know?

"Well, I was just wondering about-"

"Arwen's mom?"

"It's none of my business, really."

Nathan shrugged and took a big bite of his m.u.f.fin. He moaned appreciatively, and the sound sent shock waves through me. "I have nothing to hide. It isn't a topic I care to discuss, but I don't mind telling you. Her name was Amy-"

"Was?" I felt foolish for interrupting, but the word slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

"Amy died before our daughter turned one year old. Alcohol poisoning."

"Oh." That wasn't what I expected at all, but it did explain his earlier reaction to my mention of Margarita Mondays. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was inevitable," Nathan whispered sadly. "This is going to sound cold, but I'm glad Arwen can't remember anything about her mother. That's not to say we don't talk about her, but I'd prefer her memories not be tainted, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it."

We spent the next few minutes talking about our mutual hatred for Valentine's Day and everything it represented.

"It's such corporate bulls.h.i.+t," I muttered, "but Heartfelt Designs isn't a bad place to work. It gives me the chance to do what I love and make people smile. Not many jobs can do that."

"I like it, so far," Nathan replied. "Not only does it get my designs out there, but hopefully I'm making the world a more beautiful place. That's every artist's dream come true."

We finished our m.u.f.fins, and Nathan glanced down at his watch.

"I really need to get home," he said softly, "but listen . . . if I can work it out with the sitter, would you let me take you to that Mexican place tomorrow night?"

He could take me to a burger joint for all I cared.

"I'd love that."

Nathan sighed with relief. "Good."

He promised to call later, and I watched as he hailed a cab. Before climbing into the car, he gave me one last smile, and then he was gone.

"What are you wearing?"

Giggling, I cradled my cell closer to my ear and rolled over onto my back. "h.e.l.lo to you, too."

Nathan chuckled softly. "Did I wake you?"

"I'm in bed, but I wasn't sleeping."

"I bet you were writing."

"Yeah, I'm always writing," I replied. "Besides, I'm a night owl."

"Me, too."

I heard movement on the other end, and I imagined him stretching out. Maybe on his bed? Please let his body be stretched across a bed because I could really use that visual.

"I'm sorry to call so late. Arwen was particularly hyper tonight. It took me forever to sing her to sleep."

My heart melted. "You sing?"

"Well, I hum," he said, laughing. "The time is coming when she won't let me sing her to sleep, so I'm trying to enjoy it while I can."

We grew quiet until he finally admitted that tomorrow night's date would have to be put on hold. The sitter had tickets to a play. I could hear the disappointment in his voice, and it made me smile.

"It's okay. Another night."

"I'd really like to see you," Nathan said softly, making my skin tingle. "I was thinking . . . if it isn't too weird, you could come to my place and have dinner with us."

Us.

"Wow, with your daughter? That's-"

"You're right, that's way too weird. I haven't dated in so long, I wouldn't know what was appropriate or . . ."

"No, no. I'm just surprised, that's all. I'd love to have dinner with you and your daughter."

I heard his sharp intake of air. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Is seven o'clock okay?" he asked, a little uncertain. "I know that's early, but I like to have Arwen in bed by eight or so."

"Seven sounds great."

"Good. Now, on to more important matters . . ." I could hear the playfulness in his voice.

"Which are?"

"You never told me what you're wearing."

I laughed. "Good night, Nathan."

"Good night, Jada."

After paying the cab driver, I took a deep breath and walked up the steps leading to Nathan's building. It was impressive, as most buildings in the West Village tend to be, and I wondered how an ill.u.s.trator could afford such an expensive place in the city. I smiled politely at the doorman, and he tipped his hat to me before asking my name.

"Mr. Reynolds is expecting you," he said with a smile, pointing me toward the elevator. I stepped inside and quickly punched the b.u.t.ton, grabbing onto the steel wall while I willed myself to calm down.

It's just dinner. It's not a date. It's just dinner.

This remained my mantra, even as I stood in front of his door, trying to find the courage to knock.

Instead, I smoothed my hair and glanced down at my clothes. I'd decided to dress casually, thinking I should at least be comfortable if I was going to be this nervous. The white silk blouse and jeans were still far dressier than my usual outfits, but was it good enough?

Suddenly, the door swung open, and there he was-smiling at me-wearing nothing but a simple black T-s.h.i.+rt and jeans. The man wasn't even wearing shoes. He smiled brightly at me, and I took a deep breath while his eyes roamed over me.

"You look so pretty," Nathan said softly.

And just like that, all my insecurities were gone.

He invited me inside, and I was stunned by the sheer enormity of the place. Rich mahogany furniture filled the room and the sofa appeared to be made of Italian leather. Despite all that, it had a cozy, homey feel. Decorative artwork was displayed throughout the room-all of which reminded me of his drawings.

"Your designs?"

"Yes."

"They're lovely, Nathan."

"Thank you," he said, smiling. "What's in the bag?"

In my nervousness, I'd completely forgotten about the gift in my hand.

"Oh, it's just something I picked up for Arwen."

"That's very nice of you. Come on into the kitchen so you can meet her."

Nathan led me into the brightly lit kitchen, and I smiled when I saw the little girl sitting at the table, carefully arranging taco sh.e.l.ls onto a platter. Nathan cleared his throat, and she looked up in surprise. Ringlets of blonde hair flowed down to her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled.

"Hi," she whispered softly, but her smile was sunny, making me hopeful that she didn't completely hate me already.

"Hi. I'm Jada. You must be . . . Belle?"

Her smile became even brighter, and she nodded.

Nathan chuckled and offered me a chair at the table while he checked something on the stove.

"We're having chicken tacos," Arwen said excitedly. "Daddy said I could sprinkle the cheese."

"Well, you're doing a great job. I like lots of cheese."

Which was a good thing, because the pan was covered with it. So was the kitchen table, not to mention the floor right beneath her feet. Nathan seemed completely unfazed by the mess she'd made, which I found a little surprising considering how immaculate the living room appeared.

"Is it your birthday?" Arwen asked.

I glanced at Nathan, and he grinned, nodding toward the gift bag.

"Oh! No, this is for you."

"You can open it after dinner," Nathan said.

Any anxiety I felt about this dinner melted away while the three of us enjoyed our tacos. Nathan's daughter talked nonstop, and I wondered if she was just naturally chatty or if she was a little nervous, too. I found out that she was in the second grade and loved to read. Her teacher was Ms. Fox, and she sat next to a boy named Elijah who liked to steal her pencils.