and a cotton shirt. He hadn’t told her where they were going on the Hill, St. Louis’s well-known Italian neighborhood, and the restaurants ranged from corner pizza parlors to elegant gourmet eateries. If they ended up at the pizza end of the spectrum, her beaded white angora sweater and slim wool burgundy skirt were definitely going to be out of place. But worrying wasn’t going to solve the dilemma, she thought with a sigh as she reached up to tuck a couple of stray strands of hair into her French twist. If she was dressed inappropriately, she’d find out soon enough.
The more important question was why she’d even agreed to this date in the first place. Logically, it was the wrong thing to do. She knew that. But somehow, in her heart, it seemed right. And her heart, rather than her mind, had guided her decision, she admitted. Even now, as she recalled the tender feel of Zach’s lips on hers, his hand cradling her neck as he kissed her, a surprisingly intense surge of longing swept over her. She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled a shaky breath. Yes, accepting the date felt right. Because for some reason his touch hadn’t frightened her. It was almost like a sign, she thought, an indication that she should give this relationship a chance. Maybe the Lord was trying to nudge her forward. She had asked for His help, after all. Perhaps Zach was—
The sudden ringing of the doorbell made her eyes fly open, and she turned with a start toward the sound, her pulse accelerating as she reached up with trembling fingers to nervously smooth her hair one final time. With a silent plea for courage, she drew a long, steadying breath and moved toward the door, turning the dead bolt and unhooking the security guards at the top and bottom with trembling hands.
As she swung the door open, she realized instantly that she was not overdressed. Zach wore a charcoal gray suit, which sat well on his broad shoulders and emphasized his muscular physique, and a burgundy-and-silver-striped tie rested against the crisply starched white shirt that hugged his broad chest. He looked impressive, distinguished, suave, incredibly handsome—in other words, absolutely fantastic, she thought appreciatively, her heart banging against her rib cage as she gripped the edge of the door.
While Rebecca completed her perusal, Zach did his own in one swift, comprehensive glance that missed nothing—the glitter of beads on her sweater; the pulse beating in the delicate hollow at the base of her throat; her beautiful eyes, wider than usual tonight as they gazed up at him with a touch of trepidation; and the classic bone structure of her face, highlighted by her sophisticated French twist.
His gaze lingered for a moment on her hair. The style suited her, but he’d love to see what her hair looked like loose and free, the russet highlights glinting as the waves tumbled around her shoulders. He imagined what it would be like to run his hands through those burnished tresses, feel their softness against his fingertips…
“Hi,” Rebecca said timidly, abruptly interrupting his fantasy.
“Hi,” he returned huskily, firmly reining in his wayward thoughts. He let his gaze travel over her once more, not even attempting to hide the appreciation in his eyes. “Has anyone told you lately that you look lovely?”
She flushed and turned away on the pretext of retrieving her purse. “Not that I recall,” she replied, striving for a light tone yet secretly pleased by his compliment. “You look very nice tonight, too.”
“I don’t wear suits often,” he admitted as he strolled into the tiny foyer behind her. “Only on special occasions.”
So he considered tonight a special occasion, she thought, a delicious tingle running down her spine. But it could be just a line, she reminded herself. Don’t get carried away. She knew he was smooth, practiced, probably very accomplished in the art of seduction. He was the type of man who would know exactly what to say
The more important question was why she’d even agreed to this date in the first place. Logically, it was the wrong thing to do. She knew that. But somehow, in her heart, it seemed right. And her heart, rather than her mind, had guided her decision, she admitted. Even now, as she recalled the tender feel of Zach’s lips on hers, his hand cradling her neck as he kissed her, a surprisingly intense surge of longing swept over her. She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled a shaky breath. Yes, accepting the date felt right. Because for some reason his touch hadn’t frightened her. It was almost like a sign, she thought, an indication that she should give this relationship a chance. Maybe the Lord was trying to nudge her forward. She had asked for His help, after all. Perhaps Zach was—
The sudden ringing of the doorbell made her eyes fly open, and she turned with a start toward the sound, her pulse accelerating as she reached up with trembling fingers to nervously smooth her hair one final time. With a silent plea for courage, she drew a long, steadying breath and moved toward the door, turning the dead bolt and unhooking the security guards at the top and bottom with trembling hands.
As she swung the door open, she realized instantly that she was not overdressed. Zach wore a charcoal gray suit, which sat well on his broad shoulders and emphasized his muscular physique, and a burgundy-and-silver-striped tie rested against the crisply starched white shirt that hugged his broad chest. He looked impressive, distinguished, suave, incredibly handsome—in other words, absolutely fantastic, she thought appreciatively, her heart banging against her rib cage as she gripped the edge of the door.
While Rebecca completed her perusal, Zach did his own in one swift, comprehensive glance that missed nothing—the glitter of beads on her sweater; the pulse beating in the delicate hollow at the base of her throat; her beautiful eyes, wider than usual tonight as they gazed up at him with a touch of trepidation; and the classic bone structure of her face, highlighted by her sophisticated French twist.
His gaze lingered for a moment on her hair. The style suited her, but he’d love to see what her hair looked like loose and free, the russet highlights glinting as the waves tumbled around her shoulders. He imagined what it would be like to run his hands through those burnished tresses, feel their softness against his fingertips…
“Hi,” Rebecca said timidly, abruptly interrupting his fantasy.
“Hi,” he returned huskily, firmly reining in his wayward thoughts. He let his gaze travel over her once more, not even attempting to hide the appreciation in his eyes. “Has anyone told you lately that you look lovely?”
She flushed and turned away on the pretext of retrieving her purse. “Not that I recall,” she replied, striving for a light tone yet secretly pleased by his compliment. “You look very nice tonight, too.”
“I don’t wear suits often,” he admitted as he strolled into the tiny foyer behind her. “Only on special occasions.”
So he considered tonight a special occasion, she thought, a delicious tingle running down her spine. But it could be just a line, she reminded herself. Don’t get carried away. She knew he was smooth, practiced, probably very accomplished in the art of seduction. He was the type of man who would know exactly what to say
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