Ivy may have had a point about the age difference, but if for no other reason than to catch up, find out how she was doing, I needed to see Katherine again. Rationalizing poor behavior wasn’t typically my thing; I’d just own the responsibility normally. But I didn’t feel there was anything wrong with what I was doing, and frankly I didn’t give a single fuck who said what about me.
With my mind made up, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number, switching to speaker phone. The number rang through, but Katherine did not pick up, and there was only a generic voicemail message. I hadn’t planned to leave a message, so I was a little frustrated, but I managed to get my point across.
“Katherine, it’s Victor. I want to meet tonight, at Salar…” Choosing the same restaurant where we’d bumped into each other would definitely give her the home court advantage. She seemed comfortable there, as if she knew the neighborhood well. I had only selected that location based on the client’s request. “Eight p.m. I ‘ll wait for you.”
I could have asked her to come instead of telling her what I wanted, told her that I wanted to catch up. But I knew what I wanted, or at least I thought I knew. We’d have dinner and catch up. She’d tell me about her mom, and I would remember how awful Jillian had treated me and be able to let this crazy fantasy of Katherine Scott go. That would make Ivy happy, and I could focus on work again instead of being so goddamn distracted by the thought of seeing her curves naked in a dark room.
6
KAT
The way he’d phrased the invitation was more like a command, but I didn’t care. The minute I heard his buttery voice I melted. Thoughts warred within me all afternoon as I sat through rehearsals and meetings about London later this fall. I’d found it hard to concentrate on the song selections I would need to rehearse. In fact, it was worse than the week of finals sophomore year, when I’d met Javier and he’d asked me out to dinner.
Hovering by the host as he scrolled the seating arrangements on his computer, I stood on tiptoes, hoping to get a glimpse of Victor. My sequined, red minidress revealed the most skin while remaining highly secretive at the same time, a large cutout on the back that dipped past my waist. But the neck was high, framing in my neck like a choker.
The stilettos I’d chosen would offset any height discrepancy. As a petite woman, I was painfully aware of my short stature every time I met someone taller than me, but when it was a man, I adored as much as I did Victor, it was mortifying. Heels were the only way to shore up my confidence.
“Right this way, ma’am,” the host grunted, gesturing with his hand to follow him. He took off like a bolt of lightning and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to scope out the scene. For all I knew I was overdressed, and Victor could be wearing dockers.
I scurried behind him, clutching my wallet tightly in my hand. My body jittered with nerves; I was tense. The moment I had been waiting for since I was just a kid was finally here. I would be alone with Victor with a chance to tell him how I felt about him, how I’d felt for so long. As a kid it seemed stupid that I’d fallen in love with my “mommy’s boyfriend” as Bethany would tell me, but I wasn’t a child anymore. I didn’t have the emotions of a child, or the same silly crush.
And I didn’t have the body of a child either. The men I passed proved that their eyes lingering on my backside as I sashayed by. Each smirk, wink, or smile boosted my confidence that Victor, too, would have his eyes turned by my curves. I was banking on it.
The host led me to a table near the windows, the same table Victor had been sitting at when we’d bumped into each other. Only this time the table was empty. Two place settings occupied the table, and two glasses of wine, a cask with the bottle taking up reality on the side closest to the window. The host helped me sit and gestured at the menu laid across the plate.
“Have a look. Mr. Beringher will be here momentarily.”
I nodded and smiled, and he walked away, leaving me with my nerves. I didn’t even bother to look at the menu; I knew it would be pointless until my brain finally calmed down. Instead, I pulled out my compact mirror and tube of lipstick. My bad habit of chewing on my lower lip always ruined my makeup.
Checking the damage, I held the mirror up and took the cap off my lipstick. My hand jittered a little, making it difficult to apply the fresh coat of color, and as soon as I had capped the tube, I saw movement in the mirror behind me. Victor walked up, wearing a black suit, baby blue shirt beneath it. His five o’clock shadow made my body shudder, desire building inside of me battling the nerves.
In my frazzled state, I dropped the tube of lipstick and for a split second I froze. Did I pick it up? Leave it lay? If I was bent over when he walked up that wasn’t a very good impression, but if I just waited until he sat down, I’d likely look like a fool trying to reach for the tube in the middle of our dinner. I panicked, and leaned out of my seat, craning to reach the tube that had rolled beneath Victor’s seat when his feet stopped right next to my hand.
I couldn’t reach it before he did. Our fingers brushed in a jolt of energy, sending waves of lust-inducing adrenaline through my body. I didn’t even look up at him. I just waited for him to pick up the tube of lipstick as I slowly straightened in my seat. My eyes followed the crisp crease on his trousers up to his waist where they migrated across his body to land on his smiling face. One dimple peeked out, though I’d seen his radiant grin enough to have it memorized; I knew there was another beneath the stubble.
“Katherine…” He handed me the lipstick, and it felt like he purposely held it in a way that I’d have to touch him again.
“Victor…” My voice trembled a little and I forced a smile as I put the compact mirror and lipstick away.
Victor sat across from me, waving the waiter away before he’d even said anything. The atmosphere was taught with unspoken words. I waited for him to lead off in conversation, but he said nothing. And when I thought I’d have something to say, all that came out was a squeak. Thankfully it came at the precise moment he spoke too, so we both smiled and looked away.
It had been so long, but my fascination and attraction to him hadn’t changed a bit. What was once a girlish fantasy was now a puddle in my panties which I tried to ignore. He leaned back casually, resting his ankle on his other knee, one hand strewn across his lap, the other arm draped across the table. God, I wanted to blurt out how much I wanted him and how hypnotic his mere presence was, but like my dream, no words would come out.
And then he spoke.
“I hardly recognized you.” He tapped a finger on the table. His eyes narrowed as he leaned his head sideways. Something in my periphery moved, and Victor held up two fingers then a thumbs up and nodded. I didn’t know who he was gesturing to, but I didn’t care. My eyes were fixed on only him.
“Things change when you don’t see someone for 10 years.” I bobbed one shoulder and laid my wallet down on the table, turning back to him. “You haven’t changed a bit though. Still as debonair as ever.”
Victor’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly. I watched every single muscle in his face as he listened to me speak. I could read parts of him, but not all of him, and all I wanted to know was whether he was here to speak about my mother, my past, me being a child—or if he might be as interested as he seemed the other night.
“Things must be going as well for you as they are for me.” I picked up the stemware and sipped at the wine, a Moscato—perfect. The sweet and potent drink would take the edge off and fuck if I didn’t need that.
The waiter approached with a tray of food, and our conversation was interrupted by the service. He placed a dish of ceviche in front of each of us and nodded before excusing himself. With the waiter—and my buffer—gone, I focused on unrolling my flatware and draping the napkin across my lap. I wouldn’t have ordered this particular dish, but I did not want to offend Victor. So, I would try it out at least.
“I see you’re doing very well. Julliard? Really? Full ride? You have an impressive resume. You’ve done a lot of growing up.” He unrolled his flatware and picked up his fork, plunging it into his dish to pick up a bite of food which he nonchalantly pushed into his mouth.
My chest tightened as I realized what he was doing. This wasn’t at all about him being interested in me. He was bringing up my growth as a means to remind me I was the child, and he the grown man. I didn’t have a fucking shot in hell with him. I needed to focus the conversation on the present, not the past, but I was discouraged already. So, I distracted myself with a bite of the cold soup. The tartness of the lemon puckered my lips and I shuddered unconsciously.