If Only You Knew. Gwyneth Bolton
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Her hand shook as she sipped the wine.
Her jittery nervousness sparked a deep desire in him to ease some of her discomfort. Sliding closer to her in the seat, he placed his arm around her. She jumped and spilled the glass of wine.
“Why are you so jumpy? Relax,” he whispered softly, picking up the glass and placing it in a holder.
He bent his head to kiss her. Her lips were soft and inviting. She tasted like the sweet wine and a hint of peppermint. Once he worked his tongue into her mouth, he felt any thirst he had ever had being quenched. She sighed just before she relaxed into his embrace and a sharp jolt raced through him at the sound. Suddenly he was struck with so much need he almost couldn’t concentrate.
She was intoxicating and addictive, and he couldn’t pull away from her if he wanted to. He allowed his hands to explore her luscious body. He pulled her closer until he almost had her on his lap. Still it didn’t seem close enough. If he could have inhaled her, injected her into his veins somehow, he would have done it.
He pulled away and took a ragged breath. If he didn’t stop kissing her, he would wind up quickly taking her in the back of the limo, and he didn’t want that to happen. He wanted to savor every moment. The woman had wreaked havoc with his libido and his emotions and he fully intended to take his time to see if she offered all he’d imagined.
“We should probably stop,” he managed to mutter as he tried without success to catch his breath and calm himself down.
A red stain flushed her toffee cheeks and her eyes fluttered. Her face became the picture of embarrassment as she put some distance between them. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath.
“Mr. Harrington, I really would like you to reconsider this…dinner. I’m really not comfortable with it. I realize that there is some attraction. But this is not the best way to deal with it.” She cleared her throat again as she ran her hand across her navy slacks, picking off nonexistent lint. “I think it would be best if you just have your driver take me home.”
“Do you really? Because now that I’ve kissed you, Latonya, I can honestly say that wouldn’t work for me at all.”
She sighed and looked away, seeming emotionally torn.
He ran his fingers over her long auburn tresses. “Tell me that you’re not attracted to me. Tell me that you don’t want this as much as I do.”
With a face full of anger and passion, fueled no doubt by stilted desire, she turned to face him again. Instead of responding in words, she simply pursed her lips.
The sight of her luscious lips closed so defiantly made him want to kiss her again. At least she didn’t deny she wanted him. He took a small relief in that as he continued to toy with her hair. Pulling her closer, Carlton whispered, “I’ll tell you what, you let me treat you to dinner since you worked so hard today. And we’ll just see how the night goes. Who knows, you might even have fun.”
Her lips formed a smirk and Carlton couldn’t resist. He had to touch them. Letting his hand trail down her cheek, he traced her lips with his thumb. He could feel the steady beat of her heart as she took a deep breath.
Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he moved his hand. “So, do we have a deal?”
“Fine, I’ll let you buy me dinner.”
Latonya smiled and Carlton could have sworn her eyes danced just for him. He had no idea the woman’s smile could make his heartbeat skip. Not wanting to lose the closeness he was starting to feel, he let his hand rest on her shoulder and held her close.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Carlton enjoyed the drive from downtown Miami to the restaurant near his home in Coconut Grove. The lush green foliage and the blue waters calmed him as he looked out of the window. Once they were in view of Biscayne Bay he could almost feel himself relaxing a bit. Gazing at the blue water that surrounded the freeway offered a cathartic release of tension.
Although not as beautiful as his island home in the Bahamas, Miami held a beauty special to him as well. Ever since he was a child he’d split his time between the Bahamas and the almost tropical Florida city. A Bahamian native by birth, he considered Miami home while in the States.
Coconut Grove, the place of Miami’s earliest black settlers, was also the spot his Bahamian-born great-great-grandfather decided to make his home. In the years since the first Harrington resided in Coconut Grove, the Harringtons maintained their Bahamian citizenship and heritage, keeping homes in both places. Carlton’s home on Millionaire’s Row had been in the family for several generations and he lived there by himself part of the year with a small number of servants.
When the limo pulled up in front of the small restaurant, he almost let out a sigh of relief. Out of the close confines of the limo, at least he didn’t have to worry about trying to maul the poor woman anymore. He did have some sense of decorum about public behavior. Yet one look at her sweetly rounded bottom and long legs as she stepped out of the vehicle before him made Carlton realize that he’d better request the corner table in the back just in case he forgot all his home training.
Latonya looked around the small and sophisticated restaurant and tried to catch her breath. The white linen tablecloths gave the place a Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous aura, and one look at the menu prices confirmed her observation.
She tried to wrap her mind around all that had happened between herself and Carlton. She’d felt an attraction to him from the first moment she’d seen him and that scared her. She’d never experienced such overwhelming desire before. Her grandmother, a strict, church-going woman, had a mantra that she preached to her granddaughters daily: books before boys. For the most part, Latonya had listened. She’d never wanted to disappoint her grandmother so she’d stayed clear of boys in high school and college. She often thought about what it would be like to have sex. She found herself thinking about it a whole lot more whenever Carlton was around. Those thoughts were not safe or good.
She looked up from the menu to find him gazing at her, and the heat traveled from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her toes.
Latonya was so caught up in Carlton’s gaze that she barely heard the waiter as he spouted off the list of specials in a sultry Spanish accent.
“Do you like mojitos, Tonya? I think a cocktail is in order after all our hard work today.” Carlton smiled and then ordered a pitcher full of the wonderful Cuban drink.
She took a deep breath. If a little rum, mint, sugar and lime didn’t help her get over her nervousness, nothing would. She gladly took the glass the waiter poured for her when he returned with the pitcher.
Carlton proceeded to order their meal in flawless Spanish and she bit back the urge to tell him that she had been deciding her own meals since she was twelve years old. Before her mother died she took care of preparing meals for her younger sister and herself, and after that, because of the long hours her grandmother put in cleaning the homes of others, she had to prepare meals for the entire family. The last thing she needed was some guy thinking he could just decide what she wanted or needed.
He turned to her and smiled in spite of the daggers she was shooting at him with her eyes. “I know you can order your own food. But I come here a lot and I know what’s good and what’s truly superb.”
Carlton proceeded to tell her what he’d ordered. Everything from the croquetas as an appetizer to the flan for dessert.
“The meal you’ve picked out sounds scrumptious. I can’t wait. I’m famished.” She smiled in spite of herself. It became increasingly harder to maintain an attitude with Carlton when he looked at her with that sexy glint in his eyes. She cleared her throat instead of reprimanding him and finished off her mojito.
He reached for the pitcher and refilled her glass as soon as she put it down.
“So, tell me about yourself.”
Carlton appeared sincere, but she didn’t know how much of her life she wanted to share with him. She squinted her eyes as she tried to decide. “What do you