“No. About a man named James whom Daphne went on a blind date with ten months ago.”
CHAPTER TEN
DAPHNE
Ten months ago
DAPHNE STOOD IN THE FOYER of the small Italian restaurant, adjusting the vintage scarf around her neck. No matter how many first dates she went on, her stomach always fluttered at this moment.
She’d pulled a winter white wool dress and high-heeled boots from the showroom of her SoHo boutique and had gotten a blowout at lunchtime. I think you two will hit it off, Kit, the customer who’d set them up on a blind date, had said. James was in the same fraternity as my husband in college, and they recently reconnected. He’s a really fun guy.
The door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked in. “You must be Daphne.” He broke into a wide smile and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’m James.”
He was as attractive as Kit had indicated. Plus James had been so complimentary and warm in the texts they’d exchanged that she felt the night held promise. He’d told her he liked her name and suggested they eat at a restaurant that would be convenient for her.
“The gnocchi here is insane,” James said as the hostess led them to an intimate table by the fireplace.
Another point in his favor: A lot of guys would have suggested meeting for a drink. James seemed to want to get to know her.
“Should we get a bottle of wine?” he asked, and when she agreed, he ordered Pinot Grigio.
She preferred red wine, but she let it go.
As a busboy filled their water glasses, James launched into a funny story about his buddy’s wedding to Kit, recounting how the band’s lead singer didn’t show up. “So we all took turns grabbing the mic and performing.”
“What did you sing?”
He started laughing so hard it was contagious. His laugh was wonderful—warm and inviting.
“Tell me!”
“‘My Heart Will Go On.’” He could barely choke out the words.
“By Celine Dion? You did not!”
“‘Near, far, wherever you are…,’” he sang in a falsetto.
“Please tell me there’s video!” She finally composed herself, taking a sip of the wine, which tasted good, after all. James was solicitous, offering her a bite of his gnocchi, and coaxing her to tell stories about her customers.
It was, she thought, the best first date she’d been on in a long time.
As he lifted the wine bottle to refill her glass, she said, “Oh, just a splash for me.” She had an early morning tomorrow; she was opening the boutique.
“C’mon.” He filled it up. “It’s the weekend.” As he put down the bottle, she noticed his fingers were thick and strong looking.
Nothing set off alarm bells for Daphne during dinner. That was one of the worst parts; later, she would go over the night obsessively in her head, asking herself if she’d missed a clue. A whiff of danger that had swept past her.
When the bill came, James reached for it so quickly she didn’t have a chance to offer to split it, which seemed chivalrous.
As they stepped outside, James said, “Can I walk you home?”
For a brief moment, she wondered how he knew she lived nearby. Then she remembered he’d chosen a restaurant in a location she’d said would be convenient. Naturally, he’d deduced it was near her apartment.
He talked easily as they walked, stopping to pet a Standard Poodle as the smiling owner looked on. Then he slipped Daphne’s hand into his. His grip felt firm and welcome.
By the time they reached her apartment building, Daphne was hoping he’d kiss her good-night.
“This was really nice,” she said as they reached the entrance of her apartment. She looked up at him, feeling a little shy. She was picky; she hadn’t kissed a man in months. “Thank you for dinner.”
He leaned in and kissed her, slowly and softly. She brought her hands to his shoulders. He pulled her in more closely. The kiss lingered, his tongue teasing apart her lips.
It felt so good to be touched. To be wanted.
When they broke apart, she smiled. “Thanks again,” she said, and turned to walk into her lobby.
“Hey,” James said, and she turned back around. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick?”
She blinked. It felt like a strange request.
“Sorry, it was that last glass of wine.” He laughed.
How could she say no to this nice man who’d just taken her out to dinner; this guy who liked dogs and held open doors for her? “Sure.”
She felt a moment of awkwardness when they passed the doorman, Raymond, who greeted her with no indication that he was surprised to see her bring home an unfamiliar man even though he’d never before seen her return at night with one.
Raymond had probably been watching as she and James kissed; they were clearly visible through the glass-walled lobby entrance.
“Good night,” she said to Raymond as they passed.
“Night,” James added, which had seemed odd to Daphne—after all, he’d be leaving in a minute—but maybe he’d just spoken the word automatically.
James put his palm on the small of her back as they walked to the elevator. So low it grazed her butt.
Daphne flushed, wondering if Raymond was watching this, too. She reached back and removed his hand.
They stood side by side as they rode the elevator to the tenth floor. The easy conversation between them stuttered. James was staring straight ahead, no longer smiling.
Had he been expecting more?
They’d flirted all night, but that didn’t mean she wanted to sleep with him so soon.
She decided to leave the door to her apartment open and stand by it. She could gesture to show James the way to the bathroom; there was one in her hallway. Then she would motion him out; he’d get the message clearly.
That’s exactly what Daphne started to do. She heard the toilet flush, then the sink faucet running—she flashed back to his strong-looking hands—then James reappeared.
She was halfway out the door. There was no way he could misread her signals.
James approached. She shuffled a bit to let him pass. Still with one foot in her apartment, and one in the hallway. But he paused right in front of her.
Now he was straddling the threshold, too.
James leaned down to kiss her again. She made the split-second decision to allow this; it seemed like the easiest way to get rid of him.
It felt almost as if she were kissing a different man; his lips were no longer tender, and he pressed his body against hers. She could smell the garlic from his gnocchi on his breath.
Her customer Kit had mentioned her husband recently reconnected with James. How well did they know him?
Daphne didn’t even know Kit all that well, she realized.
Daphne pulled away. “Thanks again.”
But he didn’t move.
The hallway was well lit, but her apartment was not. James’s face was half in the shadows, half in the light.
“Does it have to be over?”
Her heart began to pound, but she forced herself to smile. “I’ve got an early morning.”
Daphne saw something enter his eyes that made her instincts finally scream the warning they’d been whispering ever since James had asked to come upstairs.
“I’m just really tired.” Anxiety filled her voice. “But I’ll call you.”