another reason as well - the Caruso connection. Fine, there was that too. Shit, maybe he was unfeeling and uncaring, because he wasn't, wasn't going to feel guilty about wanting her and wanting her connection to Cosimo as well.
But he also wasn't going to be stupid. Aware that she was still looking over her shoulder despite the dark and the unidentifiable headlights all around them, he didn't head straight for his house.
She needed time to loosen up.
So he took her out to dinner. They landed on Palm Canyon Drive, in the heart of the downtown district, at the Coyote Cafe". He opted for the patio because he wanted to see her in the starshine of the fairy lights strung around the trunks of the palm trees.
He hadn't considered how slow the service might be on a weeknight. But it was high tourist season after all, and he counted them lucky they'd snagged a free table close to the wrought-iron fence separating the outdoor seating area from the public sidewalk. Though the desert night was cool, the day's heat still radiated from the asphalt and the walls. Patio heaters stood ready, but unnecessary. The scent of tortilla chips in hot oil made his mouth water.
The waitress brought their drinks quickly. That's when he learned not to order "large" when it came to margaritas at the Coyote in Palm Springs. His whiskey arrived in the requisite rocks glass. Tea's tequila and lime concoction came in something sized like a fruit bowl.
She blinked at the drink when it was first set before her, but it was testament to her ongoing case of nerves that she lifted the salt-encrusted glass with almost eagerness.
It was testament to his horniness that watching her lick the rim with her pink tongue brought his cock to full alert.
He wasn't going to feel guilty about that either.
But as he watched her frequent sips of her drink, he wondered if he shouldn't. She hadn't eaten a kernel of the popcorn he'd bought at the swap meet, or the hot dog she'd shuddered over later. Her stomach had to be empty, and so far she was filling it with a potent brew that, by the glazed look in her eye, was mostly alcohol.
Getting her drunk to get her into his bed didn't lead to blame-free mornings.
And the way she was looking at him from those smoldering sloe eyes told him the margarita was loosening her inhibitions. She'd let her blouse stay two-button open. She was showing honest-to-God cleavage and it was such plump, centerfold-quality cleavage that he felt his cock twitch in its direction.
Wearing a small smile, she continued to play with the necklace he'd bought her on a whim. The way her fingers worked over the beads made him think of her fingers working on him, and looking at her flushed face and lips reddened by the icy glass, he had the sudden urge to see how far he could push her. Would she take off her panties if he asked? He drop-kicked his conscience off the playing field and leaned across the table.
"Tea," he said, needing to touch her. Needing to feel her vibrancy beneath his hand.
As his fingers found the back of hers, her chin jerked up. "There's my mother," she told Johnny, looking over his shoulder. She waved a wild hand toward the sidewalk that was crowded with tourists gathered in knots around the celebrity plaques that studded the Palm Springs Walk of Stars. "Mom! Over here!"
Johnny snatched back his hand as Bianca skirted a bronze star on her way to greet her daughter. Her eyes widened as she took in Tea's relative state of dishevelment and her neon-beaded necklace and then her gaze dropped to the half-full, bucket-sized margarita on the table.
"You look like you're having fun," she said to Tea.
Tea beamed a smile that was a little sloppy around the edges. "Oh, I'm planning to."
Damn. She might as well be wearing a flashing sign de-daring "I'm going to be fucked later." Her mother's gaze flicked to Johnny's face and he leaned against the back of his chair, trying to look suave and sinless at the same time. Surely she couldn't read on his face the sexual dare she'd interrupted. But damn, she was giving him the uncomfortable and indisputable mother-eye.
"We've ordered dinner," he offered, to prove he wasn't just trying to get her darling daughter drunk. Then he cleared his throat and poured on the charm, because no badass Vegas gambler was going to let