“I hear it’s an excellent vintage,” he grinned. He tipped his glass forward and I clinked mine with his. “You look incredible,” he said, inspecting me head to toe.
“I have you to thank, you and your friends.”
He laughed. “They merely polished what was already there.”
I was startled as he touched the outline of one of my more visible chest tattoos, a jeweled purple heart at the end of an antique silver chain. “That’s lovely,” he commented softly. “Is there a story behind it?”
I shook of how my body quivered under his slight touch. “When I was a little girl, my grandma would always take me to the flea market whenever we went to visit them. I found this garish necklace with this big purple heart. It sparkled so fine,” I grinned. “It was costume jewelry and it couldn’t have cost more than five dollars, but I wanted it more than anything in the world. She got it for me Christmas that year. She died the following February.”
He captured a teardrop on his fingertip as I continued.
“I was only ten years old at the time. I thought she needed the sparkle more than I did, so I put the locket in the casket with her.” I touched my tat with my hand. “It was my first tattoo when I turned eighteen, so that she’d always be with me. Right over my heart, where the people we love belong,” I smiled up at him through tears.
He smiled slow, taking my hand from my chest to hold it in his, caressing it gently with his own, strong fingers as we cradled my sad story in reverent silence. Finally, he brought my hand to his lips for a sweet, lingering kiss.
I cleared my throat as tingles ran throughout my body. “Do you have tattoos?”
He grinned. “Not yet. Old Mother would have a conniption. I thought I’d wait until after she’s no longer queen, that way she can’t have me drawn and quartered.”
I laughed. “I suppose tattoos aren’t exactly regal.”
“Depends on the tattoo,” he shrugged. “And the royal who sports it.” He let that hang in the air for a moment before changing the subject entirely. “Come,” he instructed, leading us to some seating along the deck. “Did you enjoy the concert?”
“I did,” I said honestly. “You have a great show. Dynamic, exciting. It was everything I’d expect from the Duke of Mayhem.”
He laughed heartily as he crossed one leg over the other. He poured himself another glass. “It’s a living,” he winked before he drank. “What did you think of our song?”
“Our… song?” I stammered.
He leaned forward. “The song you helped me write. I’m sure you recognized it.”
His gaze was piercing, even in the low light. I gulped. “It was… it was lovely,” I finally said.
“But?” he prodded.
I scoffed. “It was a little romanticized, don’t you think?”
“How so?” he wanted to know.
“Because we just met,” I trailed off, thinking that would be enough.
“And?” he said.
“I’m… you know…,” I tried again. “And you. You’re… you know. It’s just really…,” I trailed off helplessly. The look in his eyes was melting my insides like butter. I was a near-thirty-year-old woman, who had rubbed elbows with Hollywood’s rich and famous. Yet every time he looked at me, I was reduced to some clueless sixteen-year-old, hoping the football star was going to ask her to the prom.
His eyes traveled shamelessly down my body. He stood up and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
I stammered for a moment, but he didn’t waver. Finally, I put my hand in his. I marveled at his controlled strength as he pulled me into his arms. We swayed to the memory of music. His arm rested around my waist, his fingers at my side, while the other hand trailed down the back of my arm until his fingers tangled with mine. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he murmured.
“Ditto,” I quipped. He responded by pulling me closer. I glanced up into his eyes, which studied every inch of my face. Somehow it made me feel vulnerable and safe all at the same time. “Still trying to see how far you can go?”
His eyes met mine. “Maybe,” he admitted. His head bent towards me. “Stop me when I’ve gone too far,” he said.
I was too frozen to do anything but watch those supple lips come every bit as close as I had secretly hoped they would. When his mouth covered mine, I didn’t even bother to resist. I