Blind Date Disasters & Eat Your Heart Out (23 page)

D
IMI LEAPT UP
. She knew what was coming. A man's idea of compromise meant he got to go back to Los Angeles and send for her whenever he needed his itch scratched.

Or maybe he'd show up here every once in awhile, all dark and beautiful and ready to melt her with just one wicked smile.

And she would melt, she had no doubt. All he had to do was crook one little finger and she'd drop to the floor in a boneless puddle of Jell-O.

Pathetic, that was her. Feeling very naked, she searched for her clothes and came up with Mitch's shirt. Good enough.

Mitch stood, too, and reached out to touch her cheek. “It's on inside out.”

So was her heart. Darn it, how had this happened? How had she fallen for a guy who could never take her seriously?

“Dimi…” He took her hands in his and
stilled her movements. “Did I scare you when I said it was time for a compromise?”

“Of course not.” Scoffing, she broke away and went searching for her panties.

“You didn't wear any, remember?” Mitch sighed when she hauled on her jeans. He reached for his pants. “You going to answer me, Dimi?”

“You don't scare me.”

“The word compromise sure did.” He put his hands on her shoulders and made her look at him. “What did you think I meant, I wonder?” He searched her gaze and shook his head. “It was a doozy, whatever you came up with.”

“I need to get going.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded companionably. “I understand. I know the feeling all too well. Things take a wrong turn or something tugs on your heart, just run like hell. It's been my escape choice for two years, as well.”

“I'm not running away.”

“Liar,” he chided softly, holding her still when she would have torn away. “Why don't you just listen then, since you won't talk to me? Can you do that, I wonder?”

No. God, no. “You're the one who's leaving,” she said desperately.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of his
mouth. “Yeah. Which brings me back to the whole compromise thing.” He brought her to his couch and sank down on it, tugging her down, as well, so they faced each other.

Only he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his hair looked as if someone had run their fingers through it—which of course she had—and her poor overwhelmed senses could only imagine how it would be to still be on the floor all tangled up with him.

Bottom line, she wanted him, darn it, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst, and she couldn't believe she'd shown up at his house like this. She should have left it alone after their pizza goodbye, but no, she'd had to see him one more time.

“I don't know what's going on inside that head of yours,” he said, gently tapping her temple. “But you look as if your puppy just got run over by a Mack truck.”

The lump in her throat grew to enormous proportions. How was she supposed to do this, say goodbye and not let him know how much it hurt?

She couldn't, she just couldn't, so she simply sat there, tears welling in her eyes, unable to speak a word without falling apart.

“Oh, Dimi.” He closed his eyes tight and then opened them. They were suspiciously bright. “I'm not good at this serious stuff. But I don't want to leave. Crazy as it sounds, I like this too-damn-small town, and I like the show, and all the people involved in it, but most of all, Dimi, this is about you.”

She blinked in surprise, and a tear fell. Scrubbing at it impatiently, she gaped at him. “Me?”

“Yeah. I was hoping you'd agree to meet me halfway on this thing.”

“Thing?”

“You know, what we have between us. Look, I thought maybe you could teach me how to get a little serious once in awhile. And maybe I could teach you to let your hair down, so to speak, and not just for work. We could meet halfway.”

Her heart leapt straight into her throat, but she was afraid to put seed to the wild hope. “Halfway,” she whispered. “As in once in awhile you come up from southern California, or I come down from northern California?”

“As in I never leave.”

“That's not much of a compromise,” she told him, nearly giddy. Was it possible? Could this work?

“No, I realize that.” He reached for her hand. “But that's me being selfish because I can't see us in Los Angeles. I can't see us anywhere but here.”

Us,
she thought.
My God, he's using the us word.

“The compromise part comes next,” he said, looking directly into her eyes with a touching, endearing uncertainty. “It's where I tell you I am wildly, madly, helplessly in love with you, and you agree to try to feel that way back for me.”

“You mean…”

“I love you, Dimi. I want to be with you forever, through white serviceable underwear and oysters and tampons and everything. I want it all.” He let out a slow, purposeful breath. “Now say something back. Please. You're killing me, just looking at me all wild-eyed and repeating everything I say but saying nothing I want to hear.”

“Well, I have to repeat one more thing.”

He looked destroyed. “Okay.”

“I love you.” She smiled through her tears. “I want to be with you forever, through white serviceable underwear and oysters and tampons and everything.”

The brilliance in his smile dazzled her. So did the bone-crushing hug he gave her.

“And for the record,” she said, still holding him tight, “you've already taught me to loosen up quite a bit, if you'll recall. So that means really it's just teaching you to be a tad more serious. We can start with lovemaking.”

Pulling back, he looked at her in surprise. “There's something wrong with my lovemaking?”

“Only that we haven't made it to a bed yet.”

“Easily remedied,” he said, standing and scooping her into his arms. “In fact, let's work on that immediately.” He gave her a particularly naughty smile. “It might take awhile, though.”

“I hope so.” She loved being against him like this and snuggled closer, her imagination already off and running. “Maybe all night long?” she asked hopefully.

He laughed, then bent and kissed her. “Try for the rest of our lives, Dimi.”

Her heart tipped. “Yes,” she sighed, setting her head on his shoulder. “For the rest of our lives.”