Facade (3 page)

“Yeah, sorry.  I was caught up in something and didn’t hear my phone until the sixth call.  What’s up?”

“I’m going to pick you up in an hour for our date.”

I glance at the clock and then at my appearance in the mirror.  The life of an author really takes a toll on you.  I don’t think I’ve even brushed my teeth yet.  “Yeah, I’ll make it work.  See you soon.”

I throw my phone on the bed and head to my closet to find something to wear that says “thank you for this date and I want to fuck you stupid” and avoid the clothes that say “I understand why you want more, an
d by the way, so do I.”

Plucking my attire off the hangers, I grab a towel from the linen closet and take the quickest shower known to man while still finding the time to shave all the important zones; arm pits, legs
and my cookie.  Once I’m dry, I apply lotion and put on a matching bra and panty set that I purchased a Christmas gift to myself.  Nothing screams
thank you
like black lace with a red ribbon.  Since I won’t have time to iron my hair to give it the silky look I typically wear, I blow it out.  My hair is naturally straight so I’m kind of lucky in this aspect.  A quick makeup job and I’m ready to go, happy with my appearance. 

No sooner than a final glance in the mirror, I hear a knock at my door.  Looking through the peep hole, I see Jacoby looking sexy as sin.
  I mean really, this guy’s wearing nothing more than a simple black button-down shirt, tight fitting jeans and a leather jacket, but looks like he walked straight off a billboard.  I take a deep breath and open the door.

“Hey.”

“Kylee, you look amazing.  I hope you didn’t spend all day getting ready.” 
Well, isn’t he a fucking charmer?
  This guy knows how to lay it on thick.

“No, I didn’t
, but thank you for the compliment.”  The fact that I’m swooning over this guy has my stomach in knots.  If there’s any kind of guy in the world to get serious with, Jacoby is that guy.  I just can’t let myself get caught up in all the fuss.

“Well, we have plans for the evening.  We should get going.”  Jacoby puts out his arm for me to link with
his, and of course I do.

Michigan winters are a crazy thing.  It can be negative three degrees
with seven inches of snow on Monday, and by Wednesday it’s forty-five degrees and sunny.  Luckily, it’s a warmer winter night so I can leave the heavy jacket at home and be perfectly comfortable with the sweater dress I chose to wear. 

Jacoby walks us to his car, opening the passenger door for me like a true gentleman.  Once he’s situated in the
driver’s seat, he pulls out of the parking lot and heads for an unknown destination—unknown to
me
at least.  This man has the means to plan just about anything and I’m a little giddy to find out what he has in mind.

CHAPTER THREE

Jacoby

Kylee looks absolutely amazing.  Then again, she always does, but something about her tonight propels her from the usual gorgeous to definitively stunning.  The look of contentment and happiness in her eyes is unmistakable, and I might be getting a little ahead of myself, but I’m hoping it’s because of me.

Most girls simply pull off a look where Kylee
makes
the look.  She’s confident in her sex appeal and knows exactly what to wear to make her appear breathtaking.  So it’s no surprise, that sitting in a car with her while she’s wearing a red knit dress, skin tight thin black pants and those fuck me boots of hers, I’m finding it hard to concentrate.

I never thought I had a
single kind of woman I’ve been attracted to before; I never cared enough to only pick one.  Now, knowing Kylee, I for sure have a type; it’s her. 

“So, what’s the plan?”

“It’s a surprise.  Are you going to be warm enough without a coat?”  I’m starting to get nervous about what I have in store for her tonight.  We’re going to be spending quite a bit of time outside and I don’t want her to be miserable because she’s cold.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I place my hand
on her thigh over the thin pants and she doesn’t flinch away. 

We pull up to a small Arabic restaurant and park in the dimly lit parking lot. 
Kylee’s always going on about Middle Eastern food; hummus, shawarmas and fattoush.  When she looks up from her lap and sees the sign, her eyes light up and I know I hit the nail on the head.

“I
love
Arabic food.  Thanks, Jacoby.”  Her ear to ear smile warms my heart.

“See, I pay attention.  Let’s get you something to eat.”

I walk around to open Kylee’s door and intertwine our fingers as I lead us to the entrance.  She tries to pull her hand from mine once we reach the door, but I hold firm in an attempt to give her the full date experience.  Since there doesn’t appear to be a hostess of any kind, we grab a booth at the back and pull the menus from behind the salt and pepper shaker.  Kylee doesn’t even have to look, she apparently knows exactly what she’s getting.

“What are you gonna have?” Kylee asks.

“I don’t know.  I’ve never experimented much with Arabic food.  What do you suggest?”

Before she has a chance to answer, a young Middle Eastern girl comes to our table with glasses of water and pulls a notepad from her apron.
  I’m baffled by the scowl on Kylee’s face until I see the waitress is wearing a sheer, silky light blue top that covers only her breasts and matching pants that poof out around her long legs.

“What can I get you?”
the girl asks with a thick Arabic accent.  I’m quite positive I hear Kylee snarl at the girl’s question. 

Kylee jumps right in and orders a platter of some sort. 
“I swear she better not come back with a fucking magic lamp or some shit,”  Kylee mutters as the waitress walks away.

“A magic lamp?
  What are you talking about?”  Kylee looks up at me, rolls her eyes and huffs. 

“Really?
  She comes out here looking like a fucking belly dancer or Arabian princess, and she’s bound to come back with a lamp for me to rub.  My first wish is for her to put some fucking clothes on.”  I can’t help but chuckle; jealous Kylee is adorable.

“What would you wish for?” Kylee asks, catching me off guard.

“Well, I guess if I had a wish I would want …” Kylee stops me mid-sentence.

“Don’t you
dare
wish for more wishes.  No cheating.” 

The
waitress returns with a plate of warm bread and hummus—still underdressed.  Kylee wastes no time peeling apart the bread, scooping some of the blended chick peas on the end and devouring it, all while rolling her eyes at the waitress.

“Jacoby, eyes.  What are your wishes?” Kylee reiterates. 
I don’t mean to look, but I’m a man, right?
  I refocus my attention on my date and continue.

“I would want to give my parents a long vacation.  My dad retired a few years ago, leaving me the company, but he’s still very involved.  He’s not taken a real vacation in decades.”  Kylee’s look softens, like I’m breaking through her walls.

“Then, I would want my grandfather to be alive to be at my wedding.  He was one of the most influential people in my life.  He helped make me who I am.  My grandma really misses him, too.”  Kylee looks like she’s fighting back tears.

I’m about to tell my last wish when the waitress
stops back at our table, dropping off our entrée.  I’m not stupid enough to look at her again, and the sly, smug look on Kylee’s face tells me I’m doing better than before.

Kylee puts some of the food on each of our plates; lamb inside of a piece of pita bread, rice and some kind of meat on a skewer. 

“I swear if you would have told me that Arabic food in Ann Arbor could taste as good as East Dearborn, I would have called you a liar.  This is delicious.  Come on, eat.”  That’s another thing I love about Kylee; she’s not scared of food.  Too many girls will order a salad or something small when on a date.  This girl is shoveling pita and hummus in her mouth like it’s nobody’s business.

“So, what’s you
r last wish?” Kylee asks, piling food in her mouth, moaning with every bite.  My dick might not survive this dinner.

“My last wish, Ms. Anderson, is to have another date with you.”  Kylee’s face flushes and my cock aches for release.  When Kylee’s really embarrassed
, she blushes just like she does when her body convulses around my length.  It’s a sexy sight, let me tell you.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly now that Kylee’s more relaxed.  I’m sure Kylee’s thinking that the
date’s over when I pay the check, but I have other plans for her.  Kylee actually takes my hand in hers without me having to ask, which surprises me.  Instead of leading her to my car, I walk to the front of the restaurant that faces the street.  Looking confused and chilly, I pull her in to my chest, draping both of my arms around her.  She looks up at me, placing her arms around my waist and resting her face over my heart as I rub her back in an attempt to keep her warm.   Since she’s no longer facing the street, she doesn’t see when the horse and carriage appear.

“Ky, turn around.”  She reluctantly listens and her jaw drops when she notices what’s waiting for us.

“Are you kidding me?”  Kylee turns back to me, eyes glistening with unshed tears and the most genuine smile.

“Nope, let’s go.”  I pull her by the hand, waiting for her to take a step into the carriage and I follow. 

I gave very strict instructions to the company I rented from, and they followed them to the letter.  I requested for there to be hot chocolate ready, a carriage with an enclosure and a blanket—three for three.  If I’m not mistaken, Kylee appears to be choking back the tears that are oh so visible. 

“What’s wrong?”  I place a finger under her chin and raise her head to meet my eyes. 

“Nothing, this is perfect, Jacoby.  Absolutely perfect,” Kylee whispers, resting her head on my shoulder as the horse takes off on its journey. 

“I wanted to do something special for you.  I’m so happy you like this.”  My inner child is doing back flips that I did so well.  Usually, I fuck something up and it’s not what I planned in my head. 

We start our journey down the snow covered roads.  The moonlight is dancing on the freshly fallen flakes and Kylee looks like she’s in Heaven.  Her eyes are wide, a smile where I can see every one of her teeth and her warm delicate hand is holding on to mine, rubbing her thumb across my finger. 

“Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before,” she whispers, scooting closer to my side and pulling the blanket up over our laps.

“I’ve never done anything like this for anyone. 
Ever.
”  I still can’t believe I actually did this.  There’s just something so genuine about Kylee and I can’t help myself.  I turn into a pre-pubescent teenager when I’m with her.  I just want her to notice me and tell me how happy I make her.  This probably isn’t healthy. 
Or maybe it’s love, jackass.

Kylee puts the mug of hot chocolate to her lips and she pulls it back quickly, almost spilling
it all over us.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just really hot.”  Her face flushes and she puts her perfectly plump lips to the rim of the cup and begins to blow. 

The places my mind goes to watching this innocent act would make Jenna Jameson blush.  Imagining those lips wrapped tightly around my cock while she sucks it into her mouth. 
Watching her eyes water with the sensation of wanting to gag, but trying to suppress the feeling.  The way the locks of her hair wrap snugly around my fist, encouraging her to take me deeper, until I can feel the back of her throat.

Deep breath, Roberts.
  Think of something else.  The clack of the horses hooves against the concrete, the hangnail on my middle finger, anything, come on, man.

“So what did you want to be when you were little?” Kylee asks.  Well, that’s a little off the wall, but
she wants to talk, which is a huge accomplishment, and exactly where I want this night to go. 

“It changed a few times.  When I was eight, I wanted to be a cop. 
Eleven, a fire fighter and fourteen, a race car driver.  It wasn’t until I was twenty and working at my dad’s firm during the summer that I decided I wanted to work in real estate.  You?”  My mind starts to wander, knowing the exact moment my life’s plan had been revealed.  That summer changed my life forever.

Kylee laughs and her hair falls in front of her face, creating a curtain to me watching her emotions
, and recapturing my attention.  “I wanted to be a model.  My parents always told me how pretty I was and I thought it would be easy to make money and not really have to work at it.  I just hated all the cattiness of the other girls.  Those bitches are rude as shit.”

“So, why did you choose a degree in marketing?”  Now, I’m really invested.  What would a girl who wanted to be a model be doing in marketing classes?

“Isn’t that what modeling is?  Marketing yourself?  It seemed like a natural transition and something I could easily do—finding inventive ways to sell a product.  Plus, it sounded really exciting.”

Is she no longer excited?  If she’s having a hard time finding a job, I would gladly give her one.  We can always use a marketing assistant or something she can use her degree for.  I wish she would dive just a little further
, but with us pulling back up to the restaurant where we were picked up, it’s going to have to wait for another time. 

A sense of peace surrounds me as I sit with Kylee, doing nothing more than spending quality time with her, talking about childhood and friends.  Not that I mind the sex life that Kylee and I have, but it’s nice to have something much more than just sex. 
A foundation.  Something to build a relationship on, if she’ll consider that leap.

We walk around the back of the restaurant, my arm draped over Kylee’s shoulder and her snuggled into my side.  I knew she should have worn a coat; the temperature has dropped considerably since I picked her up.  Or is it bad that I’m glad she’s cold, since her arm is wrapped around my waist, fingers holding onto my hip, under my shirt? 

Kylee is still all smiles on the way back to her apartment, and the pride I feel for putting it there is unbelievable.  I’ve always been a man that makes calm and calculated decisions; it’s how my business has thrived and become one of Michigan’s top development companies.  Kylee brings out the romantic, rash side of me.  I only want to keep putting that upward curve on her delectable lips, and there’s not much I wouldn’t do to accomplish that goal.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Kylee asks when I pull up to her apartment complex.  I should just leave and let her stew on this amazing night we had, but I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame
.

“I’d love to.”  I put the car in park and turn off the ignition.  Kylee reaches for her door handle when my
hand coils around her waist, silently asking her to wait and allow me to be the gentleman I was raised to be.  Thankfully, she waits and lets me open her door for her. 

Part of me thinks that while I have Kylee such a fantastic mood, I need to initiate a conversation about where our relationship is going once we’re inside.  I’m really hoping that she’s going to be receptive and not closed off, like she’s been when we
’ve talked
us
before.  Then, there’s the other part of me that knows that if I ruin this night for her, she’s going to hide in that tower forever. 
Fuck it.
  If the conversation starts, it does and if it doesn’t, I’m not going to push her.

As I’m escorting her to the door, I find myself wishing that I had my own key to her apartment. 

After several moments of watching her fish around in the giant sack that’s more luggage than a purse—pulling out notepads, half eaten pen tops, her phone, a tablet and a package of gummy bears—I’m starting to wonder if a family of clowns is going to come out next. 

I start sighing, ready to just kick the door in and save us the time
, when she finally locates a key ring fit for a janitor—with at least ten, wait,
fifteen
key chains.