So Into You (4 page)

She crossed her arms and rested them
on the top of his cubicle while she pondered his request. "You know?
You're right, dinner would be nice. I always pay my debts and I haven't
actually had time to relax over a meal lately with all this work chaos. When
were you thinking?"

Phil was smart enough to know he had
to strike while the iron was hot, and before she dug up some excuse to get out
of it. "Well, it's short notice, but I don't have a darn thing on my
schedule for tonight. How about you?"

She blinked then nodded,
straightening and touching her collar absently. It was almost a nervous gesture
and it wasn't wasted on Phil. She was uncertain, but she was going to go along
with his plan. He held his breath to see if he was right.

"Okay."

Whew.

"Pick you up at seven?"
Since he'd dropped work off at her home a couple of times, he knew where she
lived.

"That'll be fine." She
moved away. "How about someplace quiet? After this madhouse eight hours a
day, I've never understood how anyone can look forward to screaming at other
people all night long just to be heard."

"You got it. See you
tonight."

He spoke to her back as she walked
rapidly down the hall and disappeared around the corner. Should he feel guilty
for taking advantage of the situation to weasel a date with her?

Hell no. He'd done a good thing and
an evening with his goddess was his reward. He reminded himself that he did
truly intend it to be just a pleasant evening. The full execution of some of
his more erotic fantasies would have to wait.

But the thought of seeing her out of
the office, of actually sharing some time as a man and a woman not
coworkers—Phil erupted from his chair and held his arms up above his head, as
if he'd scored a Super Bowl-winning touchdown. He even threw in his personal
crazy end-zone dance.

This
was what he had wanted for so long. Now all he had to do
was make sure he gave her the best evening she'd ever had.

Piece of cake.

*~*~*~*

Casey stared in panic at her closet.
What the
fuck
had she been thinking? Not just agreeing to go out to
dinner with Phil, but to do it
that very night
. Jesus H, she must have
had some sort of seizure of the common sense right before saying yes.

He was going to take her out to
dinner. Okay. So did that mean jeans and a t-shirt and tacos, or black silk and
pearls and oysters? If one ate oysters while wearing pearls, was that some form
of cannibalism-by-proxy?

Shit.

Like so many of her gender, she
flip-flopped over outfits, picking up some, setting aside others, putting back
more than a few, and finally, when the pile was down to a manageable size,
trying on.

She had a couple of hours, since
she'd actually decided to treat herself by leaving work on time. Her shower was
done, she was shaved, powdered, scented and moisturized. She wore her best lace
lingerie for moral support. Or at least that's what she told herself. She
absolutely did not plan on giving anyone a glimpse of that lingerie, of course.
But she was a good girl and had listened to her mother's continual reminders
about always going out in clean underwear in case she had an accident and had
to go to hospital.

Several years after this song became
routine, Casey found herself tempted to point out to her mother that if the
accident was bad enough to land her in hospital she'd probably have crapped her
panties by then anyway. But it would only have started an argument she really
didn't want to have. So she kept her opinions to herself.

And those thoughts contributed not a
damn thing toward the actual decision of what to wear for dinner with Phil.

Finally she opted for comfort over
style. The two of them had been working in the same building for quite some
time and he knew she could be fashionably groomed. The annual softball game had
proved she could wear shorts and the Halloween cookout had shown him she could
flaunt jeans with the best of 'em. So for this particular evening, she had
nothing to prove.

It wasn't like it was a first date
or anything.

She slipped into her favorite skirt
and blouse—purchased because they were feminine, made her feel wonderful and
had a touch of Victorian lace which catered to Casey's romantic side. The one
that devoured erotic novels over long winter nights.

The soft lavender did wonders for
her skin and she smiled at herself in the mirror as she ran a comb through her
hair. No, this wasn't a date. But she was going to look as nice as she could,
which she would have done anyway, even if she had been going out with the
girls.

Yeah, right.

Her image lifted an eyebrow and she
picked up her sandals, shocked to see a slight tremor in her hand.

There was something about this man
that had crept quietly into the back of her mind, made itself at home, and
ordered in. It was…comforting. Phil was a man who would be there, no matter
what. He'd already proved that today, but Casey had no problem grasping that
facet of his personality from what others around her had said.

Everyone liked him. Point in his
favor.

Except bitch-Joan-the-ex. Actually
that was another point in his favor.

Irritated that she was doing all
this intense thinking, instead of just looking forward to dinner, she marched
into her living room and plunked her shoes down on the floor by the door. There
was still time to do a final check of her email and then throw on a coat of
mascara. Maybe a touch of perfume. No heavy makeup tonight. It was all about
relaxing and enjoying the food.

And certainly no necking or
anything. No smooching. No long lingering wet kisses or the touch of a man's
hand under a skirt that was soft and drifting and designed to be lifted…

Ah, crap.

If she kept thinking like that, the
lace panties wouldn't even make it out the door.

Meanwhile, in an apartment across
town, Phil laid all his suits out on the bed like a gigolo picking the most
appealing set. He had just dropped a hundred bucks or so at the pharmacy on
every type of condom there was. His bedside table was littered with everything
from rainbow colored to ribbed, along with sheepskin and a couple of
glow-in-the-dark versions. He had even bought some extra large—prominently
marked—hoping she'd see the wrapper and be impressed.

He believed in being prepared.
Tonight wasn't going to be the night, but when the hookup eventually occurred,
he'd be ready. And adequately supplied for the next five years.

Realistic enough to know things
never went quite as planned, Phil was optimistic about his evening. He'd waited
a long time for this small window of opportunity with Casey. He was finally
done with the hinting around, the flirting and the casual invitations for
coffee or a movie.

He'd learned the hard way that the
worst thing about an infatuation is the knowledge of almost certain failure. At
last the tide had turned in his favor and he wasn't going to miss this chance.

A white shirt and his dark blue suit
seemed to fit the bill and as he dressed he considered restaurants. His
favorite place was José Wong's Mexican Chinese Salsa Palace. One taste of their
chicken chow mein burrito was enough to hook a customer forever.

But this night needed something a
bit more…
elegant
. He nodded to himself. MacDounnald's was perfect. The
menu was varied but simple, featuring well-cooked dishes that appealed to just
about everyone. To his mind that was infinitely preferable to a list of foods
he couldn't pronounce. She'd have plenty of options and he could advise her if
she had questions, thus appearing to be a man with his finger on the pulse of
today's cuisine. Plus there was also the consideration that on his salary
anything fancier was pretty much out.

He'd lived this night so many times
in his mind that actually preparing for it wasn't as difficult as he'd
imagined. Although he had wondered if he should relieve the pressure before
their date just in case, so he wouldn't embarrass himself by losing control
within the first ten seconds. But he'd resolved that nothing would happen
tonight.

On the way to her apartment, Phil
made a promise to himself. He was going to do his best to relax, to let Casey
see who he really was. No efforts to impress her or act like some kind of rock
star stud. He was going to be the man he wanted her to like, the genuine guy
who was out with a woman he found amazingly attractive.

He grinned as he remembered some of
his early dates when a rolled-up sock down the front of his pants had seemed
like a good idea. Thank God he was past that stage. The sock was securely
tucked into his glove compartment. He hadn't used it in—well, months at least.

Walking up to her door, he realized
all he really wanted was to have a good time.

Of course, he didn't rule out the
chance that bells would ring and wild carnal adventures might ensue. The
thought made him smile and subtly adjust the fit of his pants.

He reached for the doorbell only to
see the door open before he'd pressed it. She must have been waiting for him.

"Wow." He stepped back and
stared.

"Well, thank you." She
smiled.

"You look…God, you look
amazing." Nerves swamped him as he absorbed the vision of her in something
soft and lacy. It fit her like a glove and took his breath away because it was
so different to what he'd come to think of as her "look".

She waited, and then finally cleared
her throat. "Uh…are we going? Is everything okay?"

He gulped. "Sorry. You look so
incredible I just…well, anyway…" He gave up and shrugged. "Car's out
front."

She didn't seem to mind him opening
the door for her, which he liked. And when he slipped in behind the wheel, he
couldn't help but look at her long legs neatly crossed beside him. She had
really nice legs. Really, really nice legs.

The dashboard illuminated her
features as he turned the key. He caught her movement in his peripheral vision
and shot her a quick look. "Is it too cold in here? You want the heater
turned on?"

Casey smiled. "No, I'm
fine".

"I have to agree with you
there." He couldn't resist the flirtatious comeback.

"So where are we going?"

The silence built for a moment.
"MacDunnald's." He waited for the inevitable response.

She didn't disappoint him.
"Really? You're
serious
? McDonalds?"

"Yep. So just sit back and
enjoy the ride."

She shrugged. "Well fine. But
no stealing my French fries."

"I told you this was a nice
place."

Casey shook her head and sighed.
They were seated by a window looking out over the darkening street in a very
pleasant downtown restaurant and yes, he'd caught her fair and square with his
little play on names.

She'd laughed, punched him in the
arm and told him it wasn't fair to pull crap like that before dinner.
Especially since they had her favorite steak tips on the menu and she was able
to add a fully loaded baked potato to complete her evening's indulgences.

They sat over drinks, waiting for
their entrees and both gazing at the lights which began to come on as the sun
set outside.

"This is nice." Casey
looked across the table.

"I'm glad you think so. I've
been here a couple of times, but never with a date. It's casual but the
ambience is a little more romantic than some of the more formal places."

She toyed with the stem of her
glass. "Is this a date? I thought it was a payoff."

"Did you?
Really
?"

She couldn't quite meet his gaze and
turned to look out the window once more. "Okay. That was low. If it had
been a payoff, I wouldn't be here. Yes, I'm grateful as hell you caught my
screw-up, but I would never go to dinner with anyone out of gratitude."

He blew out a little breath.
"Good to know."

"Still doesn't make it a date
though." She held up a cautionary finger. "There are implications in
the word
date
. I'm not sure those implications apply here."

"Implications?" He raised
an eyebrow.

She paused. Yes, for her there were
implications. A date meant being with someone who could potentially be
important. Someone who one might get naked with—not a trivial consideration.

And beside the sex, someone who
might matter more than others.

Someone who might end up not being
there any more through no fault of their own.

Casey knew this was grief talking.
She was aware of her irrational fears and determined to overcome them. But
something was telling her this nice man with his gentle humor and bedroom eyes
might be all of those things she'd just listed to herself.

And she was definitely still scared.
So she met his gaze squarely. "Yeah. Implications."