The Blind Date (3 page)

The waitress tried to tempt them with wine, but knowing she’d need to keep a clear head, Shawna declined. She requested water with lemon and Ryan selected a bottle of Orangina soda.

She fiddled with the napkin on her lap before curiosity overwhelmed her. “How do you know my brother-in-law and sister?”

“I met William first,” he said. “He and I go to the same bar, and one day we struck up a conversation and became friends. We happened to meet up there around the same time every so often to watch sports when he wasn’t working late at the hospital. He likes to show off photos of his family. It’s obvious how much he loves Yvonne and the kids.

“The last time I saw him, he mentioned his sweet and beautiful sister-in-law, and how he couldn’t figure out why you weren’t married. He hadn’t talked about you much before then, and when he said your name, I couldn’t believe it. I asked him your last name, and the next thing I know, he’s showing me a picture of you.”

“How did you convince him to set this up?”

“It wasn’t easy. At first he said no way, but then he said he’d discuss it with Yvonne. She eventually came on board when I told her I’d been looking for you and how happy I was to find you again.”

“My sister’s smarter than that. She can usually see through BS.”

“Maybe there wasn’t any BS. I really am happy to find you.”

His intense stare made Shawna uncomfortable. She played with the knife and fork on the table, moving them around before shifting them right back into the same position again.

“How long have you lived in Atlanta?” she asked.

“I moved here a few years ago. I’m a member of a few woodworking and custom furniture organizations. Someone in one of my networks heard about an owner selling his woodworking shop on the west end. It included the shop, the warehouse, and all the tools and machinery. After living in Oklahoma all my life, I wanted to leave and experience something different. I came to inspect the place and liked what I saw. The location was right, and the workers were anxious to please because they didn’t want to lose their jobs. I had a CPA inspect the books, and after the seller turned over his list of clients to me, I bought the place.”

“So you really did stay in custom furniture?”

Ryan nodded. “I was never cut out to sit in an office behind a desk. I need a scraper in my hand and the buzz of a power saw or sander in my head. The noise from the machines and the dust are like heaven to me. Few things are as enjoyable as building something from scratch. To consult with a client and take a product from a concept and create a useable piece of furniture—well, there’s nothing else like it. Of course being in this kind of business wreaks havoc on your hands.” He looked down at his palms.

His hands had been lightly calloused in Chicago from working on a farm most of his life and then as a woodworking apprentice. She’d never minded it, though.

“Congratulations on your success,” Shawna said.

“Congratulations are in order for you, too. William told me you opened a boutique.”

When she’d met Ryan, she’d finished school and worked at Saks Fifth Avenue, as she had every summer since her freshman year except when she went to France.

It had been her last summer with the company and they’d wanted to hire her on permanently, but she’d had other plans. She learned everything she could from them, the entire time thinking about her dream of one day opening her own store.

Nursing a wounded heart but determined to succeed, she’d opened a boutique named La Petite Robe a little over a year after moving to Atlanta. She chose Buckhead as the location, a major commercial district in the city. The astronomical lease initially caused her concern, but she’d made the right decision because the location turned out to be perfect, bringing in the type of clientele she longed to work with and who appreciated the designer clothing from New York and Paris.

Her success had surprised even her, but she probably wouldn’t have accomplished what she had so quickly if it weren’t for what had happened between her and Ryan. She’d put all her time and energy into the store, working hard to forget him and his lies, slicing in half her timetable to open the boutique.

The waitress arrived with the drinks and the soups.

“Thank you,” Shawna said, about to dig in when she felt Ryan’s gaze on her and saw the longing in his eyes. Her insides twisted painfully.

“Do you remember our first night together?” he asked.

She moistened her lips with her tongue but regretted it when he zeroed in on her mouth. Taking in a slow, deep breath, she wiped her damp palms on the napkin in her lap. “Are you going to keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Make references to our night together.”

“I thought that’s why we were here.”

“You’re mistaken. We’re here to catch up, not talk about the past.”

“I don’t think we can have one without the other.”

“You’re mistaken again.”

He fell quiet and his silent observation caused a curious sensation to settle in her stomach. Ryan made her feel on edge and she had a sudden urge to scoot her chair back. The square table between them no longer seemed adequate.

“Are you telling me you don’t think about it?” he asked quietly. “What it was like that first night?”

She’d thought about it often and had unfairly compared all her first dates and every other man to him over the years. They invariably fell short. Hard to believe how one night changed her life so much.

She shrugged, pretending a nonchalance she was far from feeling. “Every now and again.”

He leaned forward. “Liar.”

Heat burned her cheeks, and she was grateful for her dark complexion so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to admit that you think about it often, because I do. I have yet to meet a woman who measures up to you. The memory is as vivid as if it had been yesterday. I remember taking you out to dinner and you wore that bluish colored dress from work.”

Teal
, she corrected in her head. She remembered what he wore, too. He’d dressed up to impress her.

“I remember the look on your face when I pulled up in front of the restaurant.”

“It was a nice restaurant. And a very expensive one, too.”

His unwavering gaze held hers. “You were worth every dime. And more.”

Chapter Five

Chicago, Friday, six years ago

Shawna couldn’t hide her surprise when Ryan returned to Saks dressed in a white shirt, tie, and pressed slacks. He’d shaved off the day-old facial hair, and she smelled a hint of musk from his aftershave.

Her brows lifted. “You clean up well.”

“I didn’t make a good first impression so I figured I’d better bring my A-game. I passed this time?” Arms outstretched, he turned in a slow circle.

He definitely had a nice body and she whistled, noting the firm butt and narrow waist. “Not bad, Mr. Stewart.”

“Which reminds me. You owe me something.”

“What’s that?”

“A last name.”

“It’s Ferguson.”

“Shawna Ferguson,” he said, as if committing it to memory.

“By the way, my co-workers have your name and they’re writing down your license plate number as we speak. So don’t do anything crazy.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything crazy—unless you want me to.” He drew a laugh when he wagged his eyebrows, and then he looked at the store to see two women standing at the window. He waved and they waved back. Returning his gaze to Shawna, he crooked his arm. “Your chariot awaits.”

She looped her arm through his and followed to the illegally parked Lexus at the curb. She was enjoying this way too much even though she hardly knew him.

“Nice chariot.”

“It’s my brother’s and so are the clothes.”

“Maybe I should be going to dinner with your brother.”

“Watch your mouth.”

She laughed at the mock hurt expression on his face and slid onto the soft leather of the passenger seat. Ryan got in and took the wheel. She had no idea where they were headed, but she had a feeling that if he’d gone to this much trouble, she wouldn’t be disappointed in his choice of restaurant.

Michigan Avenue, aka the Magnificent Mile, had no shortage of places to dine. Every type of cuisine could be found on the main road or down the side streets. When he pulled up in front of a turn-of-the-century brownstone, she almost gasped.

She’d eaten at the award-winning restaurant once and had fallen in love with the chef’s ability to create flavorful dishes from seasonal choices. The
prix-fixe
menu only offered four- or five-course meal options and it wasn’t cheap.

Shawna swung her gaze to Ryan.

He grinned, as if he knew he’d done good. “Still making a good impression?”

“Definitely.”

Inside, large floral arrangements bursting with summer flowers adorned the dining room. Knock-offs of impressionist paintings and abstracts from local artists hung on the walls. A hostess escorted them to a table where they immediately ordered a four-course meal and a bottle of wine.

The time passed quickly, thanks to Ryan’s sense of humor. By the time the cheese course arrived—a plated assortment of mild to sharp cheeses, accompanied by a baguette, sliced figs, dried apricots, and nuts—Shawna found herself laughing at everything he said. She didn’t know if it was because he was so funny or because of the almost empty bottle on the table between them.

She rested her chin in one hand and swirled a glass of white wine in the other. “Okay, truth time. You’re not unattractive so I can’t figure out why you feel the need to follow women around and try to seduce them with expensive meals at French restaurants.”

She sipped from the glass, eyeing him through her lashes over the rim. Oh boy, she was full-on flirting now. Maybe she needed to slow down. She set the glass on the table.

Leaning back in the chair, Ryan watched her with an amused expression. He tended to smile a lot, which was nice. It made his blue eyes sparkle like the sun bouncing off ocean waves.

“Is it working?”

“Yes, but you can’t seriously tell me you don’t have a girlfriend somewhere.”

His smile wobbled before slipping back into place. “I don’t.”

For the first time since she’d sat down to dinner, she wondered if he had someone in his life, and the thought disturbed her enough that she lowered her gaze to the cheese plate and picked up a couple of walnuts. During that millisecond of time, envy filled her and the desire to make him hers overcame her.

Brushing aside the disquieting thoughts, Shawna continued the light-hearted banter they’d engaged in since the beginning of the meal. “Likes and dislikes,” she said. “I love watching action movies, but none of my girlfriends like them, and I always end up going to the movies alone.”

“Where have you been all my life?” Ryan folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, flexing his biceps oh so nicely. “Every woman I’ve ever dated hates action flicks. In the summer, I buy a movie package so I can see all the blockbusters at a discounted rate.”

“Me, too!”

He reached for a nut at the same time she did, and their fingers brushed. They both pulled back quickly, and the unexpected jolt to Shawna’s system stunned her. She lowered her eyes from Ryan’s gaze and inhaled to slow the rate of her beating heart. What had just happened?

Scraping his hand through his hair, Ryan cleared his throat. He couldn’t ever remember being this nervous around a woman before. The simple act of brushing their fingertips against each other almost made him leap out of the chair.

“So, um . . . tell me about your trip to France.” She’d mentioned earlier that she’d traveled to France while in college.

A wistful expression came over her features as she reflected on the fond memories. “I spent an amazing summer there after my freshman year.” She had a nice voice. Low but feminine. He’d been asking her questions all night to hear her talk.

“I went only a few years ago but it seems much longer.” She laughed. “I’d love to go back.”

“You have to say something in French so I can hear you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” She looked embarrassed. If it wasn’t for her russet complexion, he knew he’d see her cheeks redden.

“Why not? Maybe you can’t really speak it fluently . . . ?” He let the question sit out there as a challenge, and right away she took the bait.

“
Je parle français couramment, mais je préfère parler anglais parce que c’est ma langue maternelle.
”

His attraction to her catapulted into the stratosphere when she uttered the words. He definitely liked a French-speaking Shawna. Her voice had taken on a musical quality, as if she’d shifted into character when she spoke the language. Even though he had no idea what she’d said, the words happened to be some of the hottest he’d ever heard. The sudden movement against the zipper of his jeans proved how much he enjoyed them.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I said I speak French fluently, but I prefer to speak in English because it’s my native tongue.”

Her smile blew him away. She had his undivided attention, and all of a sudden the thoughts that had plagued him since coming to visit his brother melted away. He ignored the guilt because all that mattered was right here, right now, with Shawna.

He was certain, in a way he hadn’t been before, that she was the kind of woman—no,
the
woman—he wanted to be with. But she’d be leaving the day after tomorrow, moving back to South Carolina. The thought sobered him.

“What do you want to do tonight?” A loaded question. One that, if he answered it honestly himself, would involve them spending the night in the most intimate of ways. “Let’s go to a movie,” he offered.

“I’m not really in the mood for a movie.” She twirled the stem of her glass on the table. “Ryan,” she said thoughtfully, looking down into the Chardonnay. “I can’t tell you how much—”

“How about dancing?” he rushed out. “You said you like to dance.” He didn’t want the night to end.

“I do.”

“There’s got to be somewhere we can go. What do you usually do on a Friday night?”