Stop. What did I just think?
I’m about to take it off when Sylvia appears at my door. Her eyes immediately light up. “You have a date?”
“Business dinner.” Her smile falters, and I can’t help feeling mildly guilty, which is utterly absurd.
“How was working with Marcus? Isn’t he the sweetest thing?”
Going into my bathroom, I dodge the question as I quickly brush out my hair. Sweet is not a word I would use for Marcus. “He needs someone to update his company website. It’s pretty run of the mill stuff.”
“But fun? Interesting?”
I’m not sure where she’s going with this, and I pause. She’s again dressed in her robe and she looks ready for bed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been out every night for the last three nights.”
“You were home last night,” she argues. “And you forget I was living alone before you moved back.”
Chewing my lip, I can’t help feeling penitent. “We’ll go to dinner tomorrow. Just the two of us.”
“We will not. I’ve got my Bridge game at Cassandra’s.” Shaking her head, she walks to my door. “Just like children—convinced their parents have no social life.”
Laughing, I can’t help remembering my conversation with Marcus earlier today. I suppose my ball-busting comes honest. “Sorry. I forget you have a very active social life.”
“Just be careful.” She drops on the couch, picking up the television remote. “Make good choices. Don’t do drugs.”
That makes me laugh even more. “I’m not sixteen, Mom. And I never was much for the mind-altering substances.”
Droppin
g her head back, she gives me a signature Sylvia smile. “I’m only teasing, darling. Have a nice time. You look lovely. Be careful Marcus Merritt doesn’t fall in love with you.”
Her words are like a bucket of ice water straight to my stomach. “No worries there.” I’m out the door feeling shell-shocked, and the evening hasn’t even begun.
* * *
Marcus meets me at the door to his condo looking good enough to eat. He’s wearing dark slacks and a light blue polo with the sleeves cuffed, but his hair’s a gorgeous mess, and that light scruff is still on his face. The overt appreciation when he sees me prompts an unwelcome flutter through my stomach, especially in view of Sylvia’s pronouncement. Dammit, Sylvia. Is it time? Was that the signal to run?
I don’t have a chance to answer my internal question before he pulls his door closed and catches my elbow. “I had an idea where I was going to take you, but now I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh, really?” My amusement at his conspiratorial tone cancels out my internal debate.
“That dress would be wasted at Wasabi.”
“The Japanese place?” I’m tempted to change. “You said steak and pinot, so I went fancy.”
Catching my waist with a grin, he escorts me to his car. “We’ll wear jeans and eat ramen on our first date.”
My eyes narrow. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Yes. Save the most expensive dinners for the firm’s tab.”
He’s holding my door, and I step in with a laugh. He’s excited and playful, and nothing in me wants to change his mood.
“How’s it going with the web updates?” His eyes are on the road as we make our way to I-94.
“I touched base with a few of the designers you liked. I think Superior Design would be a good choice. They’re fun and interactive but elegant.”
He nods, taking the Milwaukee Street exit. “I trust your judgment.”
“I’d like to take better headshots of the three of you.”