Heart Shaped Spotlight

Finally I just walked to my closet and pulled out a simple purple dress. It would be appropriate for a dinner date, wasn't teasingly sexy, but it did show off my breasts a bit. Realizing that he had never seen me in heels, I found a pair that were both walkable and pretty, and seriously showed off my legs.

Checking the time, I went down to meet the car that he had insisted on sending for me. His overprotective, slightly possessive attitude was strangely hot. He was a gorgeous, globally known success, yet I was the girl he was head over heels for.

Grinning to myself as I walked through the hotel lobby, I went straight to his room and knocked on the door.

I rarely felt pretty. I liked to feel smart, competent, and good at my job. That usually involved wearing clothes that could get dirty, with my hair tied back. Actually trying to look attractive was strange, but watching Nate's face light up as he opened the door made any discomfort completely worthwhile.

"Holy shit, baby," he murmured, staring at me from head to toe. I could feel myself blushing slightly, but tried to wave it off.

Leading me inside and closing the door, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him for a soft kiss. It felt like he was teasing, as if it was simply a taste of things to come.

A

s his hands glided down my back, the thought I had been trying to drive out of my head all day returned. We were alone in a hotel room, with a giant bed. That thought was too much to deal with, so I focussed on the delicious pressure of his lips on mine, his strong arms holding me so tightly.

Looking up at him, that adorable boyish grin made my knees unstable. "I had no idea what to order," he said excitedly, “So I asked the chef to make whatever he thought the most gorgeous woman in the world would want for dinner."

I followed his glance to a little bistro table that was set up in front of the window. The furniture had been arranged so that a corner of the room was now our own private restaurant.

After we sat down, and he poured the wine, I started to giggle. Nate just raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to explain. "Sorry. It's just that… This is such a lovely classic date, and since it's my very first one, I'm rather impressed."

Something in his eyes shifted as we touched glasses and tasted the wine. “You really haven't been with any other guy? Not even a stolen kiss?"

I shook my head. "No. I've been too busy, I guess," I winked at him.

Nate’s shoulders lowered a half inch. He removed the covers from our plates with a dramatic flourish, and I almost squealed at the sight of three different kinds of pasta.

"I was thinking of getting your favorite mac and cheese," he said, "But I'm trying to keep in mind that you are a completely different person. I need to stop making assumptions."

That was surprising. "Thank you," I said quickly.

We began to eat, alternating with staring out the window at the city, and peppering each other with questions.

"So, it seems that you've escaped your parents," he said. "Where are they now?"

"They were in Ottawa when I moved back here for school. They kept trying to keep me there, or find a way to move with me, but I finally put my foot down when they moved to Calgary."

"Good for you."

He noticed that I was stabbing at my fusilli a little too energetically. "Are you still pissed off at them?"

My head bobbed heavily. "Yes. I've come to terms with that. My dad is a total selfish asshole, and my mother is a complete pushover who won't speak up for herself."

I took a sip of water to collect my thoughts. "I don't ever want to be a pathetic little weakling like she is. She lets my father control her completely. He goes through her entire phone every single day. I got the impression that her dad was the same way, not respecting any privacy. What kind of a person just sits around and lets men control their lives? It's sick."

Nate nodded, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

"I know that I am shy and jumpy,” I continued, "But I have a backbone. I know what I want. I'm never letting anyone control me again." I tried to smile. “Maybe that’s why I wasn’t ready to date.”

He squeezed my hand, smiling gently. "I'm glad that you're breaking the cycle," he said. "Trisha, I would never want to control you. I want to help you when I can. But your life is your business, and I am just thrilled to be a part of it again."

With no idea what to say to that, I nibbled some garlic bread. Then I laughed. "You don't seem to mind being controlled a little. You must have record company people pushing you around a bit."

"Not nearly as much as some," he said, nodding. "I guess I've been pretty lucky so far. But also, you know me – I'm pretty mellow. A lot of musicians are pigheaded. They won't compromise in the slightest. Whereas I'm fine changing a few lines of a song if it means selling it to a globally known singer for a truckload of money."

I didn’t want to touch on the subject of him writing songs for me. "So you write your own music, but you also sell songs to other people?"

He licked a speck of pasta sauce from his lips, then grinned widely. "It's ridiculous how much money there is in ghostwriting songs. I get paid, and I get the satisfaction of knowing people everywhere will be singing along to my ideas. It's pretty damn cool."