MissBEHAVED

“No, you weren’t too blunt. I also value honesty, and I’d rather have you be direct than beat around the bush or, worse, try to manipulate me using false pretenses.”

If he’d come in here asking to have coffee as friends, it would have thrown up a red flag telling me to run in the other direction. But by laying it all out there, he actually intrigued me more.

“Well, I think you guys should get to know each other better since you already have so much in common,” Grace commented from behind Dixon, startling us both.

“Grace, I think there are some panties that need to be hung and steamed in the back.” I tried to convey with my laser stare just what I thought of her butting in, but her words gave me more reasons to give him a chance.

“Yes, boss.” She rolled her eyes but walked past Dixon and I, toward the back. “I can work Sunday afternoon if you need me to.”

I shot a glare at Grace’s retreating backside that she didn’t see and turned back to face Dixon, finding him watching me intently.

“Your friend’s very helpful,” he noted, not giving any hint at what he was thinking. Very judicious of him.

I snorted at that. “Grace is something else. She’s my best friend, but a little nutty sometimes.”

He took a step closer, and the scent of his cologne surrounded me, making me fight the urge to take a deep breath so I could draw him into my body.

“Could I take you to dinner on Sunday, Melody?” His voice rolled through me, making my thighs clench as it set off a wave of arousal I was helpless to stop. “Knowing what I want in my relationship, do you want to explore this attraction we’re both feeling right now?”

I appreciated the reminder of what we’d discussed the other night, but it only fueled my desire. The thought of this man taking my hand and pulling me over his knee didn’t dissuade me in the least. I think Grace’s nuttiness had rubbed off on me, but in that moment, I didn’t care how crazy my thoughts were.

I nodded, holding his gaze. “Yes, I’ll have dinner with you on Sunday.”

A pleased smile chased away the worry that I hadn’t noticed was there until it was gone. Dixon’s eyes were expressive, and I liked that he didn’t try to hide his feelings. I didn’t know him well enough to recognize the full array of emotions, but something told me I would.

“Give me your address. I’ll pick you up.”

And here was the first hurdle.

“I’d rather meet you at the restaurant. Where do you want to go?”

I wasn’t ready for him to see where I lived. He needed to get to know me better before the truth of my financial circumstances was shoved in his face. Experience taught me that men were either intimidated by my family or saw a future of easy living. I suspected, if anything, Dixon would fall into the first category, and I really didn’t want that to happen.

He looked like he wanted to argue but, after a moment, conceded.

“I can see where that makes sense. You don’t know me, and you don’t know that I’d never do anything to hurt you, but you will.”

I didn’t bother to tell him that safety hadn’t even crossed my mind. Based on our conversation the other night, I suspected that wouldn’t make him happy.

“Do you want to meet at Ristorante Rizzoli?” I suggested one of my favorite places in Ellicottville. Not fancy, but quiet, with excellent Italian food.

“Sounds good. Six o’clock?” He grinned, and it nearly took my breath away, so I simply nodded in response. “Great. I’ll make a reservation.”

“Thank you.” My words returned just as a couple walked into the shop. “I’d better go. I’ll see you Sunday at six.”

He nodded and his gaze turned intense. “Looking forward to it, Melody.”

He walked away, leaving a hint of amber and spice in his place. I gave myself ten seconds to breathe and catch my bearings, and let what I agreed to sink in. I had a date with Dixon. A man who was as handsome as he was persuasive, brutally honest, and forthright—all things I appreciated. But he was also a man who liked control, and even though he said he wanted an independent woman, I wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate just how independent and self-reliant I really was once he got to know me.

The weekend flew by after Dixon’s visit to the shop. Grace dissected every second of the interaction until I finally threatened to withhold all information about the date if she didn’t shut up. Of course, then she switched to planning my outfit and hairstyle, going so far as to show up at my house at nine in the morning on Sunday to ‘approve’ my selection before she went to church.

I opened the store on Sunday and tried to distract myself with cleaning and organizing so I didn’t overthink the date. I’d done enough of that Saturday night. As much as I wasn’t looking for a relationship, a part of me felt like this was a dream come true. A strong, dominant man who wasn’t afraid of a smart, independent woman? It sounded like a match made in heaven.

Even his promise of consequences for bad behavior did nothing to quell my anticipation. I wasn’t ashamed to admit I enjoyed my romance novels on the hot side and was no stranger to BDSM. While I prized my independence, I didn’t mind having my partner take control in the bedroom. Though, Dixon definitely wanted to cross that line.

I pushed that thought out of my head, for now, determined to get to know him without taking into account that piece of information. Yes, it was good to know his desires up front, but before we even discussed what taking control meant to him, I needed to make sure we could share a meal. What if he chewed with his mouth open, or swore like a sailor in public? Or what if he spent the whole date talking about himself and made no attempt to get to know me? I wasn’t fussy, but basic good manners and politeness were important, and I certainly wouldn’t agree to let him be in charge if he didn’t have my respect. And, as much as I tried to minimize the truth, the fact was that any man of mine had to be able to hold his own at a society function. My family owned a long-established brokerage firm that catered to Pittsburgh’s elite, and even though I didn’t work in the family business, I still had some obligations.

I inspected my reflection in the full-length mirror, hoping I’d struck the right balance between first date sexy and not trying too hard. I’d chosen a dress, but a casual maroon sweater knit that hugged my curves until just above my knees but wasn’t so tight that every bump and bulge was visible. Paired with cream-colored tights and knee-high brown leather boots, I felt good. And that was the most important thing, according to my mother. If you felt good about your outfit, you’d look good in it, no matter what.

After reminding myself of that pearl of wisdom, I put on my coat, grabbed my purse, and headed out to meet Dixon, the man who might be the man of my dreams.