Sandy - Vested Interest

He released me, smiling. “Should I inquire about purchasing this?” He indicated the painting. “I’m sure I can find forty or fifty million kicking around somewhere.”

“Nice little souvenir,” I agreed. “But I don’t think they sell the paintings off the walls.”

“Pity.”

I slipped my arm through his. “Let’s go see more.”

Hours later, my feet were tired from walking, my mind full of all the beauty we’d seen. Outside, the sun was still shining, although the temperature had dropped a little as early evening set in. We waited for the car to arrive, our hands clasped together. “Thank you for today.”

Jordan tightened his grip on my fingers. “We can come back if you want. The membership is good for a year, and I can get us tickets to look at the exhibit again this weekend.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “Whatever you want to do this weekend, Sandy. It’s yours.”

“Dinner,” I stated. “I’m starving.”

He grinned, opening the car door as it came to a stop in front of us. “Our reservation is in two hours. I have some appetizers waiting at the hotel, and we can get dressed and go.”

He thought of everything. “Sounds perfect.”I stepped out from the bedroom, feeling strangely nervous. Jordan turned from the window, and our eyes met across the room. He walked toward me, giving me a chance to take him in. Dressed in a silver-gray suit that clung to his shoulders and suited his coloring, he was handsome. His hair was brushed to gleaming, and his tie matched his green eyes. He stopped in front of me, lifting my hands and kissing them.

“You are beautiful.” He grinned widely. “And we match.”

I had to laugh. My green dress shot with strands of silver went perfectly with his suit, as if we had coordinated.

Jordan stepped back and twirled his finger. “Let me see.”

Feeling like a teenager, I turned in a circle, my full skirt curling around my knees. Jordan shook his head. “You are so sexy, Sandy. Elegant, beautiful, and so, so… sensual. It boggles my mind.”

My blush threatened. “Thank you.”

He crooked his arm. “May I take you to dinner?”

I slipped my arm through his. “Yes.”A few hours later, I sat back with a groan. “I am so full.”

Jordan topped up our wine. “It was an amazing meal.”

“Amazing,” I agreed, then giggled. “So is this wine. I think I might be a little drunk.”

“I think we both are.”

The evening had been wonderful. The ambiance of the restaurant, Jordan’s company, our conversation—everything.

“You are the perfect date.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Perfect?”

I leaned forward, stroking my finger along his hand. He had strong hands. Large, capable of performing the most manual of tasks or touching me with the gentlest of caresses. “I can talk to you about anything. You never judge me.”

He cocked his head to the side. “I’m interested in anything you want to tell me, Sandy. I feel the same way about you. I enjoy our conversations.”

“You make me feel safe.”

He flipped his hand up and encased mine. “You are safe with me.”

“It’s been a long time since I felt that way.”

“I imagine so. I know the feeling of caring for an ill spouse. Nothing feels safe anymore. Nothing feels right. Your entire world is upside down, especially when you know they will be taken from you at some point and there’s nothing you can do.” He was quiet. “You offer me that safety as well, Sandy. I feel very peaceful with you.”

“Why did you put my bag in the master bedroom and yours in the other one?” I blurted out.

His smile was gentle. “I thought you’d like to soak in that huge tub. It didn’t matter to me what room I had, as long as you were happy. This weekend is all about you, my darling.”

His words, his thoughtfulness, his very closeness soaked into my soul.

I met his gaze directly. “What if what would make me happy was both of us in that room?”

There was a moment of silence. The pulse in his neck beat rapidly as he studied me. “Is that the wine talking?”

“No. It’s my heart.”

His grip on my hand tightened, and his eyes darkened. “Then I would signal for the check, and hurry back to the hotel to have you alone. In my arms.”

“Then pay the bill, Jordan.”

He signaled for the waiter.

We held hands in the car, Jordan’s thumb drawing restless circles on my skin. We didn’t attempt to make small talk or sit too close. Both of us were wavering on the sharp edge of desire, each caught up in our own thoughts and working through the varied emotions this moment was drawing out.

In the hotel room, we circled each other, unsure and on edge. Jordan held out his hand, then tugged me into his arms. “Let me sleep beside you tonight, Sandy. Just hold you. We don’t have to rush it.”