A/N: Standard disclaimer applies to this story.
I'd like to thank Merciki and RangerLuv2, for reading through the rough draft and urging me to continue, and Highlands Girl, for putting her amazing beta skills to work on this chapter. I really couldn't have finished this one without your suggestions and encouragement.
Chapter 16. Something to get off my chest
"Packing, Babe?"
"Ouch!" Stephanie yelped in pain, rubbing the back of her head to feel for a goose egg. When she'd jerked up from the crouch on her closet floor to the sound of Ranger's voice, she'd hit the shelf hanging over the shoe rack.
"C'mere, I'll kiss that knot better." His voice, tinged with amusement, drifted into the tight space between the racks of her clothes.
She groaned, knowing just as well as he did, that the bump would go away on its own in a moment, and then managed, "Gimme a minute."
After her head had stopped throbbing, her hand slid down to the back of her neck to settle over the familiar tingle. A lot of good this hypersensitivity is doing me, if he can still catch me by surprise, she mused darkly as her excited anticipation was swept away by a wave of acute panic. Omigod. He knows I'm leaving.
With trembling hands, she straightened her one-shouldered tunic and tried to collect her addled thoughts. Earlier, as she was getting ready for the date, it occurred to her that while she still wanted her someday with Ranger, she wasn't ready for it to start tonight. On their first real date, she was hoping to spend time with him, content with staying in the moment, and just let go, without overthinking it. Uncertain how he'd take the news of her imminent departure, she wanted to create memories to take along on her journey, just in case… But now that his early arrival had dashed her hopes of telling him about her trip on her terms, she briefly entertained the ridiculous though not altogether unappealing thought of hiding in her closet for the rest of the night.
"Babe, come out now, or I'm coming in."
She heard the smile in his voice and was at a loss for interpreting his lack of reaction to seeing the wheeled duffle, which she'd gotten at Macy's for a steal during last season's holiday sale, packed to the brim, at the foot of the bed. Mustering up all the confidence she could, she picked up a pair of black sling backs and sashayed back out into the bedroom.
Ranger was leaning on the doorjamb of the bathroom, six short steps away from the bed. Waiting for her to emerge from the closet, he'd folded his arms across his chest, the sleeves of his charcoal button-down rolled up to his elbows, the contrasting slate cuffs folded over his taut muscles. He'd left his sable hair loose, and she had to reel in the urge to thread her fingers through the silky mane when she stepped in front of him. His dark eyes glinted, meeting hers, as if he knew what she was thinking.
"You're stunning," he said, his voice dropping as he drank her in, from the tousled sun-streaked curls cascading down her shoulders, and the iridescent blue chiffon top, matching her bright eyes, down to her toes, painted deep red. He pushed off the jamb, reached forward, and gently tugged her to him by the belt loops of her tailored ankle pants. "Just beautiful."
"You're not so bad either," she said, her face turning a light shade of pink under the sheer makeup.
"Babe." The corners of his lips curved up. "You ready to go?"
She blew out a long breath, dropping her gaze down to the pumps still dangling off her fingers. "Aren't you going to tell me that I should be more aware of my surroundings?"
"Wasn't planning to," he said softly before brushing his lips over hers once, twice, and then drew back an inch, "it would ruin the mood."
As his lips traveled up her jaw, her eyes fluttered closed, and she stammered, "The mood for what?"
"Tonight, I'm going to seduce you," he murmured in her ear, "mind, heart, and body."
His words sent shivers down her spine, and she felt the heat flaring up within. He'd often told her that teasing him was like playing with fire, and tonight, it seemed, he was set on burning her to a crisp.
The shoes landed on the carpet with two dull thuds, one echoing another, and her hands flew to his shoulders, her fingers curling into the silk of his shirt. As his mouth sought hers again, his clever tongue coaxed her lips apart, scrambling her ability to think. A low moan came from her throat, and her knees nearly folded under her.
Anticipating that response, he'd had his hands firmly planted on her hips, anchoring her to him, and tilted his head to continue his unhurried exploration of her mouth. Instead of remaining passive as she often did, she upped the ante, sliding her hands into his hair and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Unprepared for the rush of desire, threatening to shred his self-control, he broke away.
"Let's get out of here," he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat, "If we don't leave now, I can't guarantee that we'll make it to dinner."
She was fairly certain that, despite his warning, Ranger possessed enough restraint to resist the temptation of her bed; regrettably, she couldn't say the same for herself. And since it was obvious he'd put a lot of thought into the evening, she was eager to find out what he'd planned besides getting her naked.
"Okay then." Stepping back from his arms, she slipped into her sling backs and snagged her purse off the night stand. "I'm ready to go."
The delicate harmony of Spanish guitar, lamenting from the speakers inside the Turbo, tugged on Stephanie's heartstrings, and she caught herself softly tapping her fingers to the rhythm on the silk clutch in her lap.
"You like?" Reaching over, Ranger brought her hand to his mouth and placed a light kiss to the inside of her wrist, then winked and released her.
Her hands grew clammy, and she tucked them into her wrap, before looking back up at him. "Huh?"
"The music," he said with a slight smile.
"Very much." She grinned at him, her face brightening. "This is Flamenco?"
He gave her an infinitesimal nod, turning his attention back to the road as he shifted gears to accelerate up the ramp onto the interstate.
Studying his sharp profile, she decided that he didn't look as though he was in his driving zone. "We aren't having dinner in Trenton, are we?"
"No." He changed lanes, passing the slower-moving vehicles, and then added unexpectedly, "Sea Bright."
"Oh." She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, thinking. "Were you planning to stay at the shore house tonight?"
The corners of his eyes crinkled. "If that's what you want."
Blushing again, she turned away, deciding to let him interpret her silence as he might. The fiery melody took over the melancholy one, and Stephanie felt her pulse pick up with the beat, though, wasn't sure if the music alone was to blame.
"When are you leaving?" Ranger asked matter-of-factly, but his question worked better than a bucket of ice water to quell her fantasies, bringing her back to reality.
"Monday or Tuesday. I don't have tickets yet," she mumbled uncertainly, and braved a glance at him, wary of seeing anger, or worse, a blank mask on his face. "You're not mad?"
"No, I…" He checked himself, before telling her that he'd thought they'd have more time together. Springing his newfound revelation on her now that she'd made a decision to leave didn't feel right or fair, and he settled for taking her hand in his again. Running his thumb over her knuckles, just as he had when he'd told her about Bobby's departure from Trenton a week ago, he said, "I've met a lot of immortals in my lifetime. And only Lester didn't run off chasing rainbows after he turned. Not that he had much choice in the matter. He was halfway across the world on a military campaign." He smirked mirthlessly, "So, I knew you'd leave eventually. I just didn't know when."
"Then, who told you?" she asked cautiously, hoping that Joe had kept her confidence.
"Carter."
"Morgan?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "I made a stupid joke, and she decided I was serious?"
"Her conclusion was right on the mark, no?" He arched his eyebrow as though daring her to deny the truth of his statement.
"But, I don't understand…" Stephanie's voice trailed off.
"Carter has," Ranger paused, lowering the volume of the speaker system, as he searched for a fitting description. "Let's call it 'a gift'. She often knows what people need before they do."
"What is she, psychic?" Stephanie snorted.
"Her ability isn't paranormal." He contemplated the thought for a beat, before adding, "She is a healer."
"Ranger, I know Morgan is a doctor," Stephanie said impatiently, "but what does that have to do with being able to predict the future?"
"No one knows what the future holds, Babe. Not even Carter. But she interprets clues. Body language. Voice inflection. She listens for things left unsaid, so she can treat her patients," he paused, "It's what makes her so good at what she does."
Deciding to tell Stephanie the rest, he continued, "Before she became a surgeon, she was a medicine woman. Not many surgeries were performed when she started, fifteen hundred years ago."
"Holy cow!" She covered her mouth, then narrowed her eyes. "You're messing with me."
"Not at all." He shrugged, but was careful to keep his tone neutral. "Carter is Morgan le Fay."
"As in the legend of King Arthur?" Stephanie gaped. "That Morgan? The witch?"
"Babe, witches aren't real. That's stuff of fairy tales."
"Said one immortal to another," she said sarcastically.
"Touché," he sniggered.
"Speaking of fairy tales, have you ever asked Morgan how much of the legend is true?" She shot him a sideways glance and caught a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Never mind, of course you haven't."
In the silence that followed, a niggling feeling that she was missing a piece of the puzzle refused to leave Stephanie alone. Fiddling with her earring, she stared ahead through the windshield, absently taking in the myriad of houses lining Ocean Avenue on the left, and restaurants, beach clubs, and bars clustered along the boardwalk on the right.
The Turbo stopped at a traffic light, and about thirty yards up the road, she spied a gray and white awning over a building with floor to ceiling plate glass windows, draped with old-fashioned tulle. When Ranger pulled into a circular driveway between the cherry trees, wrapped in sparkling garlands of white lights, she eyed him quizzically. "Il Mulino, Ranger? Isn't that a bit much?"
"It's our first date," he said as if it explained everything, and killed the engine.
"Oh," she sighed, and then added almost to herself, "I might be underdressed."
"Babe, you look incredible." His tone was tender, and his gaze warm. "You know that, right?"
She swallowed the words of protest, for once, restraining the urge to blurt out the first thing that came to her mind, and nodded, giving him a small but grateful smile. How he always managed to tell her exactly what she needed to hear, was a phenomenon she didn't want to examine too closely, realizing that Morgan wasn't the only one, who had the talent of reading people. What if it isn't so much 'a gift', but a well-honed skill acquired along with the ability to mask one's own emotions? A sobering thought, for sure, was worth mulling over when she had more time for reflection.
Ranger handed the keys to the valet and made his way to the passenger side of the Turbo. Opening the door, he gave Stephanie a blinding grin, inordinately pleased to see her beam at him in return. She'd gotten pensive at the end of the drive, almost reserved, and that wouldn't work well with his plans for their evening. Helping her out of the car, he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her up the short walkway to the restaurant entrance. In the dimly lit anteroom, a young woman, wearing a smart black sheath, greeted them from behind the podium.
"Mañoso, party of two," Ranger said to the maître d', sliding Stephanie's wrap off her shoulders and handing it to the waiting youth from the coat check.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Mañoso, your table should be ready in a few minutes." She smiled apologetically. "Would you like to wait at the bar?"
Ranger gave the woman a perfunctory nod, before opening the door for Stephanie and following her into the dining room.
At quarter of seven in the evening, the restaurant was busy, but Ranger and Stephanie had no trouble finding two stools at the far end of the mahogany bar, which ran the entire length of the wall on the right. Two steps above the main floor, it was separated from the dining area with black wrought-iron balustrade, giving the illusion of privacy to the bar patrons.
Draping his arm over the back of her seat, he leaned in, so he didn't have to compete with Frank Sinatra for her attention, and asked, "How about a drink before dinner, Babe?"
"I'd love a Bellini," she hesitated, letting out a soft sigh, "but if I'm going to have wine with dinner, I probably shouldn't." She turned a vintage print coaster between her fingers. "You know how well I hold my liquor."
"I do," his eyes danced with mirth in the candlelight. "A better question is, do you?"
When she shot him a quizzical look, but said nothing, he brought his lips even closer, so his breath tickled her neck, and lowered his voice. "Since the change, your body can rid itself of poison, I mean, any poison, in a relatively short period of time. You can down a bottle of hard liquor and be stone cold sober within the hour." He drew back a little and smirked. "Not that I'd recommend it."
She followed her best 'Burg eye roll with a shake of her head that bordered between amused and exasperated. "Do I look like a teenager, whose parents forgot to hide the keys to the liquor cabinet?"
His booming laugh caught the bartender's attention. When the man made his way over to their side of the bar, Ranger ordered their aperitifs. Nodding with approval at their choices, the bartender moved around his domain with practiced ease, mixing, stirring, and pouring, and as he worked, he was quite willing to talk wine with Ranger, pointing out a few rare bottles, available on the wine list that evening.
While the men talked, Stephanie's mind drifted to her morning conversation with Morgan. And as the bartender set a tall flute down in front of her, she suspected she'd found the missing piece of the puzzle that had bothered her earlier.
"You know, Ranger," she began slowly, waiting for the bartender to step out of earshot. "This morning, when Morgan told me about a woman, who might know of a cure for my blackouts, she sounded as if there was no love lost between them. So, I was thinking," she fell silent and held his gaze for a beat, "if she's Morgan le Fay, then the other one wouldn't be Lady Guinevere, by any chance?"
A/N:
Il Mulino is an old New York Italian restaurant with many locations all over the country, though, there isn't one in Sea Bright, and I've taken artistic license with its look and feel. The closest NJ outpost is at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City, NJ.
I hope you've enjoyed this installment. It's been a while since I've written romance, and as I'm trying to decide whether to wrap Ranger and Stephanie's date in one or two chapters, I'd love to hear what you think.
Thank you so much for reading along and reviewing.