A/N: Flashbacks continue…their first date! Squeeee! Butterflies in my tummy! Thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for the song selection…Ella Henderson's "Yours" was on endless loop while I was writing this, along with a healthy dose of Nat King Cole's "When I Fall In Love". I'm such a sucker for these two.
January 2015
He raced home after work, showered, and just for good measure, shaved again. Carefully. When he slapped aftershave on, he wondered what it would feel like if she touched his face.
What the devil should I wear?
The restaurant was not overly formal, but it was one of the nicest in the city. But these days, it was impossible to know of any set dress code. He bemoaned the younger generation, remembering the last time he had gone to dinner at this particular place. There were people there wearing jeans. That would never do.
He pulled a pair of pressed tan trousers out of the closet. A dress shirt and a suit jacket. He hesitated, but then decided not to wear a tie. He refrained from using much product on his hair; she said she didn't mind if things were a bit more casual. For the sake of his nerves, he agreed.
He kept the top button on his shirt unbuttoned, telling himself all the while he was being vain.
As he drove into the city, he kept thinking she'd tell him he should have worn a tie. Or button his shirt up properly.
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The drive home from the office normally took fifteen minutes; she made it in ten. She opened her closet, made a face at everything she saw, then hopped in the shower. Maybe the hot water would provide inspiration. She tried not to think about him touching her. His big hands on her waist.
Everything in this closet makes me look old. Or fat. Or both.
In the end, she settled for the long black skirt, and a rather sparkly gold top. She covered it with a black leather jacket. She thought the top might be a touch too revealing for him; if even a little glimpse of her 'girls' was too much. She didn't want to scare him off on the first date. Too late now.
She wore her hair down. She was sure he wouldn't like it.
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He got to the restaurant fifteen minutes early. During the elevator ride up, he felt his palms sweating. He rubbed his fingers together, forced himself to breathe deeply. He didn't care for heights, but the view was worth it.
"Reservation?"
"Yes, Carson, for two." He felt a ridiculous sense of elation giving the hostess the details. He followed her back to the table, and approved of its location. He sat down, and couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands. On the table, on his lap. After a minute or so, he pulled out his phone and texted her.
Charles Carson to Elsie Hughes, January 9, 2015, 6:56 pm
I've got a table. See you soon.
Reluctantly, he put the phone into his pocket. He didn't want to leave it on the table; that was rude. Looking around the restaurant, there were empty tables here and there, but not many. The place was filling up fast. He could see the hostess leading a couple to a table farther back. No sooner had she reached her station at the front, when she came leading someone else back. They were almost to his table when he recognized her.
Elsie.
But she looked so…different.
He realized he was staring when the hostess left, and he quickly stood up, pulled out her chair. She seemed surprised, but smiled.
"Thank you. You look quite nice," she said, settling into her chair. She glanced to her left, and her mouth fell open.
"This view is incredible! Did you have to bribe someone to get this table? I've never seen the city from this height!"
He had not really taken it in himself. He could not take his eyes off of her.
"You look amazing."
His voice rumbled into her consciousness, breaking her away from the view. His gaze made her mouth go dry and her heart pound. She blushed, folding her hands on the table.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson."
"Charles." He had thought about it in the car. Whatever this new path was, however long it would be, he wanted a break with their professional lives. If anything, her blush deepened.
"Thank you, Charles," she whispered. It felt terribly intimate calling him by his first name. To settle her nerves, she took a sip of water.
His heartrate skyrocketed when she pronounced his first name. He took a quick sip of water to steady himself, and to change the subject. He could not spend the entire evening staring at her. He'd melt.
"No, bribery was not involved," he said, a smile hovering on his lips. "Although it did help that Alfred's cousin is a sous chef here, and he needed some legal advice a year or so ago." His smile widened. "He was very grateful for my help, and simply said if he could repay the favor…"
"So you took him up on his offer," Elsie grinned. "I see." She looked out at the view again. "I've never been here before."
"I've only been a few times. It's been several years," he said. "But I have to say the company this time is much better."
She laughed, looking down at the table. "The way you say that, you make me want to check that my hair's tidy."
"Get away with you," he murmured. "I like your hair down." She looked up, surprised.
"You do? I thought you wouldn't," she ran a few fingers through it. He swallowed, his own fingers twitching at the sight. He was glad the waiter interrupted them. She let him order a bottle of wine while she looked at the menu. When the waiter had gone, she leaned over.
"You really should not have spent that much. Your dinner alone will be ten times what we normally pay at Pedro's, never mind the wine. I'll be hard-pressed to find something in my budget."
"Let's not begrudge the friendly neighborhood bar," he said. "It's a good place that has many happy memories, at least for me. But this is a special occasion," he leaned over. Their faces were only a couple of feet apart. "I know you're an independent woman, and you like to stand on your own two feet. But I would appreciate it if you would let me pay for everything tonight. Don't worry about the cost. If you want to repay the favor later, I won't object."
She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it. Let him do this for you. His generosity made her eyes well up. To cover it, she teased him. "'Repay the favor later'? You're assuming the evening will go so well, we'll want to do this again."
"I do hope that," his eyes twinkled. "And as for tonight, it's not just our first date. We're also celebrating your birthday."
"It's on Sunday," she said, raising her eyebrows. "I'm surprised you knew."
"I'm trying to learn as much as possible about you. If we're to have a second date, that is."
The rest of the evening flew by. In many ways, it was not much different than their usual Friday routine. In other ways, it felt as though they had never spent time together. He was fascinated watching her eat. She exclaimed over everything, letting him have a bite off of her fork. She was amused by his fastidiousness, knowing the use of every utensil.
"Does it really matter which fork you use?" she laughed, dabbing at the corner of her lip. When she shifted in her chair, her breasts bounced. He forced himself to concentrate his vision north of her neck.
"Yes, it does," he protested. "Otherwise, they would just have one. You forget I used to set the tables at the fraternity."
"I thought that was something you wanted to forget," she said softly, taking another sip of wine.
"There were some good things in that experience. Attention to detail being one of them."
"You certainly have that," she watched him as he joked with the waiter. The view of his skin under his collar was enough to drive her to distraction. She bit her lip, wondering if it was the effect of the excellent wine.
"What?" he asked. She realized she was staring openly.
"I've never seen you without a tie."
"Oh," he grumbled, pulling his jacket closer over his shirt. "I knew I should have worn something more appropriate-"
"Charles, no," she said, putting her hand over his. "I like it." She swallowed. "You are quite handsome, you know."
"I hardly think my ego needed to hear that, but thank you," he whispered. He turned his hand over, and when she started to pull hers back, he laced his fingers through hers. They said nothing for a moment, eyes on their intertwined hands, as the city lights blinked below them.
"Sir? Ma'am?" They looked up as the waiter stood with another tray. Chocolate mousse, with HAPPY BIRTHDAY drizzled in raspberry across the top, sat on a white plate.
"I know it's not the actual day, but Happy Birthday, Elsie." he said. She put her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. It was almost too much. I don't deserve him. He frowned, a worried expression on his face. "Don't you like it? I know you don't like a fuss."
"I love it," she managed to say. "I can't remember a better birthday celebration. Sunday will pale in comparison, Bill and Beryl invited me over." She laughed through her hand. "I won't mention tonight."
"But you don't mind the dessert?" he persisted.
"Not at all, it's lovely." She took a bite of the mousse and closed her eyes, savoring the taste. "Mmmm. Wonderful. I just wish I could eat it all now, but I'm stuffed."
"That's all right. They can wrap it up for you." He paid the bill while the waiter took the mousse away, bringing it back in a box. They left their table reluctantly, unwilling to let the evening end. Waiting for the elevator, wearing their winter coats, he suggested a nearby coffee shop down the street. She agreed, thankful for their time to continue. They were pushed to the back of the elevator as a group of people crowded after them. They found each other's hand on the long ride down, and didn't let go until they had reached her car. She put the box inside and they headed to the coffee shop, braving the wind. She laughed as he shut the door behind them.
"You should have worn a hat! The wind played with your hair something awful," she giggled at his bemused expression.
"Go on and find a seat. I'll get the coffee." She left him in line and looked around the room, wondering if there was space for them. Then her eyes fell on two familiar faces. Her heart stuttered. I can't stop them from seeing me, but I have to stop them from seeing him. She went back to Charles, tugged on his sleeve, and explained the situation in a whisper. His eyes widened.
"Do whatever you have to," he said. "I'll get the drinks. Meet me at the fountain in the park. It's lit up there, we can walk around for a few minutes." She nodded and glanced at the would-be tellers of their secret. Fortunately, their attention was directed at each other. She approached the corner table slowly.
"Good evening, gentlemen."
They both started, obviously forgetting anyone else was in the room.
"Mrs. Hughes? I didn't expect to see you here," Thomas began, while Jimmy straightened up in his chair.
"You look very nice. Were you meeting someone?" He leaned on his elbow.
"Yes, but he's left, and I'm on my way home now," she said smoothly as Charles walked by on the other side of the window.
"Who did you meet?" Thomas asked. Open curiosity was evident in both of their faces. "It must have been someone special, you don't get dressed up like that for just anyone."
"I think you know I'm not answering that question, Mr. Barrow," she smiled.
"Can't you give us a clue? Come on," Jimmy begged. "We wouldn't tell." He raised an eyebrow, turned on the charm.
Not likely. "Oh you know me, a woman of mystery if there ever was one," she bit back a laugh as the two shared an exasperated glance. "Have a good weekend." She left, making sure they didn't follow. She found Charles a block away under a streetlight.
"Thanks for the coffee. Sorry about that," she said as they looked at the fountain.
"It's not your fault. It's a big city, but I shouldn't have assumed we wouldn't see anyone we knew," he said, sipping his drink.
"Let's walk. It's too cold to stand still," she suggested. They circled around the fountain as its colors changed. She sighed, letting the warmth of the hot mocha seep into her bones. He was quiet, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She caught him looking. He smiled back and finished his coffee, tossing his cup into a trash can. She finished and did likewise. They continued circling the fountain.
"I've had a very good time tonight," he said, feeling the wind rake through his hair. "I hope you have as well."
"Yes, very much so," she agreed. "Thank you very much for dinner." She slipped her hand into his, glad of its warmth. She knew she should put on gloves, but she didn't want to. He stopped, keeping hold of her hand.
"So would you like to do this again? Dinner? I can't promise the same restaurant every week, but there are plenty of good ones around here."
"My, you are keen," she teased. "We're still on our first date, and you're already thinking about the second."
"I am thinking about you, Elsie," he whispered. The way he said her name went straight to her core.
He did not want to wait anymore. He reached up and held the side of her face in his hand. The warmth of his body drew her closer. She turned her face slightly, more into his hand. His thumb caressed her lower lip. He bent over and pressed his lips to hers. She slid a hand under the lapel of his winter coat, feeling the jacket beneath, then his shirt. When she touched his bare skin, under his chin, he let out a soft moan, breaking their kiss. They stood still for a moment, the changing colors reflecting around them. Their breaths billowed, visible in the night air. His eyes were dark.
He slid his hand from her face down to her waist. She pulled him closer by the lapels, her hands on his chest. She tasted coffee and wine on his soft lips. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could feel it, even with the layers of clothes between them. She gasped as he opened his mouth over hers. She ran her hand behind his neck, holding him in place.
Everything was spinning. He felt the curve of her waist beneath her coat, and explored her back with his hands. She reached higher, finding the soft tissue of his ear, and ran her fingers down his jawline. Eventually, they broke apart, but not before he gifted her one last kiss, on her forehead. He kept his arms around her as she swayed on the spot, trying to regain her balance. They laughed.
"Yes," she said, her voice shaky. "I think we should go on another date." She was not sure how she would last before the next one. Involuntarily, she shivered.
"I'm sorry, it's terribly cold out here," he said, leading her by the hand back down the street to the parking garage. They stood reluctantly beside her car.
"I don't want to go, but I must," she heard herself say. He gave her a gentle kiss, then lifted her hand and kissed it as well. Tremors that had nothing to do with the cold ran through her body. She knew on the surface that things would not go any farther, but she had never felt so intoxicated. She would have rather kissed him all night than gone to bed with any other man.
"Drive safely home," he said. He held her door open as she got in. Closing it after her, he stood out of the way as she pulled away. He made it to his car and sat for a few minutes while it warmed up.
He didn't know what had come over him, but he regretted nothing. And the way she felt in his arms, her hands searching for him, told him what he wanted to know. He would not press her, would never presume too much, refused to push too far.
But she wanted him, that much was certain. He knew he wanted her, all of her. But the thought of intimacy scared him. It had been years, for him. Decades.
One thing was for sure. It may have taken him twenty-five years to kiss her, but he would not wait that long to do anything more.