A little less than two hours later, she stood before her vanity mirror. Trudy had swept up her brown hair and piled it in curls, held by a diamond barrette. Ringlets cascaded down her back in elegant strands. The red earrings dangled from her exposed earlobes, and the red necklace gave the illusion of an elongated neck like a swan. The red dress sat off the shoulder and scooped low enough to hint at sexuality without exposing cleavage. The gown clung to her curves, accentuating her small breasts and hips to look like an hourglass figure. Starting at her lower hips, the skirt and overlapping chiffon glided down to her toes where silver shoes peeked out.
For not wearing makeup, Trudy was very good at applying it. Red lipstick accentuated her mouth. Her eyes were painted smokey black, lending an exotic almond shape and bringing out the hazel irises.
"I don't look like me," she said quietly with a frown, her heart beating fast.
Trudy's reflection beamed at her in the mirror. "You look like how he sees you, don'tcha know," she replied softly.
The crease of worry left her brow, and she turned around to Trudy. "Thank you." She stepped forward to hug her.
Trudy stepped back. "No, you aren't wrinkling my masterpiece. Go make him fall in love," she smiled, her eyes so warm. She held out the silver purse. "Here's makeup for touching up, tissues, and your phone." Then she blinked back tears. "Go get your prince, Cinderella."
She flushed and smiled, taking the clutch. "Thank you," she whispered. Taking a step into the hall, her heart beat fast. Tonight would change everything with him, for better or for worse. She slowly walked down the hall with butterflies in her stomach and hesitation in each step. What if things didn't go well? He shouldn't meet her parents yet. A first date and meeting them was too much pressure. Everything would fall apart. Her knees trembled. If she lost him, her heart would shatter. No one had ever moved her so deeply. Her chest hurt with each pound of her heartbeat. She reached the top of the stairs and looked over the balcony to the left.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs looking down and adjusting the cuffs of his tuxedo. The custom fit and black accentuated his trim waist and broad shoulders. Shoulders that didn't need any padding.
She took a deep breath and descended. This wasn't a good idea. What if he and her parents didn't get along? What if things were awkward on the date? She wore too much makeup. The dress was probably indecently tight. This was a mistake. When she reached the landing, her breathing was choppy. She couldn't make her feet go down more stairs to him.
He looked up and stilled. His eye softened. The unmistakable look of love reached right to her soul and steadied the frantic beating of her heart. He took a step and slowly climbed toward her, not breaking the gaze. She started down the stairs toward him, her knees growing stronger. When she met him in the middle, he remained two steps below and gazed up at her in adoration. No words needed to be spoken, and yet he said everything.
He extended a hand. She set her hand in his, ready to descend with him. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the back of her knuckles. Her heart stumbled and melted. "Stunning," he whispered, his eye so gentle.
A blush crept up her face, and she dropped her eyes to his chest. She opened her mouth to say he looked handsome, but he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips over hers. When he pulled back, he held a short-stemmed red rosebud and tucked it in her hair near the barrette. "I saw this in the arboretum today, growing when the other roses struggle in winter. It struck me as so beautiful and strong." Then he looked at her. "It reminded me of you," he said, his voice husky.
Her knees weakened.
He offered his arm. She slipped her hand through and gazed at him, unable to remember how to speak.
He led her down and stopped at the door. Pete stood at the ready in a formal black coat and held two dress coats, smiling at her. Jason held up a long black dress coat and helped her in. She smiled. He'd remembered about the furs. Then his hands brushed over the back of her neck and thoughtfully lifted her curls so they wouldn't be crushed as he pulled up her coat. Then he pulled on his own coat.
Pete held the door. She looked over her shoulder up the stairs and saw Trudy smiling. She lifted her hand and smiled.
Jason's eye followed, and he smiled when he saw Trudy. Then he set a hand on her lower back and guided her out to the car. He opened the door for her and helped sweep her dress inside. Then he closed the door and walked around to get in the back beside her.
When he sat, Pete started the car and glanced in the rearview mirror. "The airport, Dr. Port?"
"Yes, please." The car started forward.
She couldn't come up with a single thing to say or do besides blush.
"Is everything alright?" he asked and slipped his hand into hers in her lap.
Biting her lip, she nodded. "You look handsome," she said, her voice softer than intended.
He looked at her for a moment, as if unsure if he had heard her correctly. Then he slowly smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart."
Had no one said it since the accident? She flushed and looked out the window when his gaze grew too intense. "Does Pete drive you everywhere?" she asked softly. Then she looked at him.
With a slow nod, he said, "I have too much trouble with depth perception on the winding mountain roads. Normal town roads when miscalculation doesn't mean going off a cliff are easier."
Her brow furrowed with regret for him.
His hand tightened in hers, and he tensed as he glanced out her window.
She looked at him in question.
"That is where we found you."
She looked to see a small tree bashed in and barely staying upright over the edge of a steep cliff. It shouldn't have held the weight of a car. A shiver ran down her spine.
They road just a few more minutes in companionable silence.
A white jet sat out in a small airport runway. Pete pulled up the car and got out as Jason unbuckled. Pete opened Jason's door, and Jason walked around to open hers. Then he offered his arm and lead her to the plane. "Have you ever flown?"
"Not besides the chopper."
He helped her up the steps. It was a luxury jet, with leather seats, reclining chairs, a tiny kitchen, and several other amenities. He led her to the first pair of seats and helped her sit.
An attractive woman about her own age wearing a navy blue dress suit came out from the cockpit. "Welcome, Ms. Hoplin and Dr. Port. I'm Jessica, and I'll be your attendant," the woman said to her. "May I offer you champaign or-"
"Ms. Wilson," Jason interrupted and shook his head. "We won't need your services this evening, thank you."
"Yes, sir." She disappeared back into the cockpit.
She looked at Jason expectantly.
"A pilot and attendant are required to be contracted from this airport in exchange for using the landing strip," he explained. "When I travel on business, I request Ms. Wilson because she is very good about making sure my laptop is charged and everything when I need. I've also had trouble with attendants overlooking the mask."
She nodded and looked out the window.
"Purely professional, I assure you."
Her eyes returned to him. "I didn't doubt it was," she frowned.
He nodded.
He seemed to be waiting for the conversation to extend. "I'm not jealous." She had to bite back a smile.
"Good." He looked out the window but seemed slightly disappointed.
"Do you want me to be jealous?"
He looked at her. "No. Well...maybe a tad."
She laughed, and his shoulders relaxed. "Alright, for a split instant I did wonder if there was a history," she said.
He failed miserably at hiding a smile. "It's a good sign for a girlfriend to care enough to be a little jealous sometimes," he winked. "I hate all of your ex-boyfriends by default, by the way." He waved a hand in dismissal like they weren't worth his time. The plane ascended, the roaring of the engines preventing any conversation for a few seconds.
"I only have one ex."
"Whom I would like to smash his face," he growled.
She didn't want to discuss him tonight. Cocking her head, she searched his face. "Am I your girlfriend?"
He looked directly at her. "I'd like you to be."
She blushed. He certainly didn't seem to lack any confidence this evening. And it was sexy in a way that made her proud he was finding himself again. Soft romantic music began playing overhead.
The lights of cities glittered like fireflies below. She leaned over in her seat to look out her window. "It's so beautiful," she whispered in awe. Something brushed her knee.
Jason knelt at her feet and pointed out the window. "That is likely Denver, and that cluster is..."
His words faded out as she watched his face. He practically glowed with happiness. It was sad that it could be counted on one hand how many times she'd witnessed him like this. He looked at her and stopped. "Is everything alright?"
Reaching down, she stroked his cheek. "You look so happy."
He smiled. "I'm have the world's most beautiful woman tonight. Why shouldn't I be?" His voice was husky and intimate. When she flushed, he changed the topic. "Tell me about your childhood." He took her hand.
"There's not all that much to say. Mom was a teacher and stayed home after I was born. Dad has a classified job I'm not supposed to talk about, but he's not a field agent or anything like that."
He cracked a smile. "Ah. Hence the FBI contacts."
She smiled. "Mom had complications after I was born, so I'm the only child. Dad provided, and I grew up in the middle class. I went to Catholic school and attended church on Sundays. I caused my share of trouble but wasn't wild. I never broke a bone or needed stitches..." She shrugged.
He frowned. "If you want to be attending church, you can use Stevens whenever you wish."
A shy smile crept up. "I sorta did on Sunday."
He nodded. "It's your home, so you're free to do what you like."
"Do you go to church?"
"I used to. There are stares, and the children seem afraid." He shrugged. "I usually go sit on Monday mornings when it's quiet. The priest leaves it open for me until ten o'clock."
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "May I go with you sometime?"
He blinked but nodded.
"What about your childhood?"
He sighed and stared out the window. "My father was a nonabusive alcoholic who died from liver failure when I was twelve. He couldn't hold down a job, so I grew up in a trailer home."
She had to force a sterile expression.
"My mother wasn't very educated and worked three jobs to make ends meet, so I got in a lot of trouble being on my own." He suddenly looked so embarrassed. "I got messed up with some kids and got arrested at seventeen as an accomplice for grand auto theft."
She did a double take. Dr. Perfect was an ex con?
"Thankfully the judge didn't charge me as an adult, so I only spent a year in juvenile hall and got my record wiped. When I got out, my mother was terrified I'd be a convict, so she shoved me in the army. I was so pis-" He glanced at her. "Er, upset that I even mouthed off to the boot camp sergant." He shook his head. "You don't do that to a superior, much less in boot camp, unless you have a death wish. He saw potential in me and pushed me harder than the other messed up kids." He sighed from the depths of his soul. "I still had a tough edge. They try to break you in boot camp, especially the punks like me. Then they teach you respect and morals. I was stubborn as hell and wouldn't break. I think I passed boot camp on sheer bullheadedness because I broke every record to spite the sergant. He recommended me to the SEALS." He started to get up. "My apologies, I'm rambling."
"No." She caught his arm. "You never talk about yourself. What happened after you joined?"
He returned to his seat. "One of the candidates was ten years older and ended up being my roommate. Our first night, I mouthed off to the poor soul and got socked in the mouth. We didn't dare tell anyone because we would've both been kicked out. He wanted to be a SEAL; I wanted to spite everyone who said I wouldn't be better than my father. By morning, we tolerated each other. Within three days, he was like the big brother I desperately needed. I think he's what straightened me out more than anything." He smoothed a hand down the front of his coat. "When we got out, we went our separate ways with our assignments, but we kept in touch sporatically." He smiled to himself. "We ended up in the same class in med school a could years later and ended up being roommates again. I suppose you could say he was a bit like a dad. He used to come home with me on breaks because his parents were always traveling to some exotic location, but he never said a word about my home being a dumpy old trailer. Once we got out of med school, we saved up and found my mom this incredibly gaudy house far too big for one person." He laughed to himself. "We thought pink siding and blue shutters were perfect for a woman. We bought it for her. When she saw it, she said it was the ugliest thing that rivaled dog shit, excuse the expression." He smiled at her.
She smothered a laugh.
"My mother was not very articulate. But she said she loved it because her boys had bought it, and it was all hers. It was the first thing more expensive than a dress that had ever been hers. She only had it a handful of years before passing. Now I'm here." He shrugged.
"Do you still talk to him?"
He slowly shook his head and looked away out his window. "He died a few years ago too," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry," she said. But he seemed to close the door, as if at his limit of sharing for the time being. Everyone who had ever been something to him had died. He looked so alone that she got up and sat in his lap.
Looking at her, he blinked and then smiled. "You're a physical person, aren't you?"
She brushed a kiss over his lips. "You've never opened up like that. What on earth did that therapist do that's made you do a one-eighty in a week?" she smiled.
He seemed to consider his words carefully and looked her in the eye, but he kept his hands on the armrests. "She pointed out that someone as warm as you wouldn't survive my coldness of self-preservation, that I'd lose you," he said quietly. Grief reflected in his eye. "She suggested that I tell you something personal each time we have an interaction." He looked a bit embarrassed but didn't look away. "She said to trust your lead, and that you would light up each time I open up. She's right." His brow furrowed. "It draws you closer for some reason."
She ran her hand over the unburned side of his neck. "Because women like a big burly man who has a soft underbelly."
He laughed. "That is an ironic contradiction."
A very slow romance song played quietly in the background. "Is it bad if I tell you something naughty?" She shyly bit her lip.
His expression froze. "Emma, if you ask a man that and he denies, there's something insanely wrong with him."
She laughed and then looked up at him from beneath her lashes, running her finger down the side of his face. "You're so strong and just a hint arrogant with the world. It's so sexy to be the one to see the soft side of you." Then she leaned in and lightly flicked her tongue over his earlobe. She whispered, with tenderness swelling in her chest, "I want you to push me down and make love to me in your bed." Before he could respond, she got up and held out her hand.
His eye was slightly dilated with desire, but he took her hand with a look of curiosity.
She took a couple steps away and felt him stand. Shrugging off her coat, she dropped it in her chair. Then she turned to him with her heart on her sleeve, and backed up to the back of the plane where there was some space.
He followed, his brow furrowed slightly.
This feeling of needing him close danced and swelled with the music. She slowly pulled him closer until they stood toe to toe. Then her arm wrapped around his shoulder and she held his hand in hers against his heart. Her head rested against his chest, and she closed her eyes as she started swaying with the music.
He drew a shakey breath and his hand tightened in hers, as if she'd just shattered his damaged heart and put it back together to be whole again for the fist time. His arm held her close as he slowly started a gentle dance with her.
The chill in the winter air nipped at her bare arms and shoulders, but there was something about the music or dancing or maybe the way he held her that was so magical it would break the spell to let go of him. He swayed them gently, a perfect rhythm to melt a heart. Trudy had said to make him fall in love tonight, but he was sweeping her away so effortlessly that she didn't want to fight it.
He pulled away for a moment and removed his coat to drape it over her shoulders. His scent and warmth wrapped around her in the oversized jacket. It nearly fell off her small shoulders and the knee-length hem almost brushed her ankles. He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her hands and cheek on his chest, cocooned in the heat of his coat. His cheek rested against her hair. He softly hummed to the music, his voice vibrating deep and low in his chest. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed, never having heard such a beautiful sound.
The love and adoration for him were so overwhelming. Never had she wanted anything more than to hear the words that weren't ready to be said. He'd as much as admitted earlier that he was beginning to fall in love. For now. it was enough.