Love Left Behind

I had an hour to get ready so I took a leisurely shower. As I let the warm water run over my body, I couldn't help but remember Jackson's hands on me, caressing me in places I had never thought of as erotic. His soft kiss on the back of my knee had sent chills running through my body. I was taut with the anticipation of feeling his lips on me again.

I turned off the water and got out of the shower before my wayward thoughts made me late. I had texted Jackson earlier today, not knowing how I should dress for dinner. He had replied to dress casually although he wouldn't tell me where we were going. So I slipped on a pair of skintight dark jeans that I knew did wonders for my ass, pairing it with a black halter top and black high heels.

I took time with my makeup instead of the usual swipe of mascara and lipstick I applied most mornings. Smoky eyes and dark red lips completed the look and I brushed my hair until it was shiny and smooth. I studied myself in the mirror, turning my head from one side to the other.

Not bad, I thought. With my short stature and curvy figure I wouldn't be gracing any runways, but I was satisfied that I looked my best.

I checked the clock in the living room since I didn't want to wear a watch with my outfit and saw that it was six-fifteen. I sat down on the couch, nervously tapping my foot. I tried flipping through a magazine, but I just ended up staring at the pages unseeingly. I had given up on the magazine and was going to flick on the television when I heard the front door buzzer. I ran over and pressed the button to speak.

"Hello?"

"It's Jackson."

"Come on up," I replied as I pressed the button to unlock the front door. My stomach was twisting in knots, anticipation and nerves jostling together.

I opened the apartment door when I heard Jackson bounding up the steps. My insides warmed when I caught sight of him. A part of me had wondered if I had imagined how gorgeous Jackson was. I now realized that my imagination hadn't done him justice.

He was wearing dark jeans and a grey button-down shirt that was untucked. Even though his clothes weren't form fitting, you could clearly see his defined muscles underneath. His dark hair was tousled and his green eyes looked happy to see me. His wide smile showed off his dimples and I wondered if I would ever get used to them. They were so boyishly charming in his decidedly masculine face.

"Hi," Jackson said, leaning down to brush my lips with his. He walked into the apartment, seemingly familiar with his surroundings. I reminded myself that he must have been in this apartment many times since he was friends with Claire.

Jackson grabbed my hand, twirling me around. "You look good enough to eat."

I laughed at his lascivious look. "Thanks. You look nice too."

"We've gotta get out of here before I'm tempted to forget about dinner," he said with a wink. "Ready to go?"

"Yup, let me just get my purse." I grabbed my black clutch that I had laid on the breakfast table as well as my keys. When we got to the sidewalk in front of my building, Jackson held up a hand to hail a cab.

"We're not walking?"

"It's not too far away but not close enough to walk." Jackson glanced down at my feet. "Especially with those shoes."

"Hey, these are comfortable," I said defensively.

Jackson quirked his mouth. "I'm not complaining. My imagination is already in overdrive with what I want to do to you while you wear nothing but those heels."

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. Jackson just grinned, those dimples peeking out at me again.

Fortunately, a cab stopped in front of us, saving me from having to respond.

"20th between Broadway and Park," Jackson told the cab driver after we had climbed into the backseat.

"Now are you going to tell me where we're going to dinner?"

"Gramercy Tavern. It's one of my favorite restaurants."

"Wait a second," I said horrified. "Isn't that a fancy restaurant? I'm not dressed for a nice restaurant! You said casual!"

"Don't worry, it's pretty casual. You look perfect."

I frowned but I was soon distracted by Jackson's hand holding mine, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the skin between my thumb and forefinger. An area I had never thought of as being sensitized enough to give me chills from his touch.

By the time we pulled up in front of the restaurant I had forgotten all about dress codes, but Jackson was right. When we walked inside the restaurant, there were people dressed formally but I saw plenty of others dressed like us.

"Good evening, Mr. Reynard," the maitre d' said as we approached. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Marcus. I have a reservation for two at seven o'clock."

"Of course." The maitre d' grabbed two menus and guided us to our table. I followed, nonplussed. Jackson must come here a lot for him to be on a first name basis with the staff.

I swallowed a gasp when I saw the menu. The only thing offered was a prix fixe menu and it was much more than I was used to spending for dinner.

I peeked over the menu at Jackson, but he was just nonchalantly looking at his own. He looked up and caught me staring at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. This is just a lot of food," I lied. "Is it a good idea to eat all of this before your show?"

Jackson smiled. "I could eat a ten course dinner and still be fine for the show. I won't have more than one drink though. I doubt the audience wants to see me slurring through my lines."

I nodded and looked back at the menu. I suppose if Jackson was okay with paying these prices for the food, then I was okay with eating it.

Our waiter came over, filling our glasses with water. Jackson looked over at me.

"What do you want to drink?"

"I'll take a vodka tonic."

Jackson looked up at the waiter. "She'll have a vodka tonic. Belvedere. I'll have the 18 year Macallan with a splash of water."

"You'll have the what?" I asked after the waiter had walked away.

"It's just a brand of scotch."

I nodded as if I went to nice restaurants every day where the maitre d' knew you by first name and your date ordered drinks that only fifty-year-old men drank.

"You order drinks like you're an actual adult."

Jackson grinned. "I am an actual adult. So are you."

I laughed. "I know. I just still feel like a kid sometimes."

"Why do you say that?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe because I'm starting over again in a new city. Back in D.C., it was the opposite. I used to feel ten years older than I actually was. I think it was because my life was mapped out before me and I could see exactly what would happen in the next twenty years. Now I'm not sure what's going to happen in the next twenty minutes."