“Hey,” Corinne said from behind him, and he turned. “This room…this entire apartment. It’s amazing. I mean, I guess I didn’t expect anything less. But wow, Reese. It’s gorgeous.”
“Not much like the old farmhouse. Or that shitty apartment on Queen Street,” he added.
“I loved that apartment. It had character. It was cozy.” Corinne took one of the glasses and sipped it as she went around the bed to look out the windows. “This is beautiful though.”
He joined her, looking out over the water. “Are you hungry? I made reservations for dinner.”
“You’ve thought of everything. I’d like to change first, if we’re going to someplace fancy.” She looked down at her work clothes. “My bag…?”
“I’m sure it’s been delivered to the kitchen. I’ll bring it.”
One of the things he’d always admired about Corinne was how little time it took her to get ready. She’d changed her clothes, done something different with her hair and makeup, in under twenty minutes. She came out of the bathroom looking so good he had to take a step back with a low wolf whistle.
“Damn,” Reese said.
She dimpled, twirling on stiletto heels to show off the sleek red dress that hugged her every curve. She stopped, hugging herself. “I can’t tell you the last time I dressed up and went out to someplace nice without kids, without it being work related.”
“You deserve to be taken out, Corinne.”
She crossed to him, the high heels putting her nearly at eye level. “Thank you, puppy. You make me feel special.”
“You are special.” He brushed a lock of curling dark hair off her shoulder.
She hugged him. “Thank you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Reese had taken her a Creole place in Center City Philadelphia, a tiny restaurant tucked back along a cobblestoned street very close to the Betsy Ross House. They’d indulged in Chicken Bonne Femme, cocktails, steaming rolls glistening with butter. A bourbon bread pudding to die for. She was going to need a week to recover from this one meal.
Better than all of that was the way he’d doted on her entire time. Old school chivalry was far from dead, at least tonight. He held open doors, pulled out her chair. He ordered for them both, though he made sure to first ask her what she wanted this time.
“Something funny?” he asked when he caught her shaking her head.
“You. When you came back to Lancaster, you were such a pain. I never would’ve guessed we’d end up here.”
“I had a chip on my shoulder,” Reese admitted. “I’m trying to make up for that. For everything, I guess, that I didn’t do the first time around.”
“Things were different then,” she said, meaning that both of them had been young. Broke. Trying to make their lives work out the best they could. She didn’t blame him then for not being able to treat her to a three hundred dollar dinner. The truth was, he didn’t need to be able to do that now.
“I want them to be different, now.”
And of course they were. After dinner, he took her to a club with a waiting line outside so long it stretched around the block, but the two of them went to the front and were waved inside without so much as a glance at their driver’s licenses. They were shown to a VIP section cordoned off with red velvet rope, and a table set with a chilling bottle of champagne and two flutes.
“I called ahead while you were in the bathroom,” Reese said. “You want a drink? Or should we dance?”
“Oh my God…I haven’t been dancing in forever!” Giddy at the thought of it, Corinne looked toward the dance floor and the gyrating crowd. She was definitely not wearing dancing shoes. But when had that ever mattered?
Reese grinned. “Me neither.”
She eyed him, moving closer so she wouldn’t have to shout over the thumping bass beat. “I remember when you’d go dancing every weekend. You’d come into the diner wearing that black eyeliner, your hair all spiked. Dressed all in black. Once you wore a fishnet shirt…”
“Gah, don’t remind me!” Reese cried. “I was a dumb emo kid.”
“You were beautiful,” she countered. “You still are.”
For a moment they stared at each other, smiling but saying nothing. Reese took both her hands. “C’mon. Let’s dance.”
And they did. Stupid shoes be damned, Corinne discovered she had not forgotten what it was like to shake her groove thang. Reese, she saw, had not lost any of his former talent, either. Together, they bumped and ground until they were covered in sweat.
He tasted like salt when he kissed her. His cock, semihard, pressed her belly when he pulled her close. She lost herself in the moment, drunk not on the dinner cocktails or the bottle of expensive bubbly, but on him.
“Take me home,” she cried into his ear, her arms slung around his neck.
Reese pulled away to look into her face. “Yeah? You’re not having fun?”