Hunter's Heart (5 page)

When the hearing ended, she chatted with her supervisor for an appropriate amount of time then took the Metro to the Smithsonian Art Museum. She visited the Thomas Moran landscapes she loved so much then went shopping.

Her closet held business suits and casual clothes, nothing appropriate for dinner with Hunter. She found a boutique filled with the style of dresses she’d seen other women wearing—and bought two. Added earrings and bracelets on a whim.

Next was dinner. Washington was a treasure trove of tiny ethnic restaurants. She only had to get off at a Metro stop of her choosing, walk a block or two and find a street lined with umbrella-shaded tables and chairs. In a tiny Armenian restaurant, she ordered lamb kabobs with tandoori bread, rice and veggies for dinner and several things to take home. Music blaring, she drove home giddy with excitement.

Saturday she slept in and woke to a text from Hunter saying he’d pick her up at 7:00. She decided on the blue-and-yellow print dress because it made her eyes look bluer.
Wow
. That was a first—picking something to wear for that reason.

The dress also had a modest neckline and she wouldn’t be showing anything in case she wanted to lean. Her face heated with the memory of Hunter telling her she was showing too much.

The wedge sandals she liked were good. She was set.

She took care with her makeup. Her hair?
Pfft.
She and her hair had an arrangement. It did what it wanted and she let it.

She slipped on the hoop earrings and bracelet and was ready by 6:30,
and nervous
. The nervous part was irritating. Normally she made men nervous, not the other way around. Maybe a better word was
apprehensive.
She checked her makeup
again
. No….

Paranoid was a better word.

This
was
crazy.
She had a flipping IQ of 155, and couldn’t make sense of her feelings. That wasn’t true either.

She stormed back into the living room and dropped onto the sofa. She knew exactly what her feelings were—hammering, stone-cold fear. If she continued to see Hunter—and she wanted that—it would eventually come to an intimate relationship. She wanted that. But making love…. Sex. Fucking.
Hell
, she didn’t even know what to call it, much less do it—was an unknown. Men were an unknown. There was only so much you could learn from books and porn.

She wanted to enjoy sex. The few times she’d been with a man the sex had been considerably less than satisfying. Not one of them had given a damn about what she wanted, only what she could do for them. Which, now she thought of it, was like porn. It had been a year and a half since she’d been with a guy. Unless she counted Mr. Buzzy, her vibrator. Sad to think Mr. Buzzy was not only her best, but her only lover. But Mr. B didn’t mind her lack of sexperience or mind her saying Hunter’s name.

How would a man like Hunter react to her obvious lack of sexperience? It didn’t make any difference. Even if they made it past the sex thing, a serious relationship was out of the question. She closed her eyes and pressed a sofa pillow to her stomach in an attempt to ease the sick feeling creeping its way through. She was ready to call and cancel when the doorbell chimed.

For a moment, she considered not answering. The chimes sounded again.
What the hell?
Why not enjoy the “right now” and ignore the silent promise of a doomed future? She opened the door.

There he was, drop-dead gorgeous, and stealing her breath. “Hel...lo,” he said in that deep voice.

“Hello, I’m ready,” she said.
And out-of-my-mind nervous
.

“I can see that.” He stepped in and removed his glasses. His gaze started at her sandals and wandered up. When it reached her face, he gave her a full on, beard-splitting smile. “You look absolutely fantastic.” And just like that, all her indecision vanished.

“Thank you.” Dear goodness, so did he. A silky black T-shirt that had her wanting to reach out and touch, and black dress pants. The dark color made his hair and beard seem lighter. His hazel eyes more green than brown. “Do you want a drink before we leave?”

He twisted his left wrist to check his watch. “I’ll take a rain check. Reservation is for 7:30.” She found it curious he wore the face of his watch on the inside of his wrist, a SEAL thing, maybe.

“Okay.” She grabbed her things, set the alarm and they left. Amazingly, so did the sick feeling.

Johnny’s restaurant was small and charming. A waiter, wearing a long, old-fashioned white apron, tied high on his chest, rushed to them, greeting Hunter like an old friend.

Her suspicions flared. More like her insecurity raised its ugly head as she wondered how many women he’d brought here.
Well, fuck them. He was here with her now.

“Celia, this is Vic. The best waiter in town.” So he did come here often. The gregarious waiter gushed over Hunter a moment then guided them to a table in an alcove.

“What would you like to drink, Miss Celia?” the solicitous man asked.

“The bartender here makes a killer Campari cocktail,” Hunter said.

“I’ve never had that. What is it?”

“It’s a liqueur mixed with soda water and citrus.”

“Why not?” she said.

“Make it two,” Hunter said and Vic scurried away.

“This is lovely,” she said, unable to suppress a smile. Before this, her most glamorous dinner date had been to a chain restaurant serving all-you-can-eat pasta. “Do you come here often?” She winced at using the tired pick up line.

“I do.” He leaned to her, one eyebrow raised. “Most often I’m alone. This is nice for me.”

She avoided his gaze and looked around the room to see Vic returning, tray in hand. He carefully arranged their drinks then stood by.

“Vic’s waiting for you to taste it,” Hunter said.

“Oh.” She lifted the glass to her lips cautiously and was pleasantly surprised. “It’s very good.” Vic gave her a wide smile and bowed slightly. She almost expected him to clap his hands. He left menus printed on half sheets of heavy paper then drifted away without a word.

“The menus are small,” Hunter said as she enjoyed the liqueur and surveyed the room’s simple décor. Worn but comfortable chairs, tables with starched white tablecloths, each with a single candle.

“There are a few staples but most things are what the cook found at the market today or what he feels like cooking.” Whatever he was cooking, the tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen had her mouth watering.

Celia caught sight of a stunning, dark-haired woman striding their way. From the way she looked at Hunter, and her smile, she knew him. Hunter turned to see what held her attention, saw the woman and pushed to his feet with a smile as wide as the woman’s.

“Santino.” She held out her arms. He did the same and they fell into an embrace. “Let me look at you.” She leaned back and pinched his cheek. “You look good.”

“I always do,” he said. The woman gave him a playful smack on the arm.

Celia didn’t like the cozy way she was touching
Santino
. An unfamiliar feeling moved through her.

A tall, well-built man clutching large take home bags in each hand, joined them. Her date, Celia presumed.
Hmmm.
Was this an old lover, new lover confrontation? Could get interesting. Hunter released the woman and greeted the man in a bro hug complete with backslapping. “Good to see you man.”

Celia was utterly baffled.

Hunter turned, grinning ear to ear. “Celia, this is Giovanna and Ed Considine. My beautiful
older
sister and brother-in-law.”

Sister?
Celia regained her wits. “Nice to meet you,” she finally managed.

“Join us.” Hunter was already pulling out the empty chair.

“Can’t. We’ve eaten and it was work,” Giovanna said. Her husband held up the bags like trophies. “We want to be back in DC tonight and I don’t want to draw attention.”

Work? Draw attention?
What on earth were they talking about?

“I’ll get the car,” Ed said. “Nice to meet you Celia. Hope we get to see you soon.” He shifted the bags to one hand and the men shook. “The kids miss you man. Come around,” he said and left.

“You come here a lot?” Giovanna asked Hunter.

“Maybe once a month. The food is good, consistent, and they have a decent wine list. No complaints about service.”

“I liked the food. Good to know about the consistency.” She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Ed’s right. Come and see your family.” She turned to Celia. “Very nice to meet you.” And she was gone before Celia could respond. She noted wryly, there was no cordial invitation for her to visit.

The moment Hunter settled in his chair Vic materialized with a bottle of wine for him to taste and approve. Hunter nodded. Vic poured the wine and discreetly left.

“Your sister is beautiful. They make a handsome couple,” was all she could think to say while her mind worked at visualizing him in a family scene with the couple and their children.

“Yeah. They’re good.” He smiled.

“I know I’m butting in here but, why don’t you see them more often? It seemed to me they genuinely want you to visit.”

His expression darkened. “What I do. It’s hard on them.” He sipped the dark liquid. “They worry. I don’t like that. I give them as little to worry about as possible. We do talk every week.”

“Then why
do
you do
it
?”

He grimaced and she immediately regretted asking the question. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” She mentally put the topic of his job into the do not talk about column unless he brought it up.

“It’s okay. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” She sensed he was choosing words carefully. “In fact, it was Gia who told me about the SEALs documentary. Her class was doing reports on government groups and a kid did one on Special Forces. She thought the SEALs would be good for me because I loved the water. By the time I was walking, I was swimming. Gia was always checking my toes to see if I had webs.” His face lit with the telling. “Anyway,” He rubbed his chin and gave her a rueful smile. “She doesn’t have the same opinion now.”

“Your sister said she was here for work. What does she do?” she said in an attempt to change the subject.

“Gia’s a food critic for a couple of magazines and DC papers.”

Gia?
It sunk in. “Your sister is
the
Gia
?” She twisted in her chair to see if the couple was still there but the entrance wasn’t visible from where she sat.

“You know who she is?”

“Of course. I go to DC frequently and don’t eat at the same place twice. I read her reviews so I know where to go. No wonder she didn’t want to be recognized. The staff would have hovered over her. I’ve never met anyone famous before. Well, not anyone I could say I’d met. I’m impressed she asked your opinion of the food. I’d love to talk to her,” she said then stopped short. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling.” She also didn’t want to seem like she was fishing for another date.

The corner of Hunter’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll tell Gia you’re a fan. She’ll get a kick out of that. She torments herself about having a job that’s unimportant. Thinks she should be out doing something to save the world. I tell her that’s what I’m here for.” He lifted the wine glass, swirled the liquid then sniffed the contents before putting it to his lips to drink. “Why don’t you eat at the same place twice?” he asked putting the glass on the table.

“What?” She’d heard him perfectly fine.
Damn it
. Hunter had an annoying ability to loosen her tongue. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“You said, when you’re in DC you don’t eat at the same place twice.” He said it slow and deliberate. “I asked why.”

“Oh. There are so many great places to eat, I want to try them all.” She thought it was a good enough lie. She was an expert at reading lies on a subject’s face and felt she was equally good at covering her own.
But Hunter?
He was masterfully scanning her face and could easily be as skilled as she at detecting lies. To prevent him from reading her she blocked his vision with her wine glass and gulped, watching him over the rim. The wine registered in an explosion of flavor on her taste buds. She looked at the ruby liquid. “This is wonderful.”

“Better if you don’t gulp it,” he said and freshened their glasses.

She said nothing, grateful for the low lighting as heat crept up her neck and face. He wasn’t going to talk either. He just sat there giving her an unblinking,
I’m reading your mind
look. Vic, asking for their orders, saving her from death by silence and maybe a Vulcan mind meld.

“The veal here is the best I’ve ever had,” Hunter said before she could order it. Vic enthusiastically nodded his approval. The man
could
read her mind. She loved veal but ordered the chicken parm to let him know he couldn’t.

“Chicken parm for the lady. The veal for me.” He gave Vic the menus. “And…” He glanced to her, his hard stare morphed into a crooked smile. “Since the lady approves of the wine bring another bottle with dinner.”

Vic turned to leave. “Sure you don’t want to change your order?” Hunter asked casually. Vic went still, waiting.

“No.” She shook her head, remaining inexplicably stubborn and a little freaked out he’d guessed she’d considered changing. “Yes.”
What the hell.
“I would like the veal.”