“Violet, you have a whole bunch of condoms in your bag and you already have that glow going on.”
I glance down at the purse at my feet, the condoms visible. Damn, she’s observant.
“And, sweetie, it’s fine. I just know how easy it is to be charmed by someone.”
I stare at her oddly. “Other than Dad, you mean? Because you were high school sweethearts…”
She swallows. “Yes. But don’t think other people haven’t come and gone in my life. Everyone meets a silver-tongued serpent at some point.”
Silver-tongued serpent. I know the phrase is supposed to make me feel wary about Vicente but instead it only turns me on. I envision him licking the glass the other day and wonder what it would feel like to have him lick up the sides of my legs, those intense eyes staring right into mine.
I’m not even sure I can handle that. That’s where my mom has pegged me wrong. She thinks that I’ll lose all control over my emotions and judgment the moment I sleep with Vicente. The fact is, I almost wish for that happen. With all the guys I’ve slept with—and there’s only been three—I’ve never been able to disconnect from my brain and logic, which unfortunately means I’ve never experienced sex the way it should be.
Unless things change with Vicente, I think. But as smooth and sensual as he may be, I think he’s going to have an uphill battle.
Once at school, I have a hard time focusing on the tasks at hand. Usually I’m such a perfectionist in my work, but my thoughts keep drifting to Vicente, and the more I think about him, the more nervous I get. He said he was going to come get me when class is over at four, which barely gives me any time to prepare.
Even Ginny, who is normally oblivious, picks up on it. “What’s going on with you?” she whispers to me, leaning across the aisle. “You’re jumpier than normal. And that’s saying a lot.”
“It’s nothing,” I tell her, trying not to fidget and to concentrate on whatever the hell Anderson is talking about.
“Nothing, my ass,” she says. I feel her eyes on me, staring. “What’s with all the cleavage?”
“Why, am I turning you on?” I say dryly.
“Phhfft, you wish.”
At least that gets her off my back.
But when class is finished, I’m drowning in my nerves again. If he doesn’t take me for a drink before dinner, I’m going to insist.
Ginny still knows something is up because she’s hanging around me as I grab my books, eyeing me like a detective on a case. I can only hope that Vicente is across the road.
Nope.
The moment we get out the door and onto the street, Vicente is right there, breaking into a gorgeous grin when he sees me. I swear I can feel it all the way to my toes.
“Hey,” he says, coming over to me. To my complete surprise, he leans over and kisses me on the cheek. I can feel that deep inside too.
I nervously look over at Ginny who’s staring at us in both shock and annoyance.
“Hi, I’m Ginny,” she says, roughly sticking her hand out between us for Vicente to shake.
“Ginny,” Vicente says, taking it in stride. “I’m Vicente. Violet’s friend.”
Friend? Well, at least he’s not assuming anything.
“I’m also Violet’s friend.” She shoots me a glance through narrowed eyes. “Though apparently not a very good one since this is the first I’m hearing of you. Vicente.”
“Perhaps she didn’t want to make you jealous,” he says lightly.
She snorts. “Right. You’re obviously new in town, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Violet has been kind enough to show me around. Tonight I’m taking her out for dinner to return the favor.”
“Top of the Mark,” I tell her gleefully.
“Nice,” she says flatly. “Anyway, I suppose I should let you both go on your way.” She pokes me in the arm. “If you don’t text me tonight, I’m showing up at your door. Got it?”
I wait until she has walked away and is out of sight before I turn to Vicente. “Sorry about that. She can be a bit abrasive.”
“I like her,” he says. He nods to the hill. “Shall we?”
I look behind me at the bar, wondering if it makes me sound silly to suggest getting a drink. I don’t want him to think he makes me nervous.
“I have champagne chilling in the room,” he says.
My brows shoot up. What?
It’s like he already knows me on another level.
He watches me, an amused smirk coming across his lips. “Don’t worry. We can go to the bar if you want. I just figured you might want to be somewhere a little more comfortable to have a drink before dinner. Somewhere where we can control the lights, the music, the scene. Somewhere you can feel in control.”
He knows the right things to say, that’s for sure, because the longer I’m around him, the more I feel control slipping out of my fingers.
We head up the hill, my cheek still tingling from where he kissed me while we talk about the weather (it’s supposed to get hot and sunny tomorrow, which often happens in the fall) and the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park over the weekend.
“I’m not a fan of country music,” he says as we approach the hotel, “but I would love to take you.”
“My brother Ben is coming up with some of his friends,” I tell him. “We could all go. And they don’t just play country or bluegrass, there’s a range of different music. A billionaire puts it on every year and it’s free for everyone and anyone.”