Page 17 of Trusting His Heart

Close enough to touch

“Good morning, gorgeous,” even knowing he would see her tonight couldn’t stop him from wanting hers to be the first voice he heard. Geoffrey tried to be restrained in contacting Bec since the dinner. The intended occasional phone call, the occasional text became daily. Hopefully, not enough to scare her off but enough for her to be thinking about him as much as he dreamt about her – all the time.

“Good morning, yourself. How are you this fine day,” he wanted to listen to her accent all day and tease her for avoiding one of his most loved consonants – the “r”.

“All the better for hearing your voice, I’m making my first coffee and then ready to start the day. How about you?”

He heard her laugh, “I got back from my jog half an hour ago and am ready to go into the office.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be finished in time to get dolled up for you tonight.”

“If you aren’t at your house by six thirty, I’m tracking you down to your office and dragging you out to have fun.”

Again, with her beautiful laugh, “I’ll be ready.” As the phone died, so did his heart, a little. The highlight of his day became hearing her voice and after a number of false starts and work crisis, tonight was to be the night of their first real date.

Taking women to the gallery had been his go to move for young undergraduates. They were intimidated by the glamourous, elegant women and thankful for his attention. For many, he watched them take their first taste of expensive champagne and become overwhelmed by his charm. He let them lead the conversation, and when the magic of the evening took them to his bed for the beginning of a very satisfying relationship. At least for as long as the affair lasted.

Never again.

Tonight, was first time a woman like Bec accompanied him to the gallery. She would not be intimidated by the surroundings. He was looking forward to her views on the indigenous art featured in the new display. Older and more worldly than his undergrad girlfriends, Bec wouldn’t put up with his arrogance and proved on many occasion she beat him at verbal sparring verging on flirting.

Tonight he looked forward to a date because he wanted to get to know the woman, rather than run through his routine until they ended up in bed. He didn’t care if he took Bec home tonight or tomorrow night – as long as once she came home with him, she never left.

He felt drawn to her, needed to hear her voice, wanted to see her, wanted to talk to her about random events he read online or happened during the day. For the first time since his wife died, he wanted a real relationship with feelings and even, possibly, in the fullness of time, love. Bec opened his eyes on the plane and since then, started opening his heart.

Bec slammed the cab door shut and ran inside her unit complex, fumbling with the swipe card and trying to think whether the lift or stairs would be quicker. The “quick phone call” with a client took almost an hour and now she left herself with less than twenty minutes to shower, change and become the relaxed goddess she hoped would be waiting for Geoffrey when he arrived.

After her quick shower, her hair felt too damp to straighten and she didn’t have enough time to style. “Natural it is,” she admonished herself knowing she would spend then night with random curls down her shoulders instead of the styled waves or up in a dancer’s bun. Now she faced the choice of dresses to go with her messy rather than elegant hair.

Dress after dress ended up in a pile on her floor, each discarded as too old fashioned, too long, too short, too filled with memories of her previous life. Finally, she found an old nude colored slip style dress she bought on a holiday impulse. Completely different to everything she normally wore, but, she thought, appropriate for tonight. Perhaps this evening with Geoffrey could be the start of the rest of her life. And if it turned out to be another failed attempt at rebuilding her life, then she would give the dress away with no regrets.

Gold strappy sandals and a multiple gold chain necklace completed her style until she looked in the mirror and saw a woman she didn’t recognize. Bec saw a vibrant, sexy woman on her way to meet her lover, not the look for going on a first date.

Dressing to match the way she felt when Geoffrey kissed her. As if their clothes were merely an impediment to standing as physically naked as they were emotionally naked together. She had felt him grow against her and regretted not taking him up on the offer of coffee. One wanton night together might have been the tonic for her insomnia!

She swapped out the gold accessories and sandals with grey blue pearls and matching sandals which were still high but not as strappy. She found a blue grey silk jacket in the back of her closet which toned down the sexy look to something she felt more comfortable in and didn’t scream “Grab me now and make love to me in the cloak room”.

A light touch of makeup completed her look and Bec waited for Geoffrey to pick her up for her first, first date in more years than she cared to remember.

Geoffrey never personally turned up to a florist or picked out floral arrangements himself, why should he when his secretary did such an amazing job for him. Standing in the array of colors and scents he found himself overwhelmed by the choice. Normally, his secretary ordered an extravagant arrangement of Australian natives which would hold their color for weeks to ensure his gallery date would remember him every time she walked past. Bec deserved the best – something as special, different and deserving as the lady herself.

Roses – too predictable and presumptuous. He didn’t want to scare her by overplaying how he felt. Orchids were beautiful but too fragile. Mixed arrangements too ordinary.

Then, he saw a collection of potted African Violets. Small, perfect petals with the cream of her skin, the blonde of her hair and the deep violet blue of her eyes. He restrained the urge to buy them all, and selected the one with the most mature growth.

As he drove to her unit, feelings of self doubt overcame him. What if she saw them as the gift of a friend, rather than a future partner. He didn’t even know if she had allergies? What if, what if, what if. Scenarios played out in his head and refused to be shaken.

He never over thought these events before – what happened to him? All the nerves and self doubts he remembered as a school boy on his first ever date.

Although in truth, tonight promised to be the first, first date since his wife died which meant something. The thought of allowing himself to move on scared him more than he cared to admit even to himself.

Resting the plant against his hip as he approached the door, Geoffrey wiped his sweaty palms. He regretted not bringing a bottle of wine, even though he didn’t know what she liked or whether she would think he would expect to share it with her either before they left of afterwards.

He even considered turning around and walking away – not sure if he was ready for this, ready for Bec.

And then she opened the door. An obvious and unavoidable intake of breath and long sigh as he took in the vision before him. Bec stood in her doorway, oblivious to how breathtaking, physically breathtaking she looked. Every part of him wanted to take her in his arms, carry her to a bed strewn with rose petals and love her until she couldn’t be loved anymore.