Every Part of You: Denies Me (#4) Read online

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Begin Reading

  About the Author

  Copyright

  How long had it been since Simone had gone on a date? A real date, with a man who picked her up at her door, brought her flowers and took her out to eat, then to see a live show. And then, after, to a fancy cigar-and-cocktail bar to listen to a pair of dueling pianos.

  “A long time,” was the answer to Elliott’s question as she took the flowers from him and pressed her nose to the blooms, which were not cut, but live in a small pot. She grinned at him over the top of a spray of baby’s breath. “A lot longer than it’s been for you.”

  He held his arm out to her as they walked along the cobblestone street to where he’d parked his car. “You want to know how long it’s been since a man took me to dinner and a concert?”

  She knuckle-punched his arm and waited for him to open the car door for her. “You’re such a giant dork.”

  Elliott waited until she’d slipped into the passenger seat, then leaned down to look into the car at her. “You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to insult me.”

  She thought about the nights she’d watched him in his office. “It hasn’t been that long for you. You’ve been on lots of dates.”

  “I don’t remember any of them,” he said gallantly. “None of them mattered. This’ll be like my first date, ever. Oh my stars and garters, you be gentle with me, now.”

  He pulled such an expression of mock innocence that Simone laughed and pummeled him again, but carefully, since he’d pulled out into traffic. Then she sat back in the seat, trying to relax. Peeking at him from the corner of her eye, she grinned.

  “It’s not my first date. It’s just been a long time since I had a real one.”

  “Why is that?” Elliott guided his car expertly through the Philadelphia traffic.

  “Nobody’s asked,” Simone said honestly.

  He glanced at her. “You don’t impress me as the sort of woman who waits to be asked.”

  She laughed, smelling the flowers again. “Depends, I guess. Haven’t had time to date. Haven’t cared about it. I had that semi-long-term relationship a few years ago, and it didn’t work out. So … I dunno. I guess I wasn’t into it.”

  Tension curled between them, but he didn’t ask for details. They hadn’t talked about Aidan since the night Elliott had asked Simone if she’d fucked him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hanging between them. She’d have talked about it, if he asked. Simone had few secrets, and Aidan wasn’t one of them.

  But Elliott didn’t ask. Instead, he reached for her hand and held it as he drove, letting go only when he had to in order to drive safely, and then he took it up again. The trip to Serrano’s took only a few minutes from her place in Rittenhouse Square, but Simone sort of wished it could’ve lasted forever.

  “We almost could’ve walked,” she told him as he pulled into a tight spot in an expensive lot.

  Elliott looked at her with a frown. “From your place? No. In those shoes?”

  Simone looked down at her high-heeled pumps with a laugh. They had an inch-thick platform and four-inch heels. He had a point.

  “You could’ve carried me when my feet started to hurt,” she teased, though she’d been short her entire life and wore high heels like other girls wore sneakers.

  Elliott leaned across the front seat, she thought to kiss her, though he only whispered his lips along hers “If that’s what you needed me to do, I guess I could have.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  He laughed and withdrew. “Wait. I’ll get the door.”

  Elliott really was a gentleman, Simone thought as she waited, giddy, for him to help her out of the car. She took his arm to help her keep her balance on the uneven sidewalk, not because she really needed the help but because he offered it, and she wanted to touch him. Oh, did she want to touch him.

  Serrano’s was narrow and old, a wooden bar along one side taking up so much space there was room only for one row of tables along the wall until you went to the back of the restaurant. Brick walls and tin ceilings that were typical of a lot of places in old-city Philly. They were seated at one of the small tables along the wall with a nice view of the street outside.

  “I’ve never been here,” Simone said as Elliott pulled out her chair for her.

  “No?”

  She shook her head, looking around. “Nope. Do you come here a lot?”

  “No,” Elliott said after a minute. “But when you buy tickets for the concerts upstairs, you’re encouraged to make dinner reservations because you get reserved seating upstairs. It seemed like a great place. But if you don’t like it…”

  She laughed and covered his hand with hers. “I like it. What’s not to like?”

  “It’s old,” he said, looking around.

  “Relax, Mr. Worry. I like it,” Simone told him, and they shared a smile.

  It would’ve been unrealistic of her to expect him to change overnight, but whatever had prompted Elliott to decide he wanted to make this relationship something more than just sex had definitely changed things. He’d called her every day for the entire two weeks before this official date, sometimes just to say good night, though they’d ended up talking for at least an hour every time before he’d begged off in order to get some sleep.

  He’d been surprisingly easy to talk to, once he got started. And funny! The man was a laugh riot, with a dry sense of humor that nevertheless hit her in all the right places. There’d been times he’d had her giggling so hard she couldn’t talk, and that was a rare accomplishment.

  They’d covered topics from favorite flavors of ice cream to musical tastes, even hitting the forbidden ones like politics and religion. They voted for different parties but were on board with most of the major issues. Simone was Jewish but not observant, and Elliott was a confirmed agnostic who’d been raised with no church background. He’d gone to Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, and Simone had gone to Millersville, but both of them had gone with academic scholarships.

  “Elliott,” Simone said quietly after the waiter had taken their drink orders and gone. “This is nice.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  She could have guessed he’d be a good date. A man who made a habit of dating women only a couple times would probably be good at the ritual of it. The pomp and circumstance of first dates, Simone thought, but thinking that took away some of the pleasure she was getting from all the effort he was so clearly making.

  “What changed your mind?” The words popped out, blunt and unbidden, and she cursed herself for not being able to simply sit back and enjoy what was promising to be a very nice evening.

  Elliott sat back in his chair and looked serious. “About…?”

  “This. About dating.”

  “You did,” he said.

  That answer should have been enough, but Simone had never been a woman to settle for half measures. She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear, then toyed with the basket of cheese crackers neither of them had yet touched. She took one and put it on her small plate, but didn’t eat it.

  “What about me?”

  “Everything,” Elliott said, and then the waiter returned with their drinks and the moment to pursue that conversation was lost.

  It was just as well. They’d only started the night. There