UnWritten Read online

  “That is most certainly true.” We shared one of those glances where you both know exactly what the other one is thinking. I felt myself blushing, and I broke eye contact first. A little voice in the back of my head reminded me that I was a dirty, nasty liar and I shouldn’t be going out with him.

  I turned the music up to drown it out.

  “Where are we going?” It was déjà vu from the first date.

  Declan just shook his head and kept driving.

  “Can you at least tell me if you’re going to try to top the first date, or if the first date was a fluke to get me into bed and now you’re going to cease trying to woo me and it’s all going to be downhill now?” From everything I’d learned so far about Declan, I had the feeling that the second thing probably wasn’t true. Right?

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that there is a lot more to you than meets the eye, Declan Bennet.”

  He laughed again.

  “I like that answer.”

  Unlike the first date, tonight we headed for the city, and I started running the various possible locations through my mind. We’d definitely have a better chance of finding a hotel room if we ended up ripping each other’s clothes off again. I was hoping for that to be part of the date. He needed to finish what he’d been in the middle of this afternoon. My womanly bits tingled in anticipation.

  Declan pulled into a parking garage in the heart of the city. Damn. No clues there.

  We somehow found a spot on the second level, and Declan took my hand as we walked down the stairs. I was surprised a little, but let him hold it. He had long fingers that tapered at the tips. I was familiar with the skill of those fingers and the fact that they had quite an accurate reach.

  “Do you play the piano?” The question was out of left field, but he didn’t seem perturbed by it.

  “Some, and not in a long time. My mother always wanted me to, but I didn’t have the talent for it. And I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leaned down and put his mouth close to my ear.

  “I was a terrible student.” I found that hard to believe. He’d done so well at everything else. But, everyone had flaws. If his was that he was a bad piano player, I’d take it.

  “Why do you ask?” he said.

  We came out at street level and turned left.

  “You have piano-playing hands. And you’re very good with your fingers.” I knew he saw my blush in the waning light of the sun.

  “Am I?” He seemed surprised-slash-pleased. Hadn’t I made it obvious how good he was, based on my begging and screaming and praising his existence?

  “Little bit,” I said. “Just a little bit.”

  When we stopped in front of the restaurant, I wondered if he was joking.

  “Is this for real?” He just held the door open for me and waited. Smiling and shaking my head at him, I walked into the only southern comfort restaurant in a sixty-mile radius of where I lived. I tended to avoid anything that reminded me of my mother, so I’d never eaten here before, but I’d heard all kinds of rave reviews.

  Soft piano music greeted us as the server weaved through the tables to the back of the restaurant, where there was a little patio lined in crushed stones and one small table with two chairs. A little fire burned in what looked like a metal bowl next to the table and twinkle lights dripped on the branches of the potted trees that formed a little canopy, with the sky peeking out here and there.

  A private oasis.

  Declan held my chair out for me and then the hostess handed me a menu.

  “Can I start y’all with some drinks?” The girl’s accent was thick and had a Mississippi twang to it. I wondered if all the servers were imported.

  “What would you recommend?” Declan said, but he was looking at me. “If I wanted to really get the experience of being in the south?” The hostess stared at him, as if he’d spoken another language.

  “If you want to go non-alcoholic, sweet tea,” I said for her. I didn’t want to be the only one drinking booze, so that was the next best thing.

  Declan smiled at me. “Then two sweet teas, please.” The hostess blushed and nodded, saying she’d put that right in for us.

  “Maybe you do have magical powers. You rendered her kinda speechless,” I said as I scanned the menu. It definitely was southern comfort food. If you were on a diet, this was not the place to come, that was for sure. I could feel my thighs getting fatter just staring at the menu. Macaroni and cheese, fried green tomatoes, grits (served three ways), pulled pork, ribs, barbecue chicken. The gang was all here.

  Our waiter arrived and he also had a drawl, but it almost sounded put on. Was that a job requirement? To make “atmosphere”?

  I ordered the fried green tomatoes, cheese grits, collard greens and the roast chicken. Declan got the same.

  “You don’t have to copy me, you know. You could have ordered something else.”

  “I know. But I think you know what’s good and what’s not, so I trust your judgment.” He sat back in his chair and I watched the firelight flicker on his face.

  “Well, that is flattering. Have you never had southern food?” I said.

  “Not really. I haven’t had occasion to travel much in the south. I mostly stay in New England.” I asked him about more of his travels, and about where he’d grown up.

  “I haven’t been back in several years. We came to the States when I was seventeen. My father had made some contacts and found a job here, so we moved.”

  “That must have been hard.” I sipped my sweet tea, and it was as if I’d traveled through time and space to back when my grandmother lived in Atlanta and she’d serve it to us on her porch in the summer while we tried not to melt from the heat.

  “I suppose.” Apparently I’d touched a sore subject, although, this time I wasn’t sure what exactly it was he didn’t want to discuss. Most of the information I’d seen on him had been more recent.

  As the glow of the sun faded into the night, Declan and I talked and drank sweet tea and ate and I realized, once again, how much I liked him. Not just a little like. Not just a crush, like the one I’d had on a boy band member when I was twelve. This was the start of something that could be much deeper and it freaked the fuck out of me. Hardcore.

  This was moving fast, and moving toward something I didn’t think I was ready for. Not to mention all the crap about me lying to him. That would probably be a deal breaker for him. Or at least it should be. I started thinking about flipping the situation around. Would I still want to see him if I knew that he’d looked up every detail of my life online? If he’d wanted to go out with me so he could use me to write a book? Hell no. I mean, definitely not. I wouldn’t.

  Maybe? Maybe if he was really sorry?

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked because I’d stopped talking.

  “Nothing. Just how nice this is.” My voice sounded false to my ears, and Declan’s eyebrows contracted just enough for me to see that he was skeptical of what I’d just said. “Sorry. That’s a lie. I was just thinking . . . I mean.” I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  I tried to extract the words from my mouth, but the waiter chose that moment to come and ask us if we wanted dessert.

  “Could you give us a moment?” Declan said, and the waiter was smart enough to see that we were in the middle of something, so he mumbled that he’d be back in a few minutes.

  Declan’s icy stare, and the interruption of the waiter made the words stick in my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “For what?”

  Too many things to list. I tried to say just one of them. If I could say one, then the rest would come out.

  The words were on the tip of my tongue when Declan’s phone rang.

  “That’s Ada’s ringtone. I apologize, I need to take this.” I waved my hand to indicate that he should and he got up from the table and answered. His posture went rigid and then he started speaking
in short hard words. Something must be wrong. His voice was too low for me to hear, but it was the kind of conversation that you could figure out without words. He hung up and turned back to me.

  “Drake has a fever and he’s asking for me. He’s had a bad bout with ear infections, so I need to go to him.”

  “No, no, absolutely.” I was relieved that I’d gotten off the hook, but it was for a sucky reason.

  “Would you mind terribly if we went straight to my place so I could check on him? Then I could find you another way home?” His face was tight with concern, and his fingers gripped his phone in anxiety.

  “No, not at all.” Declan grabbed my hand again, but this time he held it almost too hard. As if he was scared and needed something to hang onto. I was more than willing to fill that role. We walked as fast as we could back to the parking garage and then headed to his place.

  It was a short drive to his house, and even shorter because he drove fast. The car was built for speeding down the Autobahn, and it ate up the miles.

  Raine had helpfully included pictures of the exterior of his home in the dossier, so I was prepared for it when we pulled up in front of a brick house just outside the city. What the picture hadn’t shown was the swing set in the front yard and the various toys that littered the lawn. Declan was so put together that it seemed out of place with the rest of him, but sweet nonetheless. He didn’t bother to put the car in the garage, just parked next to what I assumed was Ada’s little red sports car.

  He rushed to the front door, and I walked after him, feeling a little out of place in this situation. I was sure he forgot about me as he pushed open the front door and took the stairs that swept down into the foyer two at a time. I was left to close the door and wonder if I was supposed to go after him, or wait. What the hell was the protocol here?

  I decided on hanging in the foyer for the moment. Damn, this house was nice. Globe lights hung from the ceiling in a cluster above my head and floors of dark hardwood shone in the light. There were more toys here and there, the bright colors clashing with the more classic decorations. Declan (or whoever had decorated) had style and there were subtle touches from his childhood everywhere. A framed picture of the British flag on the wall, a toy model of a double decker bus, a vase painted with a pastoral scene and filled with fresh flowers. There were also beautiful black and white photographs of Drake interspersed with the décor. Drake’s presence was everywhere.

  Voices upstairs caught my attention, and then Ada appeared.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked. She wasn’t exactly the person I wanted to see, but I didn’t have a choice. She flounced down the stairs as if she owned the place.

  “Yes, he should be fine. I debated about calling, but Declan is such a good father.” No shit, girlfriend. I knew Declan was a good father. I didn’t need her to tell me that. Clearly, this girl wanted to take Declan’s ex-wife’s place. Well, she wanted everything that went with the place, but she didn’t seem so keen on being a mother. For someone who worked with children, her attire wasn’t kid-friendly at all, and she never looked like she got down and dirty or played any games.

  When Ada finally reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked at me as if I’d tracked mud on the hardwood floors. Our staredown was interrupted by Declan arriving at the top of the stairs with Drake draped over his shoulder.

  “He wanted to come say hello,” Declan said in explanation as he carried Drake down the stairs.

  I walked up and met them halfway, Ada silently fuming behind me. Drake lifted his head and cracked his eyes open. He had on a set of striped pajamas that were a little too big for him.

  “Hi Blair,” his sleepy voice said.

  “Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?” His lower lip stuck out.

  “Yucky.”

  “Yeah, that’s what your daddy said. Why don’t you go up to bed and rest so you can get better?” I smoothed his hair away from his sweaty forehead. Damn, the kid was burning up.

  “Will you read to me?” He could have asked for a kidney and I would have sliced my stomach open right there.

  “Sure, bud.” I looked at Declan and he nodded that it would be okay. Together we walked the rest of the way back up the stairs and down the hall to Drake’s room. It had an airplane theme, with little models hanging from the ceiling and a bed with helicopters painted on the headboard.

  Declan gently placed Drake in his bed and came to speak quietly to me.

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Declan. I read stories to children all day. It’s my job.” He almost said something else, but then changed his mind.

  I crouched by Drake’s bed.

  “What book would you like me to read you?” He thought about that for a minute, his poor little brain working way too hard.

  “Doggy book,” he said, his eyelids fluttering closed. Usually I was good at that game, but “doggy book” could literally mean a thousand different things. But, of course, his father knew exactly which book and handed it to me as I settled myself on the edge of Drake’s bed. The book was standard generic fare. Not my favorite, but Drake was still in that early reading stage where he liked books with pictures of dogs in them, regardless of the quality of the content. I’d have to work on that, but he was still young. There was plenty of time to guide his tastes in the right direction.

  I read the book three times, until his breathing deepened and I could tell he was asleep. I got up slowly from the bed, wary of waking him if I moved too fast. Declan nodded to me and we both tiptoed out of the room and closed the door. He took my arm and led me further down the hall into what, I could only assume, was his bedroom.

  “Is everything okay? You seemed really worried,” I said and he almost looked like he was going to hug me, but then he just leaned against the door.

  “I’m fine. Nervous father, I suppose. I apologize for ruining our date.” Was he for real?

  “Are you kidding? Your sick child did not ruin our date. Life happens. You’re a father and that’s part of who you are. If I want to be with you, I have to accept that part of your life.” Shit. I didn’t mean to have it come out like that.

  “Be with me?” He definitely caught that part.

  “I mean, do whatever this is that we’re doing. And it’s not like hanging out with Drake is some sort of sacrifice. He’s a great kid. But you don’t need me to tell you that.” He finally smiled and I moved closer to him, stroking the lapel of his jacket.

  “I’ll just call a cab or something to take me home.” He looked down at me in confusion.

  “Right. No, you don’t have to do that. I can take you.”

  “No, no. You stay with Drake. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” In more ways than one.

  But he was adamant and shook his head.

  “No, I was probably being melodramatic. He’s asleep so there’s not much I can do for him at the moment.” He pushed some of my hair back and the air sizzled between us. It definitely wasn’t the right time or place, but I wanted him. So much that I envisioned throwing him back on his bed and ravishing him until he begged me for mercy.

  My less-lusty instincts prevailed and I stepped away from him. I was just glad he hadn’t suggested Ada drive me home. That would have been an unpleasant experience to say the least.

  Declan checked on Drake one more time before we walked back downstairs. Ada sat on a chair in the formal living room to the left of the foyer. Or perched was a better term. Like a lady sitting on a throne. I really didn’t want to hate her, but she made it difficult not to. Maybe, deep down inside, she was a lovely human being. But all I saw was bitch.

  “I’m going to drive Blair home. Would you mind staying with him?” Declan said, his hand resting on my lower back. Ada’s eyes missed nothing, and she definitely saw the contact.

  “Not at all, Mr. Bennet.” Her tone dripped with “I would do anything for you, Mr. Bennet.” Blech. Declan seemed oblivious, and ushered me out the front door.

  “I apologize. How rude of
me. I should have given you the tour,” he said as we walked back to the car.

  “Another time. Don’t worry about it. Do you Brits apologize for everything?” That finally got him to laugh and he opened the door for me.

  “We’re quite good at it, aren’t we?”

  “And standing in lines. Or queuing as you’d say.” I loved British words. They were so much better and nicer sounding than the American phrases for things.

  “We are good at that as well,” he said, backing out of the driveway. “I am sorry about our night getting cut short.”

  “Did you have big plans?”

  “Perhaps.” Definitely.

  “So maybe we should reschedule?” He nodded and we started talking about when we could see each other next. He had a night class tomorrow and confessed that he’d been getting behind in his coursework in the past few days.

  “I’m not sorry,” I said. “Not that I don’t want you to do well in school. That came out wrong.”

  “No, no. It’s my fault. Letting you be my beautiful distraction.” I liked the sound of that. I’d also been using him as my distraction from writing.

  “So how about the weekend?” After a little wrangling, we decided that Saturday night was best. It would also give me and Raine some time to get caught back up on everything before our editor and agent held us hostage so we’d finish.

  I hadn’t told him about the cyber stalking. I’d gotten interrupted and hadn’t gotten back to it. I was a terrible, terrible person. I shouldn’t even be allowed to go out with him again. I should break it off. He’d already been hurt by his ex, and here I was. Another woman screwing him over and hiding something from him. My mood went from buoyant to completely deflated in two seconds. Since he missed nothing, Declan asked me about it.

  “Remember when we were at dinner and I said I had to tell you something and then your phone rang? That. I’m thinking about that,” I said.

  The air in the car became hard to inhale and I kicked myself for doing this in a place that I couldn’t escape. Throwing myself out of a moving car wasn’t that appealing.