Nothing More Beautiful (14 page)

Colby-Jack hopped onto the bed and kneaded
the comforter, desperate for attention. I rubbed his head and
scratched behind his right ear, his second favorite spot, and said,
“Wish me luck, CJ.” He replied with a soft purr.

After adjusting my hair, I rejoined Vince in
the living room, where he was talking with Ashley and Danielle.
“Again, it wasn’t a problem,” he said, obviously talking about the
fender bender. He turned when their eyes shifted toward me entering
from the hall. His eyes landed on me and my skin tingled all over,
electrified. “Wow—that’s uh . . .” He gulped,
staring at my chest. “You look stunning. What is that? I’ve never
seen anything like it.”

“It’s a sweater dress,” I answered,
smoothing out the sides to the flare skirt hem.

“They’re all over,” Danielle said. “You’ve
probably seen them, but didn’t notice.”

“Because few are rockin’ ’em like Maci,”
Ashley added.

“I would agree with that,” Vince said,
smiling. “And who’s this little guy?” Colby-Jack ran beside me and
rubbed Vince’s legs. He dropped to the floor and scratched
Colby-Jack’s neck.

“That’s my cat, Colby-Jack,” I answered.

“Like the cheese?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Clever.” He stood up and held up his arm
like a gentleman from the movies. “Shall we, my dear?”

I tossed my clutch into one of Danielle’s
stylish brown leather purses that matched my boots, then grabbed
his arm. “I’ll see you two later.”

“Go Blazers!” Ashley said, throwing out her
arm to smack my butt, but Danielle blocked her shot with a quick
slap that Vince couldn’t see.

“Have fun,” Danielle said, shutting the door
as we stepped down onto the broken and cracked walkway. He opened
the passenger door to his Mustang and closed it when I locked the
buckle in place.

“So, this is what a billionaire’s car is
like,” I joked as he sat. I wanted to tranquillize the elephant
before it loomed between us on the date.

He started up the engine, which was oddly
silent, and when I made a second glance at the controls, I saw that
they were all electric, with a green “ON” button. “So, you
do
know who I am.” He entered the street. Behind us I could
see Terrance zigzagging back and forth on his motorcycle in a bored
manner. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“It took me a while,” I admitted. “Actually,
I probably never would’ve figured it out. The clerk at Powell’s
last night pointed you out on the cover of
Wired
.”

“Ah.” He looked over at me and trapped my
eyes. “And?”

“And what?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to this date if I
wasn’t.”

He nodded. “Just checking. Most people are
very uncomfortable around me when they realize who I am.”

My left hand was inching toward the console
between us, edging for his thigh. The impulse to kiss him was so
strong and wild. It took all I had to arrest the temptation. I
clutched the purse in my lap with a vise-like grip. “It is a little
intimidating.”

“Are you trying to strangle your purse?” he
asked, nodding at my hands.

“What? Oh.” I relaxed my fingers and
loosened my shoulders, placing my arms on the upholstered armrests.
“Just trying to wrap my head around what’s happening.”

“Our date?”

“Yeah, our date.”

“Because of the money?”

“Because you seem so normal.”

He laughed. “I like normalcy.”

I had to do it. I had to know. “Why me?” I
asked.

“Because you think I’m normal,” he answered.
“Few others do. Makes it hard to be normal, you know? When people
talk to me, they talk about my money, my company, and all that. But
not you—you talked to me about normal stuff, even asked about the
book I was reading. Other women just talk to me because they see
dollar signs.”

I opened my mouth to respond but was cut
off.

“And because you’re leagues sexier than any
woman I’ve ever met.” His voice hitched, clearly nervous putting
that out in the air.

I reddened all over. “Are you looking for a
dalliance with me?” My heart pounded as the words left my mouth.
What did I want him to say? Yes? No? What would I do
if
he
said yes?

“You mean like a one-night stand?”

I nodded, shaking.

“No,” he said, “that’s not what I’m looking
for.”

I hadn’t even noticed I was holding my
breath, but I sighed in relief—a huge, audible sigh.

“Is that what you want from me?”

I smiled at him, my eyes yearning for him,
and I could tell he was fighting the same battle. The sense of
desire pervaded the small enclosure.
No, I want you more than
once
, a dark little voice whispered in my head. Who was she and
where did she come from? “I want to get to know you,” I replied.
“Every time we meet, I don’t feel like you’re just talking to me
because I’m there, but you’re talking to me because you genuinely
are interested in what I have to say.”

“So you’re not here just for my rippling
muscles?” he laughed. The nervous tension was evaporating, leaving
only the sexual. “I’d like you to get to know me, too, but I really
want to dive deeper into the mystery that is Maci Goodwin.”

“I’m not sure I’m much of a mystery.”

He laughed again. “You are to me. I know
almost nothing about you.”

“Well, sadly, there’s no Wikipedia page on
me for you to brush up on my past.”

“No, I guess not. I’ll just have to do it
the old-fashioned ‘Q&A’ style.” He rested his right hand on the
gear stick and I wanted to graze his fingers, but instead, I turned
my attention to the passing buildings for distraction. Could I be
so forward? He wasn’t an Andre or a David, and flirtatious touching
seemed more complicated, especially since every time I touched him,
my body came to life with electricity. His voice broke my thoughts.
“But first, tell me what Wikipedia said about me.”

“That you were born in Seattle in 1987,” I
said, checking the mirror for the bodyguard. It felt like he was a
spy sent to make sure I didn’t get too close. “That you went to
Stanford for your undergrad, then earned your MS in Mechanical
Engineering, also at Stanford, starting up your own company with
Alma Perez in 2012 after you graduated, working in the alternative
energy industry . . . Surprisingly, not much. I
mean, for someone with your affluence.”

“Well, I’m pretty new to the scene. I mean,
I’m no Mark Zuckerberg, not yet anyway. He was only 23 when he made
his first billion.” It sounded like he was comparing his success,
but it was hard to tell what he meant by the comment. “It’s all
happened so fast, our first contract coming early last year to
really kick us off, then the military voiced their interest in
June, and that’s where a huge chunk has come from. Of course,
international clients are what sent us over the billion-dollar hump
and into the major players club.”

I crossed my legs and straightened up a bit.
“So what exactly is it that Imaginuity Solutions, Inc. does?”

“We make batteries. Big and small.”

“Batteries?”

The Moda Center grew as we neared and I
couldn’t believe that we were almost there. Time melted away just
talking with him. “We started out with reinventing batteries for
electric cars. Alma and I set out to design a battery module that
would last 100 miles on a single charge, but we ended up creating
one that lasted 1147 miles on a charge. Our battery modules
comprise only ten batteries, which take up a significantly smaller
space, and that means we can pack more modules into a car for a
greater distance.”

“That sounds amazing,” I said, blown away
despite not understanding everything he said. “How come that’s not
all over the news?”

“It’s being kept a secret, for the most
part, with many of our tests guarded by non-disclosure
agreements—Ah, which I probably should’ve had you sign before I
told you all that. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?
Something about you says I can trust you.”

I ran two pinched fingers over my mouth,
zipping them up. “Sealed.”

He smiled. “Sweet.” The streets around the
Moda Center were packed—the sidewalks too. Vince pulled into one of
the parking garages and showed a special pass to a guy directing
traffic at the entrance. We parked in a space designated with
Vince’s name. Terrance pulled into the space next to us.

“Come here often?” I asked, not entirely
surprised since he had an expensive jacket embroidered to show off
his team spirit.

“Every game I can. Stay there for a second.”
He got out and walked around the car, opening my door. “My lady.”
He offered me his hand.

I accepted it with a smile. “Such
manners.”

“I was always told that if you were nice to
girls, they would kiss you when the night was over.”

“So much effort for a kiss.”

“I think the reward will be greater than the
effort.” Our fingers mingled, finding their place as they
interlocked. My skin burned at the touch, and I felt alive, my
veins pulsing like they never had before. He led the way to the
entrance, passes in hand. Terrance trailed not far behind us. He
didn’t look much like a bodyguard, dressed in jeans and a Blazers
t-shirt instead of a black suit that my brain pinned as the usual
bodyguard image. He was more like a stalker than anything, doing
none of the things men in his position did on TV.

To my surprise, after we rushed through
clearance, we remained on the first level, heading into the arena.
“We’re not sitting in some fancy box?” I asked, surveying the
immensity of the arena and all the seats, rows upon rows, layers
upon layers, climbing so high, I had to crane my neck to the point
that it seemed like I was looking straight up.

“Basketball is a different sport than
football,” he said, weaving through a group of people. We entered
the second row, where the seats were all black instead of red like
they were for most of the arena, and we sat in the very middle, on
the opposite side of where the players sat. “I like to be as close
to the action as possible. Those suites don’t have the atmosphere
that you can feel down here.” His eyes were bright and
excited—excited to be sharing something about himself with me, and
I could tell he really had a passion for the game.

I situated myself, folding Danielle’s coat
over the cushiony seat. “Did you ever play?”

“A little, when I was a kid, but nothing
serious, you know?” He looked at me and our eyes locked. “How about
you, did you play any sports?”

“I ran in high school.”

“Really? Makes sense with a body like
yours.”

I studied the seats, searching for Terrance,
and found the bodyguard a few rows behind us in the nicer red
seating just behind the fancy black seats. “I was pretty good, too.
I could’ve run in college if I had chosen a smaller school than U
of O, but that’s where Danielle was going, so that’s where I went
because I didn’t want to be alone.”

Vince didn’t look like he really understood
my reasoning, but nodded anyway. “Is that where you found your love
of baking? Does U of O have a prestigious culinary major?”

I laughed. “Not that I’m aware of. I majored
in sociology, with the intent of entering the social work field. I
discovered my love for cooking and baking my junior year at U of O
when I started working part-time at a bakery down in Eugene.”

“So did you drop out then?” He had
flawlessly gone into Q&A mode, and even though they were
standard get-to-know-you questions, he asked them with a singular
subtlety that put my nerves at ease. Our other conversations had
been so awkward it was hard to fathom how we had lost the nervous
tension so quickly into our brief relationship.

“No. I graduated.” I crossed my legs and
leaned closer to him, using the armrest between us. “I even got a
job as a case manager in an outreach program for homeless kids
involved in gangs, which you might think you need a Master’s degree
for, but you don’t. Anyway, after a few months I couldn’t take it
anymore, so I quit, and that’s when Danielle conjured up the idea
of culinary school. We had moved into the place we live now after U
of O, and I didn’t want to move away, so I looked into OCI
downtown, applied, got accepted, took out some more loans, and
there you go.”

“And there you go,” he said. He caressed my
hand with gentle strokes, playful. “Except you left out how you
ended up with your own business at 25. When Alma and I started
Imaginuity Solutions, we were a business in name only, until we got
lucky. You must’ve gotten pretty lucky too, I take it.”

My eyes broke the strong connection that had
my head swimming. I hung my head, grief still in my heart. “Not
luck,” I said, a lump in my throat. “My Grandma died in September.”
I barely got the words out. “She left me and my brother some money,
enough for me and Bridgett to start up Friends together.”

He stopped playing with my hand and
straightened a little. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You were close,
I take it?”

I nodded, holding back the tears from the
relatively fresh wound. “So, tell me about the Blazers,” I said,
needing a distraction as I breathed out a partially clogged
nose.

Vince got the hint. He started pointing to
the players that were warming up on the court. “That’s LaMarcus
Aldrige, number twelve.” He indicated one of the larger players.
“He’s my favorite player and has been with the Blazers his entire
playing career. That really big guy is Robin Lopez, nicknamed Rolo.
Don’t ask me how it caught on. I guess everybody needs a nickname.”
He went through the entire team, giving descriptions of what they
did on the team.

The lights went off around seven and the
announcer shouted off the starting Blazer lineup with enthusiasm. I
gathered from the visiting team’s purple and yellow jerseys that
they were the L.A. Lakers, largely due to the fact that they read
“LAKERS” on the front, but also because of Vince. I never even
opened the night’s program since he told me everything pertinent to
the game.