Beneath, You're Beautiful Read online

  “Going all philosophical on me now?” I teased.

  “You started it, I just followed suit.”

  “Touché. So, I was doing the math, and you must be around thirty-five, correct?”

  “I’m thirty-seven, and if my memory is correct, you’re thirty-two?”

  “Good memory. However, I’ll be thirty-three in June,” I smiled before taking another sip of my beverage.

  “I have a few months to plan something special then,” he winked.

  I choked on my drink and started coughing uncontrollably. Blake sat up and reached over to pat me on the back. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” I coughed. “You just caught me off-guard with your comment. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  He stopped patting my back but didn’t move his hand. “I guess I shouldn’t think out loud. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “You didn’t—I’m just new at whatever this is, and I’m not really sure how to act.”

  “Well then, we’re both in the same boat. I didn’t expect to be in this situation either, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed.” He removed his hand from my back and sat back in his chair. I felt the loss instantly and wished he would have kept it there. It was comforting and a bit frightening to be feeling that way.

  “I hope I wasn’t overconfident in thinking you would want to get to know me. I completely went about this the wrong way. It was insensitive of me to move you to Dr. McGuire’s care without consulting with you first. I’m sorry that I didn’t think about that and put you in an awkward spot, considering all you’re going through.” He looked toward the fire and shook his head.

  I placed my hand on his arm, which was resting on the armrest. “No, you haven’t. My brain isn’t functioning on all cylinders, and I just need to process things a bit more than usual. You weren’t insensitive in the least, and I’m glad you did the responsible thing by moving my care to Dr. McGuire. I really do like her, and I’m sure she will do an amazing job as my doctor.” I hesitated a moment before asking the one question I was dying to ask: “Why me?”

  Blake looked at me with wonder and admiration in his eyes. “Because you’re you. You aren’t afraid to be afraid. You have courage and determination, and you find the good when you’re surrounded by the bad. You’re a light in a darkening world. But most of all, you have something I’ve yet to see in a woman other than my mother: you exude true beauty in every facet of the word.”

  My mouth was hanging open, and I felt the color rush to my cheeks. “You don’t hold back, do you?”

  “Not when something beautiful is right in front of me,” he stated with a sincere smile. “That doesn’t happen every day, and I’m not about to let the opportunity pass me by . . . unless there isn’t one. Which leads to my next question: has this little coffee chat earned me the opportunity to ask you on a proper date?”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to go out on a date looking like I do. I mean, look at me—I’m the poster girl for breast cancer, and everywhere I go, people give me a sympathetic look.” I relaxed my shoulders, tilted my head to the side, and mimicked the look perfectly, including the pitiful puppy-dog eyes.

  “All I see is a beautiful, courageous woman with eyes the color of rich dark chocolate and candy pink lips. I would be honored to be with you anywhere, but if it would make you feel more comfortable, I would love to make you dinner at my place, or I could bring dinner to you?”

  He wasn’t even giving me the chance to say no—not that I wanted to at this moment. The fact I was sitting here with him at all was a damn miracle in and of itself. He was an extremely attractive and intelligent man who could have any woman he wanted, yet here he was, sitting with a damaged-looking me. I saw the genuineness in his eyes, and I knew he meant every word he said. He saw me and not the broken woman on the outside. It took my breath away, and I needed a moment to think.

  I gazed down at my feet that were propped up on the hearth of the fireplace and started questioning myself. How could I be feeling this way toward my doctor, and was it wrong that I was? Granted he wasn’t my doctor anymore, but was it okay to date someone so soon after he left and while I was actively going through treatment for cancer? What are the rules about this?

  “There are no rules,” Blake responded to my silent question.

  With a startled look on my face, I glanced over to see him smiling from ear to ear. He looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. “You may have been whispering your questions out loud, and the last question seemed like the most appropriate one to answer. There are no rules. We make them up as we go and see where we end up.”

  “Rule number one . . . no more mind reading or eavesdropping when I’m thinking. And, yes, I would very much enjoy having dinner with you . . . at your place, as a friend.” Holy shit. Did I really just agree to dinner that easily? I needed to check the side effects listed on some of my meds when I got home.

  “Let’s see, if I recall your chemo schedule correctly, you have it this Friday, right?”

  “Yes, I have it on Friday afternoon, which means I wouldn’t be good company until Monday at the very earliest. The paclitaxel treatments are much more tolerable than the ‘Red Devil,’ and my recovery isn’t as bad.”

  “That’s great. What would you say to dinner at my house before chemo? Does Thursday night at 6:30 work?”

  “Thursday night sounds great—I like to stock up on calories before chemo because I tend to lose my appetite for a few days.”

  “Are there any foods that you’re having an adverse reaction too or can’t stomach? I know your taste buds are a little out of sorts right now.”

  I found his question, sadly, quite amusing; how many men would honestly think to ask that question? “I try to avoid onions and garlic, otherwise I haven’t had many issues.”

  “I’ll grill up a couple of steaks with a few sides, and you can pick and choose what you want.” He grabbed his phone. “What’s your mobile number so I can text you my address? That way I know you won’t misplace it.” He winked, and my heart began beating a little faster.

  I gave him my number and a few seconds later, I heard the message ping. I opened the message and smiled at his address. “You’re just a few blocks away from me. I’d walk if it wasn’t so cold.”

  “In a few months, you can walk over or maybe I’ll find my way to your house.” He hesitated before adding, “Crap, I did it again, being presumptuous.”

  “I’d like that . . . very much.” I stood to pull my coat on. Blake jumped up to grab it and helped me slide it on. Such a gentleman.

  “It’s good to see you moving so well with the expanders, I know they’re getting more and more uncomfortable with each fill. From what Dr. McGuire tells me, you only have one more left and then you can schedule surgery. It will be worth it, I promise.”

  “Checking up on me, Dr. Forrester?” I smiled as I tied the belt around my coat. “Good to know it’ll be worth it since there’s no turning back now.”

  He held out his hand, signaling for me to go ahead as he followed me to my car.

  “Thank you for meeting me this morning. I’m really looking forward to dinner on Thursday,” he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek before opening my car door and ushering me in. “Have a good week.”

  The drive home was quick as my mind was busy replaying the last hour of conversation with Blake. I was definitely intrigued by him and intent on getting to know him better. He was sincere and thoughtful. And the little peck on the cheek still had my heart singing. While it was simple and pure, with no expectations, it held meaning unlike any other kiss I had ever received. There was so much more to it than what I allowed my head to process. It was almost too much. Almost.

  Chapter Two

  I AM HOPEFUL

  The next few days were fairly quiet as Jen was traveling for business; she was a security specialist and often got called out on private jobs. Before she left, she briefly asked me how my coffee “date” was. I w
asn’t really sure how much I wanted to share with my friends right now because they were intent on pushing me into a relationship that I wasn’t convinced I was ready for. Thankfully she knew me well enough to not push the issue when I told her it was not a big deal, and “We just casually talked about ourselves,” which thankfully she seemed to accept. I should have known better.

  I tried to keep busy with slowly redesigning my house and finally gave in to Bobbie Jo’s insistence to meet for lunch on Wednesday. Big mistake.

  From the moment I walked in the door of the corner bistro, she sounded like a gossip magazine writer, digging for every detail and not caring if she was pissing me off. “I don’t believe that for one minute,” Bobbie Jo accused as she took a sip of her Bellini. “You were gone for well over an hour. Spill it.”

  “Like I said, there’s nothing to spill,” I insisted. “We met for coffee, had a casual conversation, and we left at the same time. You are making this out to be more than it is, so just stop it.”

  “I don’t believe you. I’ll get to the bottom of this, and you know I will.” She smiled smugly.

  “Consider the pool empty. There is nothing in it other than a Baby Ruth bar at the bottom like in the movie Caddyshack. So move on.” I wasn’t about to tell her that he kissed me briefly on the cheek and that I was meeting him for dinner at his house tomorrow night. I wasn’t ready to share that little tidbit, and besides, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her . . . right?

  *

  It was six o’clock Thursday night, and I was already dressed and ready to go to dinner at Blake’s. My tummy had been full of butterflies since noon when I went for a massage to try and relax. It didn’t work. Instead, it just gave me an hour of quiet time to obsess about everything Blake related. When my massage was finished, I checked my phone and noticed a text from him.

  Looking forward to dinner tonight.

  See you in a few hours . . .

  Blake

  I was sunk because he had officially taken over my brain and, I had to admit, a small part of my heart with his sweetness. He was too good to be true, which made me question if he was for real. Was this all some chemo-drug-induced fantasy playing out in my mind?

  Me too. See you soon.

  Victoria

  I arrived at Blake’s house a few minutes early and noticed the warm lights on inside giving off a soft glow. His home was a breathtaking two-story stone house; it was timeless. I sat for a few moments in my car, taking in the beauty of it, when I noticed the front door was open, and he was leaning against the doorframe watching me.

  As I got out of my car, I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I walked up his path to the front door. “Good evening,” he smirked as he invited me in. “I thought maybe you were having second thoughts waiting in the car.”

  “No, just admiring the architecture of your home. Did you build it?”

  “I did. A friend of mine was the builder, so I was able to be more hands-on in the project design.”

  I looked around the two story foyer. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. It was a labor of love and turned out better than I had hoped.” He reached for the bottle of wine I held in my hand. “Let me take that and hang your coat.”

  “Thank you.” I handed him a bottle of wine and slipped my coat off my shoulders. “I hope you like Malbec. I was told it pairs well with beef.”

  He studied the bottle from a local winery. “Yes, I do, thank you, it looks wonderful. I wasn’t sure if you were drinking or not. Some people have issues with alcohol during chemo.”

  “I haven’t tempted fate and tried yet. However, I might be game for a glass as a celebration of being more than halfway through. This last treatment wasn’t nearly as rough as the first four.”

  “I’m happy to hear this combination was easier on you, but don’t feel like you need to have a glass on my account.” He put his hand on the small of my back and steered me toward the kitchen. “I’m almost finished preparing the salad. You can keep me company, and then I’ll give you the tour.”

  The kitchen was a striking combination of light and dark. The hardwood floor was stained a dark brown, almost black, and it was a stark contrast to the beige walls, cream cabinets, and white woodwork. It had a modern feel with Old World style. A large three-sided fireplace was the focal point between the kitchen, casual dining area, and family room.

  I made myself comfortable on one of the stools at the breakfast bar while Blake finished slicing up some pears to put in the salad. We talked about his love of cooking and the design of his kitchen. I was anxious to redo parts of my house, the kitchen being at the top of the list. He added walnuts and a dressing that appeared to be homemade before giving it a quick toss. “Okay, everything’s all set. Ready for the tour?”

  “More than you know—I’m in designer heaven. Your home is beautiful.”

  He smiled as he helped me off the stool. “Why don’t you lead the way?”

  I was surprised by his request. “Me? You want me to lead the way? I’ve never been here.”

  “Follow your instinct, like you’re touring a model home. It makes it more fun for me to see where you take us. Think of it as a little adventure.” He winked. “So, where to?”

  The interior designer inside me came roaring back to life, and I was excited to discover what was behind every corner. I hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. Design always brought out the passion in me, and I had missed it these last several months.

  I gazed around my surroundings, trying to figure out where to start. His home had an open and inviting floor plan. The main level also held a study with a small library and a formal dining room. I started toward the stairs and arrived in a cozy sitting area that was open to the family room below. There were two bedrooms that shared a “Jack and Jill” bathroom as well as a master suite.

  I gasped as we entered the master suite. “This is exquisite.” It carried the same color scheme as the rest of the house, but the choice of fabrics, fixtures, and furniture gave it a romantic but masculine feel. A black-and-white decorative rug covered the dark wood floor and a chandelier hung from the ceiling above a king-size upholstered sleigh bed. The European bedding matched the rich cream-colored fabric of the bed and had black accents on the pillows and duvet. The finishing touch was a black-and-white striped fabric bench that sat at the foot of the bed.

  “I’m glad you approve . . . from a designer’s standpoint, of course.”

  “Your designer has done an incredible job. She carried continuity in the overall design of each room. There is at least one piece that ties everything together. The blend of masculinity and softness is flawless. This room is my favorite.”

  “You should see the bathroom. My designer told me it was every woman’s dream. I have yet to be able to ask someone, though, other than her,” he confessed as he walked toward the door leading to the master bath. “Would you indulge me with your opinion?”

  When I entered the cream-and-beige tiled bathroom, my jaw hit the floor. On my left was a double-size Jacuzzi tub surrounded by candles and directly across on my right was a frosted glass wall that turned out to be the biggest shower I had ever seen. A large tile bench ran the length of the back wall, and there were at least a dozen shower heads coming out from the wall in addition to the rainfall one above. I swear you could fit a party of ten in there.

  Straight ahead, past the shower and tub, was a circular cushioned ottoman. Beyond that were two sinks and a seated vanity along the curved wall. A large chandelier hung above, and there were several high windows that gave the room natural lighting. As I walked further into the room, I noticed that the floor beneath my feet was warm, and I looked at Blake questioningly. “The floor is radiant heated,” he responded.

  “Wow.” I plopped down on the ottoman and took it all in.

  “You like it?”

  “I love it! Your designer was right—this is definitely a dream bathroom. I could get lost in here for a few hours.”

 
“The ottoman can be moved out of the bathroom to make room for a massage table. My designer thought of everything.”

  I let out an unintentional groan, which garnered a sexy smirk from Blake. “You’re going to have to physically remove me from this room,” I said. “I could stay here all night.”

  “As much as I would enjoy letting you stay in here all night, I need to feed you. It isn’t a proper date if we don’t have dinner.”

  I was almost teary as we left the bathroom and headed back downstairs to the kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?” Blake asked as I sat back down on the stool I had vacated earlier.

  “What are my choices?”

  Walking over to the French-doored refrigerator, he opened the left side to reveal an entire selection of beverages. Soda, water, juices, energy drinks, beer, and other alcoholic beverages lined the shelves. “Pretty much anything you desire.”

  “Hmm,” I walked over to look. He had everything organized and in sections so it was easy to see my options. I reached out and grabbed a can of sparkling cranberry juice. “Is this any good? I’ve never had it before.”

  Blake looked over my shoulder. “One of my favorites—let me grab a glass and pour it over ice.”

  We continued to talk while he prepared dinner, and the conversation flowed easily. He had set the dining room table for us to eat at, but I suggested eating at the breakfast bar instead. I liked the relaxed feeling of it, and I felt comfortable . . . until he sat next to me and his leg rubbed against mine, causing my heart to skip a few beats.

  Blake made me feel normal. It was like we had known each other for longer than a few months, and I forgot that I was a woman with breast cancer. He never asked how I was feeling or discussed my treatments, which was refreshing. My life had revolved around cancer for what felt like forever. It was nice to just be Victoria.

  I was determined to clean up the kitchen after dinner, even though Blake attempted to shoo me away. “You cooked, so I’ll clean up. It’s only fair.” He didn’t argue after he saw the determined look on my face.