Ch 15 - Dinner For Two

A little weary and worn from her conversation with James, Rachel was nonetheless experiencing the thrill of anticipation when she pushed her shoulder against the hotel room door.  She had been looking forward to her bath and subsequent “dinner date” with Jon since she quit hating him for suggesting that she run this morning. 

I hate it when he’s right. 

Once the door closed behind her, the first thing she noticed was the huge bouquet of flowers.   There must have been at least three dozen long-stemmed roses spilling out of the crystal vase, part of them in full, glorious bloom while others were mere buds waiting for their chance in the limelight.  The deep shade of crimson appeared that much more dazzling against the backsplash of crisp white linen that cascaded from tabletop to floor. 

The dwindling daylight flooded through the window behind the table that had been set up in her absence, the amber rays glinting brightly against a metal ice bucket.  The wine chilling was one of her favorites, as were all the items on the accompanying gourmet fruit and cheese platter. 

The ivory card propped against the ice bucket left no doubt as to who was responsible for the room service.  

Dinner at 8 your time.

Until then, enjoy your bath.

See you soon~
JB

Rachel’s mouth curled into a coyly delighted smile as she carefully tucked the note under the edge of the platter.

Okay...  he can be right.  I’ll learn to live with it.

Jon had been notorious for knowing just how to undo the pressures of her day.  His magic had – more often than not – lent itself to drawing her a luxurious bubble bath in which to unwind, while feeding her a light snack and encouraging her to sip a glass of good wine.  

Rachel smiled as the tension oozed out of the stiff muscles at her neck and shoulders.   The fact that he’d remembered and cared enough to make the arrangements gave her a warm, fuzzy sensation deep down inside.  If his intention had been to make her feel cared for, he had succeeded in spades.

The wine’s cork having already been worked free by the fairy god-server that had set the scene, she poured a generous measure of her favorite vintage into a waiting glass and sipped.  She hummed her approval as soon as it hit her tongue.  It was good.  Very good. 

She happily popped a bite of cheese in her mouth and grabbed a couple of grapes, toeing off her heels as she did.  The room’s carpet squished between her toes as she steered herself contentedly toward the bathroom and its oversized tub. 

Her soles had just registered the coolness of the bathroom’s tile floor when Rachel’s attention was diverted from the tub to the vanity.  Waiting there on the marble countertop was a white box, the size of a toaster and bound with yards of white satin ribbon. 

Oh you are going all out, aren’t you? 

Popping the remaining grape in her mouth, she set the wine glass next to the package and turned on the taps to start filling the tub.  Call her silly, but she wanted to savor the gift for a moment before stripping it open.  It truly didn’t matter what was in the box, anyway.  She was enjoying the warm memories of Jon’s previous gifts:  silk pajamas,  keys to his homes. 

Things weren’t always bad.  He can be so thoughtfully sweet when he wants to be.

When the water was happily gurgling into the tub, Rachel took another sip of her wine and tugged at the behemoth bow that mummified the box.  Scads of white silk puddled to the vanity and she pulled the lid free.

Rachel smiled as her heart went ‘ferklumpt’ and she knew she was in trouble. 

It wasn’t anything pricey or exquisitely unique, but the gift was perfect – an assortment of bath products along with the softest pair of pajamas that had ever come in contact with her fingertips.  They were heather gray,  the top having a v-neckline  and spaghetti straps.  Even the lace that edged the neckline was soft, not scratchy like some lace could be. 

He had sent her the perfect prelude to their dinner and it filled her with the warmth that was Jon.  All the bad memories and hurt feelings seemed to fall away and she was left with the remembrance of the powerful love that had been theirs. 

Suddenly, she had no desire to linger in the tub as she usually did.  Despite the wonderful bath accoutrements, she was ready to fast forward with her evening – their evening.  Eight o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel was just tipping the room service waiter when the distinctive peal of an incoming Skype call rang in the air.  Without conscious thought, the polite smile that she’d pasted on for the waiter grew wide and genuine.  It was time for her date.

The waiter, however, presumed the smile was directed solely at him and returned it full force.  Of course the generous tip probably didn’t hurt.  “Thank you so much, Ms. Braden.  Enjoy your dinner.”

“I’m sure I will.  Have a good evening.”

Tossing her wallet on the bed, she slid into the chair behind her dinner plate and tapped the button to accept Jon’s call.

“I see you got your gift.” 

His smile was crooked, tipped up on the left side and mirroring the cocked angle of his head.  Elbows propped on a white linen-covered table that strongly resembled the one in front of her, and his fingertips traced absently along the rim of the partly-filled wineglass at his right hand.

Good heavens, he’s delicious.

He hadn’t gone to the trouble of “dressing” for their date, but seeing as he’d sent her pajamas, she hadn’t expected that he would.  And she wasn’t complaining.  At all.

That red t-shirt bearing the message “Easy” combined with his mussed hair was every bit as sexy – sexier – as a tuxedo and perfectly coiffed blond locks.  In fact...

She ran a restless, open palm up and down her neck. 

Well, the casually rumpled picture he made had Rachel feeling things she hadn’t felt in a long while. Tingly things.

I’d forgotten just how much I like to tingle. 

In the span of milliseconds, as she drank in the sight of him, the tingle danced its way through her body and her lips were starting to itch for that kiss he’d vowed not to take from her.  They were itching enough that she was seriously questioning her ability – and reasons – for resisting him.  It was quite possible that, if he looked like this the next time she saw him, she’d have him in a full-body-contact liplock in about two seconds flat.

Why don’t you give him five minutes’ opportunity to screw it up first?  Hmm?  There IS always that possibility, you know.

Dropping the restless hand from her throat to the lace-edged tank, Rachel used her mouth for its other purpose and formed actual words.

“Hello to you, too, Jon.   Yes, I did get my gift.  The bath things were divine and I love the pj’s.  But I also loved walking into my room at the end of the day to all your handiwork.  Thank you.   It was very sweet, and... I’m kinda impressed.”

His smile went from a crooked, close-mouthed grin to a slash of brilliant white teeth as he chuckled. 

“Glad you like approve.  Now pretend I’m pulling your chair out to seat you for dinner and pouring you another glass of wine.  But only a small glass since you’re becoming a raging alcoholic these days.”

Rachel couldn’t help herself.  She snorted. 

“You’re such a jerk.”

One shoulder lifted carelessly.  “Sometimes there just isn’t any way to sugar coat the truth.”

Dammit, she didn’t want to be amused by him, but she was.  That didn’t mean he was the only one who got to dish out playful jabs.

“Uh, excuse me.  Aren’t you the one who wanted to spend time together so that we might get back together?  I’ve gotta tell ya...  poking fun at my drinking tragedy isn’t scoring you a whole lot of points.”

His eyes lit up, crinkling at the corners as that infamous smile crept its way up his face.

“Drinking tragedy?  What the hell...?  I thought you were in real estate, not public relations!  Besides, I said ‘spend time’, not ‘build castles out of bullshit’.”

She rolled her eyes, an unwitting snicker slipping free.  “Wow.  You’ve got an elegant way with words, don’t you?”

Eventually the sarcastic banter fell away, collateral damage of their consideration for the rapidly cooling meals on their respective hotel tables.  Nearly identical suppers of green salad, grilled chicken and vegetables slowly disappeared along with the accompanying wine as they talked. 

There was no mention of the past or the future, merely a pleasant exchange about the present.  Jon was talking about the “trials and tribulations” of the Bongiovi kids, as per their last check-in a couple of hours ago.  Cars, girlfriends and dogs were the hot topics of the day in New Jersey and she enjoyed his accounts of the children’s seemingly insurmountable plights.

For her part, Rachel had been forced to good-naturedly concede his superior medical wisdom in all things alcohol related.  Because, despite the fact that the torturous process was so severe that it should require intervention from the Geneva Convention, running off a hangover had been astoundingly successful in flushing the toxins out of her system.

They had both finished with their food and Rachel was lingering with her wine, wondering if she should end the call.  The evening had been so pleasant thus far that she didn’t really want to.  She had truly missed his company and was reluctant to shorten their visit.  It felt like forever since she’d been this relaxed.

“So...”  Jon cleared his throat and leaned forward on his forearms with an engaging smile.  He didn’t seem anxious to end the call either, she was pleased to note.  “I know you said you’re busy this weekend, but it turns out we’re playing Sacramento next week….”

She smiled at his choice of words.  “It ‘turns out’ you’re playing Sacramento?  Like that’s a surprise that somebody snuck in on you?”

“Okay, fine.  By the way, we’re playing Sacramento next week.  And... since you’re not taking the hint and jumping at the chance to come to my show, I’ll go on to remind you that it’s also my birthday.  C’mon Rach, whaddaya say?   Come join me for a little birthday cake?”

Her stomach flip-flopped and those pleasant little tingles started firing back to life at his coaxing.  The persuasive wiggle of his eyebrows and the way he sucked a drop of wine from his index finger interfered with her brain waves.  She didn’t possess the mental capacity to make this decision.

”You hate your birthday,” she blurted dumbly.

“No.  I just hate a big fuss about my birthday.”

“No big fuss and yet you’ll get on a stage to perform in front of fifteen thousand people?  Who all know it’s your birthday?  No, you don’t want any attention.” 

“It’s actually closer to eighteen thousand people, but why split hairs over a few thousand?   It’s just another day at work and I don’t wanna debate the semantics.  C’mon, Rach...  I single-handedly got rid of your hangover this morning.  You’re not really gonna make me spend my birthday all alone, are ya?”

More amused than tingling by this point, Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head before looking back at the screen and Jon’s over-zealous smile.   She had given it her best shot, but not much had changed in their time apart.  He still weakened her with the power of Superman’s kryptonite and she found him as irresistible as ever – even if he was just a face on her computer screen.  Two-dimensional or three, it didn’t matter.  His charm was as potent as ever.

What will it be like when we’re in the same room again?  Dare I?

“If I come will you throw Elvis scarves at the ladies in the crowd?”

“You and that Elvis thing...”  He threw his head back and laughed toward the ceiling.  “Yeah, I can probably give a little nod to Elvis if that’s what it takes to get you there.  So…”  He leaned in close to the screen his eyes alight with optimism.  “Whaddaya say?  That’s a yes?”

Rachel couldn’t help but think that his delight was almost child-like and, as was the case with all charming children, denying him was impossible.  When he smiled at her with that look in his eyes... “Yeah.  I’ll be there.”

He squinted one eye distrustfully and pointed his index finger at the screen.  “You won’t bail on me, right?”

“No.  I’ll be there, Jon,” she assured him with an amused smile.  He was so tenacious.

Dropping the index finger, he exchanged it for another finger.  His eyes went from playful to solemn as he held up his pinky finger and quietly asked for more than words.  “Pinky swear?”

The light-heartedness of their evening evaporated in that single question, and the present was washed away by a wave of past memories. 

Pinky swear.

Two little, softly-spoken words filled her empty soul with the reminder of promises they’d made and the love they’d shared.  The earrings and necklace that represented their two intertwined fingers were still tucked safely at home in her jewelry box, but they had no dust on them.  She’d taken them out to look at often, wondering where they’d gone wrong.

He had asked her once before to trust him.  He encouraged her to jump headfirst into life with the certainty that he’d catch her before she hit the ground.  

And she had.

It didn’t work out too well, either.  Could this time be any different? 

The night Jon showed up at her house, he’d said they had unfinished business and Rachel felt that was true.  Speaking in performer’s terms, their show wasn’t over yet.  She wasn’t sure how it would ultimately play out – maybe she’d end up broken and battered again – but something remained between them and Rachel was anxious to find out what it was.

The show wasn’t over.  It was time for their encore.

“Pinky swear.”