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[personal profile] prance_legolas

Let me call you Sweetheart,
I'm in love with you....

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Chapter Twelve

She’d seen him pull up. He was driving a Mustang convertible — not one of the newer models, but a royal blue vintage one with white interior and the perfect backseat. Not that she’d be riding back there, mind you. She fully intended to behave herself tonight.

She was wearing THE dress, her absolute favorite. Long and sensually flowing with a slit up the right side past the knee, it had a navy blue base with a bright lime green floral print overtop. The tanktop-like sleeves and thin strip of a see-through seam lining the v-neck would reveal all the cleavage she needed to entice him if she were to lean over for something. She hung her matching lime green sweater over her arm, knowing it would get cool enough later for her to need it, but hoping against hope it wouldn’t.

She hurried over to the door, slipping on her strappy navy blue eveningwear sandals while she leaned against the wall, waiting for him to climb the steps and then knock. She held herself perfectly still, hoping to quiet her racing heart as she slowly took a deep breath and counted to ten.

When she opened the door, she thought for a minute there she’d died and gone straight to heaven.

He was wearing a navy blue sport coat over a blue-striped button-down oxford, the top two buttons open at the neck revealing the hollow place between his collarbones. She let her eyes wander down to take in his gray pleated trousers and dark brown leather penny loafers. She thought it was cute that he had even put shiny new pennies in both of the holes. Glancing back up, she caught him giving her the same appraisal she was giving him, only he was the one who got caught with his lips slightly parted and his pink tongue firmly bitten between his teeth.

She smiled. He blushed and ducked his head.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hae,” he whispered back, embarrassed.

“You look nice,” she continued.

He blushed some more before answering, “U luuk nise tuu.” Even the tips of his ears were turning pink in the foyer light. He peeked up at her then, through his long lashes. Smiling, he added, “Le na vanima. Dat meenz u ar beeuwteeful.”

It was her turn to blush.

“Oeh... deze ar fur u,” he added, pulling a bouquet of lavender lilacs, white sweet peas, ivy tendrils, and three beautiful blue iris flowers from behind his back.

On to Chapter Thirteen
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December 2006

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