February 1998
A week later, Robin was preparing to go to Napoleon's for dinner. She'd invited Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda to her place beforehand so they could chat.
Samantha handed out drinks from the kitchen as Robin turned and showed off her outfit, which was all from DKNY, since she'd decided to be more casual because they weren't going out. She thought the orange clay-colored utility joggers and cropped ivory sweater paired nicely with the black mesh bomber jacket she'd chosen.
"Wear these!" Carrie called as she emerged from Robin's closet and rejoined them in the living room.
She was holding a pair of black wedge sneakers. Robin nodded her approval and took them, sitting down to put them on and blowing Samantha a kiss as she brought her a gin and tonic.
"No jewelry at all?" Carrie asked for the fourth time, making Robin laugh.
"None, Carrie," Robin assured her, winking.
Her make-up was also very minimal and done in earth tones. She'd piled her hair on top of her head in her usual messy bun. The only accessory she was going to carry was a wrist bag embossed with a crocodile pattern in a lovely mustard color. She grabbed it and checked its contents one more time as she sipped her drink.
"That's all you're bringing?" Samantha wondered. "Aren't you staying the night?"
"I don't think so. I get the feeling that he wants to take it slow."
"That's smart," Charlotte decided. "You have to be careful about how quickly you sleep with a man, or he won't be serious about you."
"That's an assumption we'll have to unpack later," Robin laughed.
"Maybe he's even going to ask you to marry him before you have sex," Charlotte persisted.
Robin blinked. "No one is talking about marriage yet, Char."
"He did," Charlotte reminded her. "Maybe he'll move fast."
"I'm not in a hurry," Robin protested. "I'd prefer to keep that kind of pressure off of the whole situation for now."
"Especially considering the other day," Miranda chimed in, referring to the fashion show. "Are you going to ask why he was so shitty?"
"I don't know. I still haven't decided if we should just move past it."
"You shouldn't," Charlotte advised her firmly. "You can't start a marriage with secrets."
"We're not getting married, Charlotte," Robin pointed out patiently.
"Whatever happens, don't forget to have fun," Samantha cut in.
"I agree with Samantha," Carrie gave her two cents. "Just play it by ear and see what happens. You don't need a big plan. And don't forget that we're going to a movie later, so if you're done with Napoleon before then, you should join us."
They finished their drinks and headed down to the lobby. Robin gave them all hugs and kisses before packing them into a cab so they could go out for the evening.
Right on cue, a very fancy car pulled up to the curb. Robin smirked as Napoleon got out of it, grinning from ear to ear. He was clearly quite pleased to be showing it off.
"One of the sports cars you mentioned?" she guessed.
"Indeed," he confirmed as he opened the passenger door for her.
He took her hand to help her in, but she didn't bend just yet. "What is it? I know absolutely nothing about cars, but I can sense that you're dying to tell me."
He chuckled. "I really am. It's an Aston Martin DB7 Volante."
"Well, I've heard of Aston Martin, at least," she admitted. "It's very fancy, Napoleon. I am thoroughly dazzled."
"Thank you, Robin." He shut her door and walked around to the driver's side. "It's good to see you," he mentioned.
His eyes roamed over her sweater, which bared her stomach and hugged her breasts so tightly that the fabric thinned whenever she breathed.
"That looks amazing on you," he murmured.
"Thank you, Napoleon."
He licked his lips and briefly shook his head to clear it. "Tell me what you and your friends are discussing this week," he requested.
"I've got the perfect thing. Carrie spent the weekend in the Hamptons with a couple she knows, and when she woke up one morning, the husband was just hanging out in the hallway with no underwear on."
Napoleon raised an eyebrow. "An accident?"
"Definitely not. And he'd clearly done it before, based on the wife's reaction. General consensus is that he was just showing it off, because it was big. He didn't even acknowledge it, though."
"Since you brought it up, may I ask a potentially crass question, Robin?"
She turned her head and looked at him curiously. "You can ask me anything you'd like, Napoleon. If I don't want to answer, I'll tell you."
"I like that rule." He licked his lips. "How much does size actually matter to you?"
She giggled. "It's far more important to me that a man is an attentive and skilled lover. In fact, size only complicates things if he has no idea what he's doing. That being said, I do enjoy a larger man."
"What constitutes larger?" he mused softly.
She blushed. "Anything between seven and ten inches."
"That's very specific."
"I have enough experience to be specific."
He flushed and reached up to loosen his tie as they arrived at his building's private garage. He parked and walked around to open her door, taking her hand to help her out of the car, admiring her whole outfit again as he did.
"Why are you so dressed up, by the way?" she questioned. "Not that I don't appreciate it. I just thought we'd be more casual since we're eating in."
"I had a photo shoot today. They let me leave in the suit, since my suits never fit anyone else."
She beamed at him as he put a hand on the small of her back to lead her to the elevator. "Shoulders too broad and arms too big?" she mused.
"Indeed," he confirmed.
He pressed the button for the penthouse, then pulled a key out of his pocket, inserting it into the elevator to grant him access.
"How exclusive, Napoleon," she whispered, inching closer to him.
She was suddenly quite warm, and the urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming. But she'd promised herself she'd behave, partially because of what she'd said to her friends earlier, that she thought Napoleon wanted to take it slow, and partially because she was hoping he'd talk about the fashion show before they got to anything intimate.
He coughed to clear his throat. It was apparent that he was feeling the same way, though he also wasn't acting on it. As the elevator dinged to indicate that they had reached their destination, he advised, "Stand behind me. My dog, Cowboy, is very large and enthusiastic."
She slipped behind him, glancing down at his ass. Even covered by the flap of his jacket, it was exquisite.
"What kind of dog do you have?"
"He's an American Akita."
Right on cue, the doors slid open and revealed a large black and white dog waiting for them. He cocked his head and huffed as if he'd been sitting there forever, making them both laugh.
"And he's got a bit of a personality," Napoleon scoffed, bending to scratch the dog behind the ears. "Good boy," he praised him when he didn't bark or jump. "Yes, you're being very good. This is Robin. She's very nice."
Robin squatted beside Napoleon and held her hand out for Cowboy to smell. "Hi, Cowboy," she greeted him. "It's lovely to meet you."
"I'm sorry," Napoleon apologized. "I didn't ask if you're a dog person."
Before she could answer, Cowboy finished sniffing her hand and immediately snuggled against her. She hugged him around the neck, kissing him and petting him. "I've never had my own dog, but I like them," she assured him. "And he's just a big marshmallow," she cooed, giving Cowboy another kiss. "You've clearly trained him well too."
"They're aggressive if you don't establish dominance early on, but very loyal to the people they consider family."
Robin ruffled Cowboy's fur one more time before standing again. Napoleon offered her his arm and she took it. "Let me give you the tour."
Cowboy trailed after them. "He comes everywhere with me," Napoleon continued to explain. "It's hard to consistently see family and friends because of my schedule. I film my show here in New York for most of the year, but during the summers I usually star in movies, and that can take me anywhere. And I can't always get away for holidays and special occasions, though I do my best. It can be very exhausting, and very lonely."
She gazed at him sympathetically. Then they emerged from the hallway into a huge open space with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. He paused to let her take in the view.
"It's amazing, Napoleon."
"I know," he responded matter-of-factly.
When she glanced back at him again, he was looking directly at her. She rolled her eyes. "That is the oldest trick in the book," she chastised him.
"Did you like it?"
Her cheeks turned pink and she bit her lip as she smiled. "Yes," she revealed contritely.
"I thought so," he declared smugly. "Obviously, this is the main area."
There were no walls, but his furniture separated the wide expanse into several obvious quadrants. There was a living room, a dining room, and a smaller sitting area that was clearly meant for reading. The kitchen had every amenity she could have imagined. A gorgeous coffee-colored herringbone wood floor added a touch of elegance to everything.
He led her back down the hallway in the other direction and showed her the bedroom. The view in it was just as impressive, and she couldn't help noticing that he had a huge bed that was more than big enough for the two of them, though she didn't mention it.
His bathroom was gorgeous. He had double sinks and a huge soaker tub in addition to a shower. He also showed her a guest room with its own bathroom, and another bedroom that had been set up as an office.
"It's an absolutely beautiful apartment, Napoleon," she observed as they returned to the kitchen.
He pulled out a chair at the island and gestured for her to sit. She did and he moved around the counter, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking it off, then trading it for an apron. He removed his tie and unbuttoned his collar, then rolled up his sleeves to bare his toned forearms and the dark hair on them. She raised an eyebrow as she noticed that he'd left his vest on. She thought about asking if he wanted to change, but decided not to bring it up because she was enjoying the view.
"Thank you, Robin. There's a gym and pool in the building, so it's convenient to do my workouts, and the people who live here are used to me by now, so I'm usually not bothered. It's nice to have a comfortable place to call home when I'm working."
He removed a bottle from his wine fridge and grabbed a corkscrew to open it. She watched appreciatively as his muscles flexed. "Dinner and a show, hmm?"
He shrugged and winked at her. "Wine, Robin?"
"Please."
He poured her a glass and handed it to her over the island. She swirled it and smelled it before taking a sip. "Mmm. That's very good. Muscadet?"
"It is. It will go well with the mussels."
"Mussels?" she repeated excitedly. "I love mussels."
"Good," he sighed in relief. "I was worried you wouldn't, so I had three back-ups planned."
"You could have just asked, Napoleon," she giggled.
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"Well, I'm a very adventurous eater," she assured him.
"You came to the right place, then. The city, I mean. I like cooking, but I've only mastered a few dishes."
"I could help. I'm quite an accomplished home cook."
"Next time," he decided. "This time is my treat for you."
She perked up hopefully. "There's going to be a next time?"
"I hope so," he confessed.
"I hope so too."
Her cheeks flushed as she took another sip of wine, then draped her bomber jacket over the back of her chair and settled in to watch him cook for her.
As he started to prep, he resumed their conversation from earlier. "What else have you and your friends been talking about lately, besides Carrie's surprise flashing?"
"Mmm," she hummed against her glass. "Samantha thinks that married people see single people as the enemy."
"Enemy seems rather strong."
He melted butter, then chopped onions and garlic to begin his sauce before putting ciabatta slices in the oven to toast as she elaborated. "Samantha says it's because married women are afraid single women are going to sleep with their husbands."
"I think that says more about a person's relationship than anything outside of it."
"I'm inclined to agree. You can't tempt someone who doesn't want to be tempted. And I think that if you want out of your relationship, you should just get out of it. It seems like a lot of people who cheat, or think about cheating, are hoping they'll get caught and force the issue."
Napoleon stirred Greek yogurt into the sauce forming on the stove, added seafood stock and lemon juice, then added the mussels. The lovely smell of fresh ocean began to fill the room, mingled with the huge pile of herbs he started chopping on a cutting board.
Robin sniffed experimentally. "Cilantro, dill, mint, parsley, and..."
She trailed off and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Tarragon," he supplied. "I'm going to use scallions as well. You have a good nose."
"I do my best. It sounds delicious." She paused to take another drink. "The idea of marrieds being wary of singles led to a discussion of how all they seem to want is to fix their single friends up. Some of Carrie's friends introduced her to a man who only seems to care about getting married recently. As in he doesn't even care who he marries, as long as he marries someone. She contends that a man actually wanting to get married makes him elusive."
"I'm elusive, am I?" he joked.
"Apparently. But I can't imagine you're just going to marry the first available person who also wants to get married. If that was the case, you'd be married already."
"Very true, Robin. I would like to be at least a little more discerning than that."
She dropped the topic, not wanting to get into the idea of marriage too much. They had just started dating, if that was even what they were doing. Right now, an argument could reasonably be made that they were merely hanging out. And she still didn't know exactly what her long-term romantic goals were. She didn't want to lead him on by making him think she'd decided anything.
Luckily, he was distracted by dinner being ready. He separated the mussels into two large bowls, then took the bread and artfully stuck the slices in each bowl to soak up the broth. He set hers in front of her, refilled both of their wine glasses, then took off his apron before sitting down beside her.
She tried one of the mussels and some of the bread. "Oh my goodness," she exclaimed. "That's divine."
"I'm glad to have your approval, Robin."
She chewed and looked at him thoughtfully, deciding to turn the discussion back to a previous idea. "You probably can't get fixed up as an actor, right?"
"It's difficult when you're so recognizable, yes. Either someone accepts the date because they already know about you, or they're told you're a celebrity and they look you up. It can make it difficult to organically get to know someone when they've already done research and think they know everything about you. The alternative is not to tell them who they're meeting, but then you totally blindside them when you arrive." He popped a mussel into his mouth. "Do you get fixed up a lot?"
"No. I've, well, never had many friends until now, so it hasn't really been an issue."
He reached out and smoothed a tendril of loose hair over her ear. "I'm glad you have friends now, Robin, but I certainly hope they're not fixing you up with anyone else."
"Not yet," she promised him coyly.
She didn't want him to think she was too easy, especially after the fashion show, but he was making her feel giddy. It was hard to dwell on the past too much when he was being so charming right now.
The mussels were so good that it didn't take them long to eat at all, and they were mostly silent because they were enjoying eating. When she finished, she told him, "Everything was lovely, Napoleon. Thank you. Next time I'm going to cook for you. Or we'll at least cook together."
"I'd like that."
She insisted on helping him clean up, so it didn't take long. Once they were done, they each refilled their wine glasses one more time to polish off the bottle and went to sit on his couch and watch the lights turn on all over the city.
He put an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, he turned his head and bent until their noses were touching, slowly turning from side to side so his brushed against hers.
Her breath caught in her throat. It was a soft, sweet gesture, and even though she was a woman who'd stopped concerning herself with soft and sweet a long time ago, she found that she adored it.
He set his wine glass down, then took hers from her fingers gently, setting it down too. His fingers moved to her chin and tilted it up.
"I'd like to kiss you, Robin," he requested, his voice deep and husky.
"Please, Napoleon," she breathed.
He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb as he leaned in the rest of the way and captured her lips with his. She rested her hands against his chest and melted into him, so he put his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer until she was almost sitting in his lap on the couch.
She kissed him back, though she still let him take the lead. He opened his mouth against hers and deepened the kiss, his hand falling to caress her hip with his fingers as his tongue curled into her mouth. When it caressed hers, she moaned and slid her hand up into his hair, tugging on it slightly.
Their lips and tongues met over and over as their heavy panting echoed in his cavernous apartment. Neither of them thought about anything except how the other felt and tasted.
He only pulled back when both of them couldn't go any longer without breathing. He still hovered for a moment, tenderly kissing her lower lip, then the upper before he separated from her completely.
Her breasts were heaving alluringly in her tight sweater, and he couldn't help staring, completely mesmerized by the sight.
She didn't even notice as she tried to regain her bearings. "Do you always kiss like that?" she gasped, fanning herself.
"While I like to think I'm not a bad kisser, it's never been quite like that, no."
She pulled her glasses off and showed them to him. "You fogged my lenses up."
He grinned sheepishly as she giggled. "You're rather addictive, Robin."
"I can't say that I mind."
She bit her lip. She was very tempted to see if he'd let her stay, but she also didn't want to push. He was a celebrity, and he had to be used to people throwing themselves at him. She didn't want to seem like some sort of groupie. She was a fan, of course, but she hadn't been obsessed with him before they met or anything.
Finally, he let out a long breath and smiled at her regretfully. "I'd ask you to stay longer, Robin, but I'm afraid I might give in if I do that."
"You'd like to take it slow?"
She phrased it like a question, even though she already knew the answer.
"I would," he acknowledged. "Thank you for understanding. And please, let me drop you back at home."
"Actually, my friends are planning to see a late movie. Would you mind dropping me at the theater?"
"Not at all."
She grabbed her jacket and gave Cowboy a goodbye kiss, then let Napoleon lead her back to his car. As he drove, Napoleon couldn't resist reaching over and putting his hand on her thigh. She put hers over his and squeezed it reassuringly so he knew it was okay.
He pulled up to the curb beside her destination, then turned to look at her. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then his lips, making sure to keep it chaste and sweet.
"Thank you for a lovely evening, Napoleon."
"You're very welcome, Robin. I'll call you as soon as I can. And thank you, by the way. For being so understanding about my schedule. I would have seen you many more times by now if I wasn't so busy."
"It's all right, Napoleon. I'm flattered by the time you do give me."
"Enjoy your movie."
"I will."
She slipped out of the car so he didn't have to brave the New York traffic flying by on his side, waving at her friends, who were gathered outside the entrance. Charlotte immediately looked at her hands and Robin rolled her eyes, holding them up to show them off as she joined them.
"Still empty," she pointed out archly.
"He's going to ask you soon. Just watch."
"So, how'd it go?" Samantha wondered.
"He showed me his fancy car and made me dinner. Mussels. They were so good. And then we kissed," she mentioned nonchalantly.
They all oohed and aahed and Carrie leaned against her. "And how was it?"
"I've never been kissed like that. It was intense. I can guarantee I'm going to dream about it."
"Did he bring up the fashion show at all?" Miranda broke in.
Carrie smacked her shoulder playfully. "Miranda! Don't ruin her first kiss buzz!"
Miranda shrugged. "What? I'd like an explanation for why he acted like that. It's a bad sign, like Charlotte said."
Robin didn't weigh in this time. The truth was that she still wanted an explanation too, despite the wonderful evening she'd just had. But now she was worried that too much time had passed for her to bring it up without sounding like she was nagging.
"We got tickets already," Carrie chirped, giving Robin hers. Robin smiled at her gratefully for directing the conversation away from Napoleon. "Now, more importantly, what are your snacks?"
"Junior Mints and popcorn with tons of butter," Robin replied decisively.
"Can we share the popcorn?" Miranda suggested. "I like it with butter too."
"Of course."
They went inside and got into the line for concessions. Robin stayed leaning against Carrie and linked an arm through Miranda's.
While that one detail of her time with Napoleon was still bothering her, she had so much to be grateful for, and for the moment, she was just going to focus on that.