THREE: Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You [FLASHBACK]

As she pulled her 1983 Cutlass into the parking lot, Charity Donimari felt butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. It was late and at the age of sixteen, she had never been to a club before. She'd offered to run an errand for her dad who was on the other side of the country in his semi. In her hand was an envelope of cash that had to be turned in to Bruce McLeod, a man she'd met once and couldn't stop thinking about. The way he'd looked at her when he'd kissed her hand had made her feel different and had been disappointed when Vic had practically dragged her away.

Charity had literally jumped at the chance to see Bruce again. Vic had instructed to make the drop and head back to their apartment. Well, her dad was thousands of miles away and if she was a little late getting back, he wouldn't know.

Getting out of her car, she felt a little exposed in her choice of attire. She'd chosen a green plaid mini-skirt that zipped up the front, a cropped gray sweater that showed off her stomach, black nylons that went past her knees, and black boots. Her blonde hair was down with some wave to it and make-up had been applied to her face, making her look a few years older. With the envelope of cash in hand, she followed a group of patrons who were heading into the club. At the entrance she spotted the man that she was there to see. Letting out a deep breath, she put a smile on her face and walked over to where Bruce was.

"Mr. McLeod?" She said as she tapped him on the shoulder, holding the envelope in front of her.

He turned, eyes going wide as he took her in. There was a cigarette dangling between his lips, the smoke wafting up and circling his head like a halo. A smile grew, making ashes drop from the end of the cancer stick before he reached up and snatched it away, flicking it into coffee can at his feet. "Hello, lovely." There was a hint of recognition in his eyes as they roved over her again before fixing on her face. "What can I do ya for?"

"It's uh... Charity, Vic's daughter?" She extended her hand to shake his hand. "We met a few weeks back? I was with my dad." The butterflies in her stomach were flapping wildly and her cheeks went a bit red when Bruce looked at her. "It was at that diner? In Buffalo?"

"Aye." He chuckled at her embarrassment, nodding. "An' ya think I'd forget a face like yours?" He let that question hang for a moment before asking another. "And you're here... why?"

Her eyes widened a bit as she felt put on the spot. "Th... um this." She held the envelope up for him to see. Mentally she cursed herself for fumbling over her words. "My dad had to go out on another run tonight and he asked me to bring this to you." She held it out towards him, feeling dismayed when he stared at her as though she was insane. This had been a mistake and she was feeling foolish. "That's all."

He snatched the envelope from her hand, making it disappear inside his leather jacket before inching closer and stage-whispering, "mebbe next time be a little more discreet, hmm?" He winked, wrapping an arm around her waist as another couple came through the door, pulling her to the side and out of their way. Once they were gone, passing by in a cloud of liquor sweat and smoke, he didn't let go. Instead he smiled down at her, amused to see she was still blushing.

She could feel the leather sleeve of his jacket against her exposed skin and it made her break out in goosebumps. "I apologize, apparently I didn't read the memo about correct protocol for situations like this." It felt good to have his arm around her. "My dad just said to drop that off. If he had told me I had to be stealthy, I'd have worn my Cat Woman suit."

"Meeeow," he replied, that grin of his growing a bit wider to show off his teeth and the dimples in his cheeks. "Next time, love. There's always next time." Slowly, he took a step back, leaning against the wall even though his hand still rested against the small of her back. "Can't say I object to this little number though… tartan's all wrong, but I've no quarrels with the Campbell clan meself." His voice was low enough that only she could hear, sheltered where they were in the doorway of the seedy club and he was letting that Scottish burr creep into his words.

He couldn't help flirting with her. She was absolutely irresistible with how utterly guileless she was. "Right colors, love. Just the wrong pattern. MacLeod of Harris is green an' blue as well, just broader swaths. Common mistake." He shrugged, enjoying the blush creeping across her cheeks. "But somethin' tells me yeh didn't come all this way tae discuss clan tartans." 

She glanced down at her skirt for a moment and then back at him, making a mental note to look up the one he'd mentioned. "Next time I'll color coordinate better." Taking a step towards him, she tried to act all suave but in reality, her legs felt like jelly and they'd give out on her at any moment. "I've got this black and red dress… it's pretty nice." Well that was a lame attempt. This whole situation was uncharted territory, but she wasn't ready to abandon ship just yet.

One brow quirked as he considered that before replying. "Red. Now that's more suitable for ya, Cherry." He shortened her name and it sounded so different with that accent of his, "aye. A nice Cherry Red."

The new nickname brought a smile to her lips which just happened to have dark red lipstick on them. "I like that name." Taking another chance, she moved forward casually, well at least tried to be subtle about it so that her chest was touching his. "You seem warmer than just me standing alone." Yet another lame attempt. At this rate, she'd probably do better to just kiss him and quit talking.

Bruce chuckled, moving his hand finally. When he saw that flicker of disappointment, he actually laughed, genuine enjoyment in that sound as he shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. He had a black hoodie on underneath it, so it wasn't as though he was going to freeze. "Here," he murmured, resting his hands on her shoulders as the warm weight of leather settled over her, "never let it be said that chivalry's dead." It almost sounded like he was quoting something-- a song or a poem, with the way the words came across. "There's a coffee shop across the way," he nodded in that direction, "if ya need something t'warm up those insides. Hot cocoa? Herbal tea? What're the kids drinkin' these days? Somethin' with foamed milk an' cinnamon sprinkles on top? Hell if I know."

"I don't really...." She caught herself on trying to explain that she wasn't really into that scene. Charity had it on the tip of her tongue to say yes, agreeing to that impromptu date right here and now.

Bruce cocked his head, studying her intently as though everything hinged on her reply. 

This guy was different than the sorts of guys she usually spent any time with and not just because he was eight years her senior. The way he looked at her made her feel like he knew exactly what was in her head. "I'd love to go get coffee, but it's getting late." If Vic called and she wasn't home to answer the phone, he could get extremely worried. "I should probably head home." She didn't want to but wasn't completely sure if doing this had been a good idea. She was still sixteen and besides, Bruce probably had a lady friend or something.

He didn't argue with her. Glancing out at the lot, which was absolutely deserted, he leaned in closer and whispered, "better walk you out then. Wouldn't want all those wild hooligans getting the best of ya." He stepped back from the door and called back into the bar over the din, "Hey! Goin' for break!" Holding out his arm to her, he smiled again. "Shall we?"

"Sure," she said, a bit surprised. "Thank you." She slid her arm through his. "I appreciate you walking me… I've heard there's all sorts of stranger danger at bars and stuff." It didn't take but a moment longer until they were at the driver's side of her car. Leaning against her driver's side window, she looked up at this man who had invaded her thoughts since they'd met. "So what do I owe you for your bodyguard services?"

He stepped in closer, looking down at her for a moment before he leaned in. His lips gently grazed her cheek as he plucked the envelope from the inside pocket of the jacket. "Am sure you'll think of somethin'," he whispered in her ear, chuckling softly as he withdrew. He left her standing there, still in his borrowed jacket as he turned back towards the building and started walking away, whistling a merry tune. He glanced over his shoulder, winking when he caught her staring. 

She stood there watching him for at least five seconds before she realized that she'd been holding her breath. What had just transpired caused her to go weak in the knees. When she reached behind her to open the car door, she remembered his jacket. Just as she was about to run after him to give it back, an idea formed in her head. She would make sure he got his jacket back but it would on her turf, on her terms. What could possibly go wrong? Confident in that decision, she finally got in behind the wheel and started the car. 

She didn't notice him watching her from the shadow of the building, a new cigarette dangling from lips that couldn't stop smiling, even long after she'd pulled out of the lot and driven away.