"Well that's a damn shame, as I'm sure Cliff would agree." Mark leans in on his elbows, face level with mine. "Maybe if I gave it a shot instead?"
Leaning back quickly, I smile. "I doubt that Heath would agree."
"Heath?" Surprise changes to laughter as Mark punches him on the arm. "Heath, huh? How proper. Should I buy you a pipe and an ascot?"
"God, now he'll never stop. Hey, if she has a fantasy about me seducing her on the moors, who am I to argue?" As they bump fists, I roll my eyes at their bro-mantics before interrupting.
"I don't believe we've discussed fantasies or seduction yet, so let's not get ahead of ourselves, especially on an empty stomach." The dancing of my eyes belies my stern tone as both of them look intrigued, especially Mark.
"I'll take that as a challenge. What can I serve you that will inspire talk of fantasies and seduction? Because whatever it is, count me in!"
"Hey!" Heath protests. "Whose date is this anyway? Back it up, my man. Get back to your side of the counter."
The sharp ping of Heath's phone interrupts us as he glances at a message with a frown before texting back quickly, his eyes darting to mine as he waits for the quick response.
"I'm so sorry, Josie, I have to go."
As he jumps off his chair, I reach to gather my own things until he shakes his head at me.
"No, stay. Mark, they're bringing in a probable surgery. Dog vs. auto. Take care of Josie, will you? Make sure she eats." Leaning in, he kisses me quickly on the cheek, his thumb brushing my neck as he smiles regretfully. "And get her a drink. She's had a hard day."
"No problem, man. I got this." Mark reaches across the counter to grasp Heath's hand, before backing away.
"I'll text you tomorrow. I really am sorry." I'm touched by his dedication as I make shooing motions to send him on his way.
"I'm fine, go! Don't worry about me. Take care of that poor animal and do your magic."
Watching his tall form weave through the crowds, I reflect on how nothing has worked out the way I've planned today, when my thoughts are interrupted by Mark's slight cough.
"So, what shall we tell our children about our first date?"
Chapter 9
Two Truths & A Lie
"Our first date? I thought I was on a date with Heath?"
Mark's wicked smile sends a slow trickle of pleasure right between my thighs. God, he should bottle that look like hot sauce. He could make a fortune.
"Didn't you hear my man? He told me to take care of you. This date is now mine! Ours."
The wink is nearly my undoing. Normally, I hate guys who wink, since it usually comes across as smarmy. But something about Mark's eyes just reach deep into the part of my brain that wants to be teased. If I were Lady Sydney, he'd be the rogue that wants to take advantage of her body, but would be discreet enough to at least protect her good name afterwards.
Eyes widening, I realize that I'm in trouble here. I should not be looking at Heath's friend this way, even if he is a mighty sexy man in his disheveled, dare I say rakish, way. My hands want to sift through his hair to see if his curls feel as silky as I imagine. Critically, I find myself wondering what he would look like in breeches and a linen shirt, unbuttoned down to his…
"Josie, if you are going to undress me with your eyes like that, we're going to need to leave the kitchen." Face flaming, I begin to stutter as Mark turns away at the sound of commotion in the kitchen. "What the hell are you doing, man? You send that out of my kitchen, and I will personally serve your balls on a plate next!"
The heat of embarrassment flooding my body begins to abate somewhat as Mark hurries back to the line and starts arguing in Spanish with one of his sous-chefs. My cold hands cup my warm cheeks, trying to cool the burn before reaching for my ice water and taking several frantic gulps. Damn, that man generates heat without even trying.
I'm so happy Heath isn't here watching my every reaction, this could get awkward. Fast. Why the hell am I still sitting here? I need to leave, right now.
"Woah! Where do you think you're going?" Mark asks, appearing in front of me once more as I start gathering my purse to stand.
“I think I’m going to go—” I start.
"Nuh-uh. Nope. I promised to feed you, and it's an insult to leave any chef's table without eating. What the hell? Were you raised by McDonald's?" Mark gestures wildly over my shoulder for a waiter filling glasses at a nearby table. "Salvatore! Bring Josie a glass of Zin. We need to feed and water her, stat!"
Warmth flares through my palm as Mark grabs my hand and pulls me back to lean on the counter. "I'll dial it back." Bright white teeth flash. "Don't worry, you'll get used to me, I'm an awful flirt. Sit. Eat. Talk. I'm bored and I'd like to leave, but I'm training new line cooks tonight. I need to be here to watch what they're doing. Keep me company. Please."
It's always the 'please' that gets me. He's obviously sincere, and when did I stop being able to handle some careless flirting? If anything, it was always one of my strengths, something I enjoy. Dancing that edge with words and innuendo to see who will break first.
It's my own guilty conscience that's signaling me to run because I'm imagining—hoping?—for more. Besides, I suddenly remember I need something from this man.
Settling back in, I plant my elbows on the counter and rest my chin on my upraised palm.
"How about a game?" I ask innocently, batting my eyes outrageously.
His whoop of laughter tells me all I need to know.
"Game on! What did you have in mind?" Yep, he would definitely be the rakish, inveterate gambler that plagues Lady Sydney just to relieve his boredom.
"Ever play two truths and a lie?"
Watching his gorgeous blue eyes light with mischief, I take that as a yes.
"We'll take turns asking questions. Each person has to answer that question with two truths and a lie. It's up to the other person to determine the lie. I'll even let you ask your question first."
Eyeing him craftily, I start gathering questions in my head that I know I'm dying to ask. This could be really fun.
"I'm in. Question one, why are you single?"
Ouch! I didn't expect him to go for the throat quite so quickly. Staring him down I formulate answers in my head that won't sound pathetic and wonder just how gullible he is. As opening salvos go, I give him major points for cutting right to the chase.
A question from the kitchen draws him away once more, so I have time to think about what I want him to believe. The smart players realize this game is not just about stumping the other player. The real glory is using the questions to make someone believe what you want them to think about you. It's drawing them away from the real answer with enough truth that puts you in the best light
Emma taught me that. While she generally uses her powers for good rather than evil, she's the ultimate manipulator when it comes to games, getting you to start second guessing what you know to be true. Luckily, I'm a good student.
I'm saved temporarily from answering as a plate slides in front of me on the counter, the smell of fresh thyme and lemon tickling my nose as I stare at the beautiful mini tower of beets and goat cheese. The artistic drizzle of aged balsamic beckons me as I dip my pinkie in and suck the rich, malty flavor between my pursed lips to Mark's amusement.
"Italian or Spanish?"
"Spanish," Mark looks surprised by my question, then narrows his eyes slightly. "Now stop using the balsamic as a distraction and just answer the question."
Using my fork to break off one delicate chunk, my eyes flutter in pleasure at the sharp taste of the goat cheese that I've dragged through the sweet balsamic.
"Why am I single? One, who says I'm single? Two, I don't believe in marriage. Three, I haven't found the right man." Mark's concentration amuses me as I continue to quickly dispose of my appetizer.
"Wow. You're good." I chuckle a bit at his chagrin as he clearly reevaluates the game.
"I would never have guessed that you didn't believe in marriage if you had
n't lied about being single. You look like the kind of girl who would want the whole fairy tale."
"What makes you believe that I'm single?" I tilt my head coquettishly. "You seem awfully certain about me in that respect."
"Come on, Josie. While I know that some married women have no problem rolling gullible guys for money, you don't strike me as the mercenary type."
Hmm. Maybe I was a bit overconfident.
"Besides," he continues, "I don't need to be certain of you. I'm certain of Cliff. After what he went through with Lori, there's no way he'd see someone who wasn't one hundred percent free and clear, no strings attached, available." Turning away, he shoots me a triumphant look before heading back to the kitchen.
Well, damn. I didn't think about that. Clearly, I overplayed my hand on that one. I'm going to need to think these through a bit more.
"We never decided the prize for the winner," I call into the kitchen where he’s retreated to plate a few more meals before calling for servers. Sipping my wine, I wait for his return until a beautiful plate of lamb chops sizzle before me, pungent with rosemary and something I can't identify, seared to perfection.
"Your turn," Mark demands. "And if I win, I'll let you know what I want."
"Do I look like I was born yesterday? You can't believe I'll play without setting the terms first," I counter.
"Why? Not feeling very confident?" he taunts.
Oh, please tell me he did not just say that.
"Okay, you're on. Same rules apply if I win." I'm already creating the store flyers in my head for his culinary class. Like taking candy from a baby.
"Shoot. What's your question?"
"Why did you decide to become a chef?" Hah! Got you there. I can Google with the best of them.
He wasn't expecting me to ask something that he's answered extensively in public. Watching his face close down as he tries to formulate an answer, I just take another sip of my lovely Zin before delicately picking up one of the lamb chops just as he begins to answer.
"One…" His answer dies as he watches me gnaw my lamb chop to the bone. "Did you do that deliberately?"
His gaze is focused on my lips as I swallow and place the bone on my plate.
"What?"
"God, you're sexy when you eat." Laughing at what must be my confused expression, he continues, "Just the fact that you actually eat and seem to get enjoyment from it. I'm so tired of watching people keto and paleo their way around a plate. Not to mention the vegans." He shudders. "I'm all for healthy living, but when did it become such a crime to simply enjoy good food? As a chef, it's not only refreshing, it's good for my ego."
"You're stalling," I remind him as I pick up the second lamb chop with my fingers, using it as a baton to wave him on before sinking my teeth in again. My man can certainly cook. Woah. Not my man. Stop saying that. Flirt. He admits he's a flirt. He's a means to an end, a very necessary means to my job security. Must. Stay. Focused.
"Ok. One, my father was a chef. Two, I wasn't a great student, but I seemed to have an aptitude for food. Three, I thought it would be a great way to meet women." He grins self-deprecatingly.
Silly boy. I'm not falling for that, 'aw shucks, you know that no one bases a career on something so ridiculous' look. He's good, but I'm better.
"Number one is the lie. It was your grandfather who was the chef, and you liked spending time with him in the kitchen. One point for me. Next question."
"How did you and Cliff meet?"
Honest curiosity lights his face as he gestures to Salvatore to refill my wine glass, leaving me once more to grab a plate of gorgeous, pillowy gnocchi in a sage brown butter which he places gently before me. Inhaling, I take a deep breath in anticipation while I formulate my answers, trying to decide if he and Heath have discussed this already. Judging by the genuine curiosity on his face, I decide to hedge my bets and go for honesty.
"One, we met on an online dating site. Two, we met when I brought my dog in to have his anal glands expressed. Three, we hit it off when we discovered that we both had a love for classic literature."
"Really?" He looks intrigued. "What kind of dog do you have? I've been seriously thinking about getting a Pyrenees, but I'm not certain it's fair to keep a dog that big in the city. I'm worried he'll get restless without enough space to run."
"My cat is a rescue…and that's another point to me, thank you very much." I grin, doing an internal happy dance at having solved my problem. Who's the master? I am.
"You just said… No, you did not meet on a dating site."
"Why not?" I shrug. "Why is that so shocking? I ran out of options, had too much to drink one night, and threw away my money on the promise of thousands of men just dying to meet me." I know my tone is self-mocking, but it's true. "Instead, I found dozens of men who live with their mothers or are, most likely, in prison somewhere. All things considered, you're right. It's kind of a miracle that Heath ended up there, too. So about that prize—"
"But if you met Cliff on a dating site, that means that you're open to meeting other men, too." Backing away, he heads into the kitchen once more, while I peek between the shelves where he's plating to continue our discussion.
"Theoretically, yes, I was. I've chatted with multiple men over the last several months. I probably would have gone out with a few others to test the waters, if they hadn't turned out to be so obviously catfishing. Honestly, it's terrifying what passes as polite conversation these days. Anyone who asks you to disclose your entire sexual history and sends a total stranger unsolicited pics of their, shall we say, equipment, is just completely deluded or desperate. Ask Heath. We had multiple superficial conversations before he caught me at a weak moment and lured me out into the open."
"Cliff asked you about your sexual history? Not that I wouldn't be willing to listen if you want to spill your secrets."
"No! Heath was one of the few who didn't. Instead, he asked me what I like to read, and we bonded a little over our ridiculous user names and books." Chuckling, I let him in on the secret. "In fact, he lured me out by offering to bring me here and buy me bacon. I never could resist the promise of a good brunch."
"So theoretically, if I was on that dating site, you would have had no reason not to go out with me." Where is he going with this?
"Theoretically, no. But you're not, and I suspect you would have swiped past my profile without a second thought. Besides, I don't usually go out with more than one guy at a time. Furthermore, why would you be on a dating site?"
"Because you are. And I would really like to go on a date with you." With a flourish, he drops two plates in front of me. One holds a luscious caramel flan that glistens wetly in the lowlight. The other, a selection of small wedges of hard and creamy cheeses, offset by Marcona almonds and thin slices of crusty artisan bread.
As tempting as both plates look, I'm speechless at his statement of intent and clear my throat before I answer carefully.
"Don't you think that would be somewhat unethical, given the circumstances?"
I'm surprised by a completely unrelated question as he steps back. "Savory or sweet?"
"What?"
"I'm so glad I didn't miss you." Heath's voice breaks our bubble as a kiss lands next to my ear and he pulls out his chair again. "Shana said you were still here when I called, so I came back to drive you home."
"You came all the way back for me?" I'm touched as I see the sadness shadowing his eyes.
"Yeah, I was too late to do anything but console the owner. Unfortunately, that's the worst part of my job—when I'm helpless to do anything else." Brightening he adds, "Anyway, I knew seeing you would help me shake the mood."
I'm distressed by his sadness, and also by his assertion that I am the remedy to lifting his spirits. Touching his hand, I move the plates between us as Mark drops a gin and tonic in front of Heath's plate, then turns his direct gaze my way once more.
"Savory or sweet?" I'm not certain if we're still talking about food as he stares intently at me.
<
br /> Glancing down between the two plates, I blurt the first thing that comes to my mind.
"Are you really going to make me choose?" Oddly, his answer makes me feel even less certain of what I'm committing to.
"Nope."
Chapter 10
Well That Was Awkward
I swear I can feel my heart stutter as I look away uncomfortably to Heath, who regards us curiously. "Did I miss something?"
"We were playing a little game and getting to know one another better." Mark shrugs carelessly, glancing over his shoulder into the kitchen as if it was nothing. Which it was in the grand scheme of things. Nothing happened. Then why do I feel so guilty?
"Mark asked how we met and was surprised that I found you online."
"No," he corrects me. "I was surprised that Cliff found you online. And I said…" He pauses for emphasis. "That if I had known that was even a possibility, I would have glued myself to my computer long ago. I'm jealous, bro."
His candor is a bit shocking, but Heath doesn't seem offended. He just regards him with an amazing calm, amused but somewhat resigned.
"Did I miss the window?" Running a hand across his face, he looks suddenly weary, until I place my hand over his and rub lightly to provide comfort. It must be awful to know your gift is to nurture and heal, then be helpless to save an animal. The rest of this is nonsense in comparison.
"What window?"
"The window to impress you before Mark tried to steal my thunder. I shouldn't be surprised. It's my own fault for leaving you here."
"Don't be ridiculous…" I start to protest, but my voice trails off as the guys communicate silently in that way that men do. It's non-verbal arm wrestling. These guys are friends who respect each other—no arrogant cock measuring, more a quiet battle for dominance.
"Let him tell me that, Josie, because either you're too sweet to say it, or he didn't seal the deal. In which case, I'm claiming first rights and he's going to have to work for it."
Corsets and Quartets Page 8
