Fortunately, we hadn’t been dumb enough to lead with our best and final offer. “Sweeten the pot.”
“You got it, boss.”
We chatted over details while I kept an eye on the door. A group of attractive women swept in. My heart pounded for a moment. No Toria. It settled back to its normal pace.
Just as my conversation with Dave wound down, a beautiful woman with long, flowing, straight brown hair stepped into the entrance. The moment I saw her, I was lost. I’ve been in the heat of battle where the adrenaline pounded, but that was nothing compared to the way this woman made my pulse race.
“My date’s here. Get me that space.” My voice came out a croak. My mouth was suddenly dry. “Gotta run. Later.”
The woman who’d just come in was wearing a short peach dress with a ruffled skirt that made her legs look long and sexy, and red sandals with six-inch heels that gave her as much height as me. She looked young, toned, and tan. Lovely. And as if she’d just stepped off the promenade at Copa. Maybe it was the Brazilian atmosphere that added to the impression. “The Girl from Ipanema” was playing over the sound system.
Wow. She was the epitome of the girl, strolling in with the sensual moves of a samba, causing all the men she passed to gape and sigh. Her eyes were made up to look sultry and even more exotic than they had in her picture. She could have passed for a Brazilian beauty any day.
I’d been on dates with many beautiful women. After the first few, I’d never lost my tongue again. I found myself struggling to find it now.
Note to women—men agonize over the date. You struggle with your look. This might be the first time I’d warn a woman about looking too hot. I was in danger of turning into that guy at the coffee shop. Fortunately, someone jostled me as they brushed past. That bump snapped me out of my stupor. That and another guy eyeing my date like prey.
She spotted me and smiled.
I waved and mouthed, “Toria?” Looking too damn hopeful. Maybe she liked puppy dogs. I could hope.
When she nodded, the other men who’d been scoping her out registered disappointment or glared at me. Or both.
I fought my way through a crowd of people piling into the restaurant from the street and gave her a hug. It was early days, but she felt just right in my arms. I could tell that much already. And she smelled delicious, more mouth-watering than the meat.
“Cam.” Her voice was lovely and, despite her resemblance to a famous Brazilian model, completely American.
Had her looks subconsciously inspired me to pick this restaurant?
“Ashley didn’t overestimate your height.” Her smile was radiant. “There are very few men I can wear these shoes around and still be shorter than.”
“Wearing tall shoes,” I said. “Bold move.”
“I like a man who can handle height.” She winked.
I liked her.
“Then I’m your guy.” I signaled the hostess that we were ready.
The hostess grabbed two menus and motioned for us to follow her. I held my arm out to Toria. She took my hand instead. If I hadn’t been in love before, I was now.
The hostess led us past the long, lusciously appointed salad bar to a prime booth with a view of the restaurant, and most importantly, the grill and the waiters bursting from the kitchen. The steakhouse itself, located in the heart of a city block, had no exterior view to speak of. People came here for the meat, the grilled pineapple, and the atmosphere, not the view.
Toria slid out of her jacket and into the booth, revealing lovely, tan bare shoulders. I slid in across from her, catching the glitter of her necklace, trying not to stare at her cleavage.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy.” The hostess set the menus before us and left.
I tapped the menus. “I don’t know why they bother with these.”
Toria’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Have you been to a Brazilian steakhouse before?”
When she shook her head, her hair moved sensuously over her naked shoulders.
“They only offer two options for dinner.” I hitched my thumb at the salad bar. “Unlimited trips through the salad bar. That’s the non-meat option. Although there are meat options there, too. Or unlimited trips through the salad bar and all-you-can-eat grilled food brought to your table and carved up fresh before your eyes. They call it rodizio. The only thing the menus are good for is to choose a beverage and look at the prices.” I put my hand on her menu, holding her gaze. “What’s your pleasure—meat or salad?”
“I thought you said I could have both.” Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight.
“So I did. But you have to choose meat.”
“Then I choose meat.”
A woman after my own heart. I released the menu I was holding hostage. She’d already made me her prisoner.
She studied the drink menu. “I’d like a cocktail. What’s good here? I don’t recognize the names of most of them.”
“You’re not Brazilian, I take it? You’re not the girl from Ipanema?”
Her eyes went wide. She smiled coyly. “Yeah. Right. Guilty of checking to see what Brazilian fashion looks like. I only play a Brazilian on a first date in a Brazilian restaurant.”
And then I couldn’t stop myself. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a famous Brazilian model?”
She cocked her head. “Flatterer. I believe you’re the first.”
“No Brazilian ancestry?”
“Not that I know of. Maybe I should do an ancestry test and find out. Would it make a difference to you?”
“Not at all.” I cleared my throat. “All the drinks here are fantastic. Their specialty is a caipirinha, which is lime muddled with Cachaça.”
“And Cachaça is?”
“Brazil’s most popular alcohol—a spirit made from fermented sugarcane juice.”
“I like sweet things.” Her gaze met mine. “Sounds delicious. I’ll try one.”
“Sure? They’re strong.”
“I like strong, too.” Her gaze swept over me.
She knew how to flirt, and I liked it.
Our waiter appeared. We ordered. He set a small sign on our table, indicating we were two rodizios. He explained the general process and invited us to try the salad bar, saying he’d be back with our drinks.
We slid out of the booth. I put my hand at the small of Toria’s back, moving her in front of me at the salad bar.
She grabbed a plate and took in the salad bar with a sigh of happiness. “This looks fantastic.”
“A word to the wise—pace yourself. The barbecue is even better. Save room for the barbecued pineapple, especially. They’re famous for it.”
She didn’t heed my advice. She piled her plate high with imported Brazilian fruit—mango, papaya, guava, passionfruit atemoia, and exotic varieties of oranges—and salads of all sorts, including Brazilian chicken salad, which has a name I couldn’t pronounce, and hearts of palm salad. As soon as we sat down, our waiter appeared with our drinks and beverages.
My plate of food looked downright delicate and petite compared to hers. And a lot less adventurous. I liked her spirit.
She pointed to my plate. “Chicken. Don’t tell me you’re a dainty eater?”
“Chicken? You’re the one with the chicken salad on your plate. I prefer my chicken right off the spit. Why waste my appetite on fruit and veggies?”
She grinned and raised her caipirinha to me. “To the beginning of a beautiful evening with a man who eats like a bird.”
I touched my glass to hers. “You haven’t seen me eat yet.”
She grinned and dug into her salad plate. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m starved. I’ve had two cups of coffee today and that’s it. Fridays should be mellow, but I’ve been swamped. One firestorm after another today. The joys of owning a business.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I thought you were living the life of leisure, just counting your money for fun and dashing off around the world to play adventurer?”
“Who told you that?”
She laughed. “Isn’t that what all multimillionaires do?”
“Urban myth. I’m surprised Ashley didn’t disabuse you of it and sell you on my hardworking nature.”
“I’m learning so much tonight. Another fairytale shattered.” She took a sip of her drink. “This is fabulous.”
“It’s the lime.”
“Forgive me if I disagree. It’s the fermented sugarcane.” She took another sip. “Ashley is the hardest-working billionaire’s fiancée I know.”
“You know more than one?”
“Caught me.” Her grin was beautiful. And she really was shoveling the food in. “Semantics. You know what I mean.”
“In my experience, billionaires are hardworking. Multimillionaires even more so.”
“And hardworking entrepreneurs struggling to become millionaires.”
She wore a delicate gold chain with a sparkling crystal that rested neatly in the cleft of her breasts. It was hard not to stare. It would have been even harder if her eyes and her expressions weren’t so arresting and filled with fun.
“What kind of firestorms does a struggling entrepreneur have to deal with on a Friday? Employees coasting toward the weekend?”
A server with a full barbecued pineapple stopped at our table. “Pineapple?”
“You have to try this,” I said to Toria.
“I thought you weren’t wasting your appetite on fruit. And yet you want me to spoil mine?” She lifted an eyebrow.
“Too late for that.” I looked pointedly at her emptying salad plate.
“Should I lick my plate?” Her playful smile turned my heart upside down.
“The grilled pineapple is the exception to the fruit rule.”
She smiled so prettily at the server that I thought he blushed in the dark lighting. “All right. He wins. Serve me a juicy piece.”
He sliced her a prime piece of the pineapple and slid it on her plate. “Try it. See if the gentleman is right. If you like it, I can I give you another piece before I leave the table.” He leaned down to whisper to her. “The pineapple goes fast. It’s hard to keep up with the demand.”
She shrugged and tried a bite, rolling her eyes heavenward and making a soft moan that sliced through the heart of every man within hearing distance. To see her in the heat of passion and have her moan half as seductively as that…
And she wasn’t even apparently aware of what she was doing to us men.
“Perfection.” She motioned to the server. “Another slice before you leave us, please.”
He gave her another and reluctantly left when a large man at another table signaled him.
“I’m struggling with growing pains,” she said, returning to our conversation. “That’s what my emergencies were today. After a period of stagnation, we’re growing again. It’s all good. Except for finding and keeping valuable office space in the city.”
I sighed. “I feel your pain.”
She cocked her head. “I thought you worked from home? That’s what Ashley said, I believe.”
I caught myself and nodded. “I do. But I have a few outside pet projects. And the refrain’s the same from every startup I know—not enough office space. A competitive market.”
We were interrupted by another server with a beautiful spit of beef and a lethal-looking carving knife at the ready. “Beef?”
I rubbed my hands together. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”
He piled it on my plate.
“This is what separates the men from the boys,” I said.
Not to be outdone, Toria insisted on the same ample serving size. “And the men from the women.”
“There’s still chicken, pork, and fish to come,” I said. “You’ll want to try a bite of everything. It’s served randomly.”
“I have plenty of room.”
“What kind of growth problems are you having?”
“The usual—inventory management. Capital to fund the growth. Reining growth in so that it doesn’t tank us while trying to grow at a manageable pace and not kill our buzz and momentum.”
“If you’re looking for an angel investor, I know a few. Lazer’s one of the best and sharpest. He’s a great mentor, too. I can put in a word for you.”
Her eyes went wide again. She broke slowly into a smile. “You don’t even know what I do.”
“Doesn’t matter what you do—Lazer has soft spot for beautiful women. I’ll leave it to him to sort it out and grill you about your financials. You strike me as the kind of woman who’s up to the challenge.”
“This date is going better than I dreamed,” she said. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Our conversation continued—interrupted every five minutes by another server offering another delicious barbecued meat or pineapple. Note to self in regard to future dates—the atmosphere and food were fantastic and fun. The restaurant seemed to be a hit. But I could have done with fewer interruptions.
Toria ate me under the table as I fell in love with her bite by bite.
I finally held my hands up. “Uncle. I can’t eat another bite.”
She grinned. “That’s too bad. You don’t mind if I have dessert and some Brazilian-grown coffee? Someone nearby has some. I can smell it. It’s driving me insane with desire.”
Driving her insane with desire? She had no idea the effect she was having on me. Nor of the damage done to my ego by being upstaged by a cup of coffee.
“You can smell that over all the other scents in here?” I asked.
“I have a discerning, well-developed sense of smell.”
I nodded. “All right. Help yourself. I’ll join you in a cup of coffee.”
“But it will be crowded in there, won’t it?”
“That won’t be a problem for me.” Not a problem at all.
5
Toria
I went easy on Cam’s ego and ordered brigadeiro, fudgy chocolate bonbons made with cocoa, condensed milk, and butter rolled in chocolate sprinkles. Yes, I asked our waiter to tell me what was in them.
“They’re our most popular dessert. Small, sweet, and perfection with a cup of after-dinner coffee.”
They came three to a plate and complemented the coffee perfectly.
I insisted Cam try one. “If you’re going to explode, I want to see it.”
“You’re a cruel woman.” His grin sent my heart racing.
I watched his long-fingered hand as he took a bonbon from the plate I offered him, and willed my heart to stop fluttering. Ashley had not oversold him. He was hot, witty, charming, and kind. In a word—perfect.
I couldn’t believe how fast the evening had flown by. He was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, easy to look at. He’d picked the perfect restaurant. And if you wanted to know the truth, I’ve always been able to put food away, but tonight I kept eating so that the evening wouldn’t end.
He may not have noticed—I was good at sleight-of-hand and trickery, particularly with food, a trick I’d learned as a child—at least he hadn’t called me out on it, but I’d been cheating all night, hiding portions of my food in a spare napkin that I disposed of when I visited the ladies’ room. Which was when I also made a deal with the servers to give me increasingly small servings that looked deceptively large.
The lengths I’d go to in order to spend time with such a charming dinner companion.
“You first.” He pointed to my chocolate. “Before I take another bite and explode, I want to see if it’s worth it.”
I shrugged and took a nibble of bonbon. I was flirting my head off. So I couldn’t resist putting on a look of rapture as I swirled the chocolate around in my mouth.
His eyes were dark as he watched me in an intense, flattering way. There was a moment when I thought I could wrap him around my little finger. And I was tempted. I was. I was also tempted to show more interest, rather than less. I wanted to make my interest clear. In this instance, I had no vanity. I didn’t want to lose him to anoth
er match.
He studied me. “Well? What’s the verdict?”
“Extremely sweet.” I took a sip of coffee with it. “Tempered with coffee—perfect.”
I watched him sigh with resignation and take a bite. He’d really been game in his attempt to keep up with me, eating-wise. If we started dating in earnest, I’d have to teach him a poker face. Or maybe not. His frank interest and attention sent my heart fluttering and my pulse racing. And I liked it. This was one instance where chemistry was fun.
He winced and grabbed his cheek. “Wow. I think I just got a toothache. Way too sweet for my tastes.” He set the rest of his bonbon down on his napkin.
I grabbed his coffee and handed it to him. “Quickly. Drink. You’ll feel better.”
Our fingers brushed as he took it from me. The zing between us was electric and almost startling.
I watched as he lifted the cup to his lips. “Better?”
His face cleared. “Much.”
“I told you,” I said. “The coffee is key. Up for another bite?” I lifted my bonbon.
He shook his head. “I’m in over my head already. I won’t be able to eat for a week.”
I laughed and lingered over coffee as long as I could manage. Finally, the evening had to end. Cam walked me to the exit and waited with me for my Uber.
“I had a great time tonight, the best.” I was completely sincere.
“That makes two of us.” He hesitated.
It wasn’t like me to be so bold, but I couldn’t help myself. One thing I’ve learned—if you want to see a man again, give him an opening, a giant, gaping opening. “I’m going to hold you to putting a word in with Lazer for me.”
“I’m meeting him tomorrow for breakfast.” He clutched his stomach and rolled his eyes. “Food in the morning seemed like a good idea then.” He grinned. “I’ll feel him out at breakfast. I’ll have plenty of time to talk while he eats.”
“Fabulous.” I held my purse low in front of me, dangling it from both hands, still giving him the opening.
“I’d like to see you again.”
I liked that he was direct and not keeping me in anticipation. “I’d like that too.”
“If you’re not busy tomorrow afternoon, I could fill you in on my meeting with Lazer.”
Mr. Accidental Rival_Jet City Matchmaker Series_Cam Page 4
