by Kim Linwood
For a second, I consider calling back the cab that took me here and tell her to take me back home. The tail lights only just disappeared around the corner. But no, I said I’d be here. I’m not going to run away.
La Grenouille is easily the fanciest place within driving distance. Coyote Creek might be only a half hour around the lake, but it’s a whole different world over here. Everything caters to the high-end resort crowd, and that’s never been me. Sure it’s picturesque, but there’s not much point in paying twice as much just for the sake of a pretty view.
During ski season it’ll be packed, but it’s summer and the town’s quiet. There are enough rich families dragging their kids to the mountains for hiking and other get-back-to-nature activities during summer vacation to make it worth keeping the town and restaurants open, but not much else. Until winter, it’s mostly locals and a skeleton crew from the resort that keep things going.
It’s stupid to be nervous about going to a fancy restaurant, but here I am, fidgeting with my phone camera for a last-second check of my makeup. Why did I go with red lips? Doesn’t that scream date? I don’t even like Carter. Much, anyway.
I mean, he’s sexy as hell, so long as he keeps his mouth shut, but if I give the final go-ahead for the sale, he’ll be my new boss. How’s that going to work? I’ve gotten used to running things on my own and now I’ll have Carter looking over my shoulder.
And knowing him, down my shirt.
So tell me again why I’m here?
Because my parents’ RV smells like curdled lemon meringue.
And also because I want to prove to both of us that I can handle anything he throws at me and still keep it professional. And maybe just a little, because I want him to feel just as off balance around me as I do around him and his movie star looks.
But it’s definitely not because this is a date.
I push open the front door, and immediately there’s a tall, thin maître d’ coming right for me.
“Bienvenue à la Grenouille! Are you meeting someone tonight?” he asks in an exaggerated French accent. He wrings his hands as he speaks, like he’s incredibly excited to see me, or maybe business is really just that slow tonight.
“Carter Graves? He might already be here.” Because unlike me, he probably didn’t spend ten minutes outside working up the nerve to come in.
The maître d’ checks his book and smiles. “Oui, of course, of course. This way, please, mademoiselle.”
He leads me past a small number of precisely arranged tables towards the back of the restaurant. It’s intimate without being crowded, and way fancier than I’m used to. I’m glad I dressed up. The other diners don’t even spare me a glance as we move past them, but it’s all I can do not to gawk. There’s enough flashy bling in here to pay off my parents’ road trip fiasco and then some.
“Here we are,” he proclaims with a slight bow as we turn a corner to find a tucked away table, secluded from the rest of the restaurant.
Carter puts down his phone and stands as soon as he sees us, his handsome face spreading into a sexy smile. I stop in my tracks, suddenly alone and not at all sure I’m ready for what looks like the perfect setup to a romantic dinner.
Business. It’s about business, I remind myself.
“I’ll tell the kitchen to begin the preparations,” says the maître d’ and backs away. I don’t even look at him, because that would mean looking away from Carter.
My date—no, business partner—looks good enough to be the main course. His tie is off, and his jacket open, exposing a smooth white shirt stretched tightly across his broad chest. Holding out his hand, he steps forward to greet me while his smoldering dark eyes watch intently. He’s completely in his element, while I’m as nervous as a virgin on prom night.
An errant lock of chestnut hair is the only thing out of place in his otherwise perfectly styled appearance. I reach up without thinking, smoothing it back into line. The soft strands run through my fingers like silk and I get the urge to mess it all up just to touch him again.
His jaw ticks and heat flashes across his gaze. There’s nothing unprofessional about his appearance, and yet his entire being screams sex. I don’t even know why I’m trying to fool myself. Nothing that involves me and Carter Graves will ever be completely professional. He knows it. I know it. Hell, the maître d’ probably knows it.
Which leaves me wondering why I agreed to be here in the first place.
Carter pulls out my chair before giving me a slow, sensual smile. “You made it. I was starting to wonder.”
“Did you think I’d stand you up?”
“Honestly? I wasn’t sure. We have a bit of an odd track record so far.” He slides my chair back into place as I sit down, leaning close enough that I can smell the spicy scent of his aftershave. “You look amazing tonight.”
“Th… thank you,” I stammer out awkwardly. “So do you.” Ugh, that was lame. So do you?
He chuckles. “I don’t mess around when I’m talking business.”
The sheer ridiculousness of his statement makes me laugh. “Oh, really? So far it’s seemed more the other way around. You don’t do business while you’re messing around. I guess those other meetings were with your evil twin. Nice to meet you. I’m Sadie Williams, but you can call me Unimpressed.” I hold out my hand and he takes it with a laugh, brushing his thumb over the back and sending a tingle up my arm.
“Nice to meet you, Unimpressed. I have to say, you’re even more beautiful than my devilishly handsome twin led me to believe.”
We grin at each other over the table until a waiter comes over with the wine list. Carter takes it, flipping to the champagnes. “Bubbly starter alright with you?”
I nod, knowing absolutely nothing about champagne aside from having enjoyed it the few times I’ve tried.
“We’ll start with…” His finger trails down the page until he lands on something that catches his eye. “This one for aperitif.”
The waiter nods with a smile. “Excellent choice. I’ll get that for you right away.”
“No menu?” I ask as soon as the waiter is out of sight.
Carter sips his water and shakes his head. “Not tonight. I ordered the five-course dinner. I considered the seven, but it would be a shame if we ended up too full for…”
Heat curls between my legs. “For?”
His chocolate brown eyes hit mine. “Dessert. In celebration of our new partnership, of course. What were you thinking?”
I stay quiet because there’s no right response. No matter what I say, he’ll just turn it into another innuendo. Luckily, the waiter returns, carrying two crystal flutes full of bubbly, golden champagne. He offers the first glass to Carter, waiting for his approval before handing me mine with a smile. “The first course will be out soon. Enjoy your champagne.”
Carter nods in thanks, then raises his glass in toast. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he watches me closely and proclaims, “To the start of a long and profitable relationship. We got off to a rocky start, but I have a good feeling about working together.”
I touch my glass to his with a quiet clink before bringing it to my lips as I mull over his words. The bubbles slip down my throat, light and sweet. His toast fills me with anticipation, both bad and good. At the very least, working with Carter would never be boring.
“Partners, huh?” I say, and he tips his head in acknowledgement.
One sip of champagne isn’t nearly enough to blame for the lightheaded feeling I have right now. No, that’s definitely because I’m at a fancy restaurant with the sexiest man I’ve ever met. A man who drives me crazy when he isn’t busy driving me to distraction. If she could see me now, Maria would be so proud.
11
Sadie
“Ring, ring. This is your guardian angel calling.”
I give Carter an apologetic look as I hold my phone to my ear. “Oh, um. Hi, Aunt Mabel. How nice to hear from you.”
“Something something family emergency something somethi
ng,” Zoe says on the other end, offering me a get out of jail free call, just as we agreed on.
“Sure, I’m glad that rash cleared up,” I say, nodding along to a conversation that doesn’t exist. “I’d love to come visit you at the senior center, but I’m kind of busy tonight. Maybe this weekend.”
Carter raises an eyebrow at me. I give him a shrug and what I hope is an innocent smile. It could be just the alcohol and incredible food talking, but I’m actually having a good time. When he isn’t being a complete ass, it turns out he’s a very entertaining date.
Zoe huffs in mock annoyance. “Oh, fine. I suppose this means I have to call off the SWAT team I hired to extract you.”
“Exactly. We’ll find another time. Thanks for calling. Bye.” I hang up and put my phone back in my purse. As soon as I look up and see Carter watching me with a knowing expression, my face heats. “How obvious was that?”
“On a scale of one to ten? About twenty.” He laughs. “This isn’t my first rodeo, you know, but thanks for choosing me over Aunt Mabel.”
I feel like a total heel. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you. It’s that—”
“You didn’t trust yourself with me. I totally get it. I have that effect on women,” Carter says with a wink, obviously more amused than angry. “It’s fine. But just to get all the cards out on the table, how much do you hate me?”
“On a scale of one to ten?” I tap my chin, making a point of thinking it over. “Despite your best efforts and my normally good judgement, I don’t. Not really. Strong dislike maybe,” I tease, slicing off a piece of butter soft venison and dipping it red wine sauce.
Carter grins. “Just as a warning, I intend to get that up to a good solid medium dislike by the end of the evening. Maybe even grudging tolerance, depending on how dessert goes.”
“Oooh, an ambitious man.” I hide my answering smile behind my glass. The intellectual part of my brain is receding in favor of the instinctual.
And all my instincts are screaming, “Jump on that and lock it down!”
I know it’s partly the wine, partly the good food, and a good dose of romantic lighting, but every time he makes me laugh, the reasons why I let myself get so hung up about working with him fade a little bit more.
“It’s good to have something to aspire to.” He chews slowly and swallows, his tongue stealing out to capture an errant drop of sauce. “I do enjoy a good challenge, and while I admit it isn’t a good business move to show my hand, I can’t help but wonder what I’d have to do to win you over.” As he speaks, his foot hooks behind my calf and slides softly up and down. “I’m a man of many talents.”
I should move my leg. The whole footsie move is just way too cheesy.
But I don’t.
There’s an attraction between us, obviously. Carter’s not even trying to hide it, and even I can be honest about it to myself. All our talk about business and staying professional doesn’t matter if I let this creep into first date territory, because once that happens, there’s no going back and it makes me seriously nervous.
Carter, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the word. I’m not surprised. He flips from businessman to playboy like they are personas he can put on and take off at a moment’s notice. It makes me cautious about accepting him at face value, even when I think back on how he seemed genuinely concerned and helpful during the urn-turned-vase crisis.
Who is the real Carter Graves?
All I know for sure is that no matter who it is, he checks every single box I have for physical attraction. Like with a gigantic black marker. In bold. And every bit of him I can see makes me want to do a more thorough examination of the parts I can’t. Something I’d usually be more than willing to do. The thought of peeling open his shirt to find out if his chest feels as good as it looks isn’t exactly unappealing.
Blood rushes south as I consider what’s going on under the rest of his clothes. Specifically, his pants.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he says lightly, in stark contrast to the calculation in his eyes.
“A penny? I think you can do better than that, Mr. Big Shot Negotiator.”
His foot slides up to the back of my knee, soft against my sensitive skin. “You drive a hard bargain, Sadie Williams. Alright, if a little copper isn’t enough for you, I’ll sweeten the deal. Ask me anything and I’ll answer honestly.”
There are so many things I should ask.
Why do you want this deal so badly?
What will happen to our funeral home after you take over?
The contract seems too good to be true. What’s the catch?
Boxers or briefs?
But I don’t ask him any of that. “You said you were a man of many talents. Name one.”
Carter’s smile turns into a wide grin and his foot sends a shiver up my thigh. “Let’s just say… making deals isn’t the only thing this mouth is good for.”
Is it suddenly warm in here?
I take a deep drink of water and finally come to my senses, crossing my legs and moving them away from his teasing touch. He doesn’t lose the cocky grin, but he does respect my choice and puts his foot back on the floor. At least for now.
“What? No comments?” He pauses. “Requests?” I’d think he was disappointed if he wasn’t so obviously entertained by himself.
Our waiter appears quietly, whisking away our plates before announcing that dessert is on its way. My stomach is ready to burst, making me glad I went with the control top stockings. I suppose the ladylike thing to do would be to refuse, but ice cream was mentioned and this isn’t a date, right? Mama didn’t raise no quitter.
“Okay, okay.” Carter makes a dismissive motion with his hand. “So that didn’t win you over. How about I ask you something?”
This feels like a trap. “All right, but if it has to do with my mouth, I reserve the right to call Aunt Mabel back.”
He laughs and tips his head in mock defeat. “What do you do for fun when you aren’t at work? It must get pretty depressing working with grieving people all week long.”
“You never work directly with clients? But it’s your family business.” I’m surprised. As soon as I could get a permit, I was on my parents’ payroll, and even before it was official, I can’t remember ever not being a part of things. I guess I’d assumed that it would be similar for Carter, but maybe not.
He looks a little chagrined. “Not really. I know the business end, but this changeover is about as close as I’ve been to the nitty gritty. I’m a negotiator. I’ve never gotten the opportunity to dig deeper.”
For a moment, I get a glimpse of the real Carter. At least it feels like that. Seeing that flash of vulnerability makes him feel more normal and makes me want to open up a little more.
“It’s not really depressing, not like you might think. It’s sad, especially when someone young has died, but it can be a celebration too. Of a life well lived. The ceremony is a show of respect for the dead, but it’s also a chance for the bereaved to process what happened and start to move on. But I can’t lie, some days are pretty hard.”
Carter rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, like things have gotten a bit too real for him. “So, for fun…”
“I paint.”
“Houses?”
“What? No! Well, I suppose I’ve painted houses, but I’ve never painted a house. Know what I mean?”
He looks at me blankly.
“Paintings. You know, art. Those things you hang on walls that aren’t photographs or calendars.” I draw a square in the air and pretend to hang it up.
Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the table between us. “Really? You do know that now you’re going to have to show me.”
“So you can make fun of my happy little trees? No thanks.” I keep my voice light like it doesn’t matter, but I’m actually pretty sensitive about my painting. The last thing I want is to end up in that awkward situation where someone’s telling me how awesome my art is because they don’t want t
o hurt my feelings.
“Oh come on, you aren’t the only one with an artistic side.” He tugs on his sleeve just enough to reveal a small flash of color.
“Wait, you have a tattoo?” I reach forward without thinking and he snatches his arm back.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he jokes, unbuttoning his cuff and rolling it back for me to see.
“Is that…?” I snicker.
“Lightning McQueen. Yes, yes it is.” Carter stares at me, daring me to make a joke about him having a cartoon race car on his arm. “It involved a bet, a lot of alcohol and an older brother with no sense of shame. Is that a problem?”
“No, no.” I hold up my hands, barely keeping in my laughter. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. You don’t seem the type. All business and stuff. Suit and tie, not ink and dye.”
“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to mean that you think I’m too stuffy or too non-committal,” he says with a chuckle. “But if you’re curious, you’re welcome to invite me back to your place after dinner and I’ll show you my art if you show me yours.”
“Are there more? Where?” I’m curious in spite of myself, and by the look on his face, he can tell. “This is like finding out Grandpa was in the merchant marines or something.”
“Jesus, I’m only twenty-six, not your fucking grandpa. You’re making me sound like some over-the hill businessman with a pristine Harley in the garage I take out three times a year with my Rotary buddies.”
“Hey, if the custom order, leather riding chaps fit…”
He throws a roll at me.
I catch it and take a bite, still grinning. “I’m just teasing. I have one too.”
“Seriously? You? Where?”
“You’re going to have to guess, because there’s no way you’re going to see it. This is a professional business dinner, remember?” I almost manage to keep a straight face. Almost.
Carter laughs loud enough to startle our waiter, who arrives with dessert and a slender bottle of pale white wine to match. He sets our plates down gently and pours the wine into small glasses. Our final course for the evening is a beautiful arrangement of small sorbet balls and chocolate sticks surrounded by a spiral of red sauce that circles the plate.
