by T Gephart
“So, how’s things?” Really that was the best I was able to offer? At this rate I wasn’t going to be able to make it past appetizers before I dissolved into a white-hot mess. I lifted the glass, draining almost half of it.
“Things are pretty fucking awesome. But you knew that.” His lips twitched into an amused smile. All that smooth, sexy yum he so effortlessly had going on twisted my insides.
“Well, I guess that’s one benefit of having your rise to fame documented in the press.” My mouth babbled without proper consultation with my brain. “You don’t have to waste time with filing in the blanks.” Uh, why was I acting so lame?
“One of the benefits for sure. What about you?” His head nodded in my direction. “I haven’t had the advantage of press coverage. How’s things?” He asked with a finesse I clearly hadn’t possessed.
“Great. Really, really great.” I twisted the stem of my now empty wine glass cursing the lack of alcohol in it. They should really make bigger glasses or at least pour these ones to the very top. Wasted space if you asked me. Crap, he was looking at me like I should be continuing, and I couldn’t think of one single thing to say.
Thankfully I was saved—no exaggeration I was literally drowning in my own awkwardness—from having to elaborate as our server approached the table. The girl couldn’t be more than twenty-one, her ponytail swishing as she moved with an eager ready-to-please attitude. And as my gateway to more wine, I immediately welcomed her interruption.
“Hi, I’m Natalie.” She stared at Max her mouth opening and closing wordlessly obviously forgetting the script. The confidence she exuded two minutes ago evaporating as she took in the awesome that was Max Reynolds.
Honestly I felt bad for the girl, I’d been having a hard time getting my words out too and I didn’t have to deal with the first time jitters the man in front of me seemed to invoke. “I-I’ll be your waitress.” She tried again, her hand nervously tugged at her apron. “Ca-Can I tell you about our specials?”
It wasn’t new seeing women around him getting all hot and bothered. He’d always had that affect. His tall well-built frame, ridiculous good looks, paired off with an amazing smile—there’s only so much a girl can take. That had been before he’d morphed into the super-hot version of what I was currently sitting across from. Add the fame factor and poor Natalie didn’t stand a chance. I almost wanted to high five her just for getting through it.
“I’m fine, Beth? You want to know the specials?”
Max of course was oblivious; his do-me pheromone assaulting the female population as he sat there passively, completely unaffected.
“Umm. Sure.” Shit. My mouth panicked, agreeing to hear the spiel of shit-I-wasn’t-going-to-order. And other than buy me more time to get my shit together, it served no purpose other than to torture the poor girl. Call it a quirk, but if it wasn’t on the regular menu—tried and tested—I don’t want it.
Natalie seemed to share my momentary panic, her eyes widening in horror at having to continue. The flustered, unsteady words slowly making their way out of her mouth somehow coming together coherently. Just for that she deserved a decent tip.
By the time she’d finished I had no idea what she’d actually said. Sure I’d picked up a few key words—grain-feed something with a something jus—and nodded in all the right places. But none of it had been remotely helpful in ordering dinner, my open menu not providing any assistance either. I’d reread the thing at least ten times but had been unable to focus.
“Are you ready to order or would you like some more time?” She asked, the unspoken plea to put her out of her misery bubbling just below the surface.
“Ummm.” Cue the deer in headlights panic that rose inside me. “More wine?” The only thing I was really sure I wanted—scratch that, needed—right now.
“The steak here is amazing.” My eyes focused on his mouth as he championed the Porterhouse. Never had the word steak been so sexy. “Perhaps you could get that to go with the wine? Unless you’ve turned vegetarian.”
At this point even if I had given up meat—which I hadn’t—I would have agreed. Hell, I would have eaten fifty of them. It would have been worth a case of the meat sweats just to hear him say amazing one more time.
“Sure, sounds good.” I nodded my head before refocusing on my still empty glass. “Can I also get another glass of white for now and then a red to go with the main?” Might as well be prepared, it would save me waving her over every fifteen minutes. Actually, could I just have a standing order for a refill whenever my glass was empty? Someone should really make that a thing.
“We’ll have two steaks, medium rare and one of every side on the menu. We’ll share.” He handed back the menus as the waitress nodded hopefully committing our order to memory. The lack of pen and paper had me worried, not so much for the food per se, but for those drinks I desperately needed.
I watched as she ponytail-swooshed away from us, my eyes returning to Max whose attention hadn’t moved from me the entire time. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was staring.
“Wow, every side, huh? You must be either hungry or carb loading.” I giggled nervously before metaphorically shaking myself. Seriously, get in the game, Beth. What the hell are you saying?
“Well you can never be too sure what you’re going to want until it’s sitting in front of you. I’ve learned not to leave things like that to chance.” Somehow I didn’t think he was talking about the choice between baked potato and mac n cheese.
On cue, Natalie dutifully returned with my glass of white, placing it on the table before swooshing off again, Max’s eyes remaining on me. Not in a way that was simply polite either.
While my stomach flipped somersaults at the attention—I couldn’t be sure the flutter wasn’t due to hunger—my brain was telling me to pull on the emergency brake. Been there, done that annnnnd had moved on. This wasn’t a date, remember. I could be in a room and not have my heart hurt or want to rip out his and that had to count for something.
Besides, it didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Max was a flirt. Always had been and always would be and his talent was to make you feel exactly like he was making me feel right now. Like everything else around me didn’t exist. He’d done the same thing to Natalie unintentionally. So best all those expectations get pushed to the side right now. We were friends and that’s where it ended.
“You know,” I picked up my glass and took a sip. “This is really nice.” A nice dinner, good company—it didn’t have to be complicated.
“I think so too.” His fingers curled around the neck of his beer as he brought it to his lips. “So tell me about your job.”
I’m not sure if it was the second glass of wine or the easy conversation, but whatever nerves I had been feeling had eased by the time our dinner was served. We both laughed as Natalie struggled to fit the ridiculous amount of plates on our table. The calories about to be consumed enough to last me a whole week. Thank god I had found a new gym, one that didn’t have micro penis as a member.
“I can’t believe you got rid of your old car, you loved that thing.” My hand unconsciously reached across the table and touched his. I blame the wine for the touchy-feel display. He didn’t ask me to move it so I didn’t.
“Nah, I only loved it because it was all I could afford. Besides, it was time for an upgrade.”
Through the course of the meal we had done our mutual verbal spillage. Filling in the years that we hadn’t seen each other, the distance seemed to melt away. We’d even found room for dessert, neither of us ready to call it a night. The food, the conversation—it was nice. Really nice.
Unfortunately the warm gooey feeling didn’t last, the night destined to come to a crashing finale.
“Oh, fuck. Shit.” I’d meant to only think it, but those words shot out of my mouth as I ducked my head. My peripheral vision caught sight of micro penis walking in. The quick second look confirmed that it was in fact him and not some weird coincidental dop
pelgänger talking to the host probably trying to get a table.
“What?” Max asked, turning around no doubt to see what had made me spew out obscenities for no apparent reason.
“No, don’t turn around.” I yanked on his arm trying to focus his attention away from the door. “If you look you’ll attract attention.”
The universe was surely conspiring against me. This had to be an elaborate prank. Or I was being punished for telling him I would call again when I had no intention of calling. Either way, the universe was an asshole.
“O-kay,” Max refocused on me and kindly ignored the death grip I had on his arm. “You want to talk me through it if I can’t turn around?”
“It’s a guy.” My mouth rapidly firing out an explanation. “I dated him once and it was a complete disaster. I said I would call, but I never did. I’ve been trying to avoid him.”
I’m not sure if it was mention of my ex or my horrible date that made Max’s jaw clench, his body straightening as he reached over and touched my hand.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice rumbled as his mood darkened, the casual laidback guy from five minutes ago replaced by Captain Fierce.
“No, no of course not. I just didn’t think I’d see him again.”
I mean what were the chances. I’d banished myself from the gym even though my recurring “discounted” monthly fee was going to be charged for the next six months. And there was no danger of me losing my damn mind and welcoming the clean-eating-holistic-taste-like-ass lifestyle he seemed to subscribe to. So our paths should have no reason to cross.
In fact, why the hell was he here? Christina’s was literally swimming with bad food choices—ones loaded with butter and cheese—surely those would act, at the very least, as some kind of kryptonite? And if not why the hell didn’t we eat here instead of that massacre of a meal where we did.
“I think he’s seen us.” I cursed softly under my breath, the full restaurant dictating he had to wait for a table to come available. “Pretend we’re on a date.”
“Ahhh, Beth, we are on date.” He looked at me like I was insane.
“No, not like this.” I whispered across the table, the insanity he’d suspected proving itself as I continued. “Like a proper one where you are really into me. Touch me and stuff. Like you can’t keep your hands off me.”
“So you want me to touch you, like I want you.” An amused smile returned to his lips, his hand reaching across the table and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. His thumb grazed my cheek as he stared into my eyes, his fingers curling underneath my chin. Oh, he was good. I even bought it.
“Wow, yeah. Keep doing that.” I mumbled trying to discreetly glance in the direction I’d last seen micro penis. Torn between wanting him to be gone and wanting him to stay, his presence giving me a taste of Max even if it was just pretend.
“He’s still watching.” A quick survey found he was not only in the same spot, but now openly staring. “Here let me feed you some dessert.”
“Beth, you can’t, I—”
“I know it’s corny, just please do it.”
I was literally begging. Not sure why, I mean did I really care what the asshole thought? No, I didn’t, but what I didn’t want was some sort of confrontation in this nice establishment. Or anywhere because when it came to confrontation I sucked at it. Case in point, the boyfriend I hadn’t really ever broken up with sitting across from me.
“Okay.” A slow breath escaped his lips as he gave in, his eyes falling to the spoon I had dutifully loaded up with the strawberry shortcake I had barely touched.
He hesitated a beat before his mouth curled around the spoon, the strawberry coulis spilling onto his lips. The urge to lick it off was almost too great as I reminded myself where I was.
Damn he was good, his eyes closing as he savored the spoonful. I involuntarily moaned, not for anyone else’s benefit—I doubted anyone could hear us—but because I just couldn’t stop myself. His act completely fooled everyone; even I felt he was captivated by me.
“Beth.” His fingers brushed my cheek again. “We should go.”
Ordinarily I would have been onboard with this—my MO apparently getting out while the goings good—but leaving meant passing him. I mean, he was standing right near the door. Was I supposed to wave on my way out? Or pretend I’d developed blindness and couldn’t see the almost seven-foot tall giant who was blocking the doorway? That confrontation I was so keen to avoid would be getting airtime.
“Not yet, we even haven’t finished dessert.” I gave him my best seductive smile and hoped I didn’t look like a stroke victim.
“That must have been one hell of a bad date.” Max smiled, either buying into my seduction routine or amused by the effort.
“Trust me, the worst.” I loaded up my spoon again literally squirming at the thought of feeding him. I’ll admit I was probably enjoying it too much but go hard or go home, right? “He’s still looking.”
“Well, then we should give him something to look at.” Without warning Max was on his feet and beside my chair, his hand pulling me up to my feet. I had no time to even think about what was happening as his lips came down on mine.
His fingers trailed down my spine, coming to rest on my lower back as he pulled me in closer. His mouth devouring mine, possessively as I completely forgot what the hell we were doing.
It wasn’t a sweet kiss—no—it was hot and deep, his lips owning mine as he pulled me closer. It was nothing like I remembered, about a thousand times more intense. It was bending the laws of public decency and I didn’t care.
I took no notice if we were being watched—everything in the room fading into insignificance—as my body melded to his. And almost as suddenly as it started he pulled his mouth away. It was too soon, my lips still tingling from being pressed against his, my head slightly dizzy from the rush.
He didn’t waste time or ask questions as he waved over our server while fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. The hand that was dangerously low on my back stayed in place as we watched Natalie scamper over like a dutiful puppy. Her face a little worried as to why we were standing, eating each other instead of the food we’d ordered.
“Hi, is everything okay?” She looked down to the half-eaten desserts and unfinished glass of wine, our dinner not able to come to a natural conclusion.
“We need to leave in a hurry.” Max pulled out a couple of bills and handed them over. “This should cover it; dinner was great, thanks.” And judging by Natalie’s face, it included quite a sizeable tip.
She looked over the Presidents in her hand, reexamining them to make sure they were in fact Benjamins and not Jacksons. “Um . . . Do you want me to wrap anything for you?”
“Nope, thanks. You’ve been great.” Max handed me my purse which had been sitting on the table beside us. “Beth, we need to leave now.”
“Sure.” I smiled a little too enthusiastically, and it had nothing to do with the audience as he guided my body away from the table.
In a maneuver that would have made Mikhail Baryshnikov jealous, he twirled me around and pulled me close into his side, waltzing toward the front door with his arms around me.
If anyone was still there and/or watching, I no longer cared. I wasn’t even sure if he or I were acting anymore.
That kiss—the one I could still feel on my lips—had been amazing. It lit a fire inside of me that I could never have faked. And as bad an idea as I knew it was, I wanted another. My previous arguments on why we should remain just friends, no longer seeming valid.
We walked out, my eyes on Max the entire time. I legitimately didn’t see nor care about anyone else in the room, my feet doing their best at keeping me upright and walking at the same time.
“My car isn’t far.” He didn’t even ask if I was going home with him, he just rightfully assumed I was. I ignored the fact that we lived in the same apartment building, so technically he could just be offering me a ride. Shut up logic, I’m way beyond you now.
&nb
sp; “Okay,” I agreed, my feet moving faster than I thought they probably needed to.
Obviously I hadn’t been the only one who needed another kiss, the desperation to get us to his car and alone evident in the pace we were keeping, at this point almost running down the street. Which considering I was wearing heels, took quite the effort.
“Um, Max, we should slow down.” A sprained ankle would seriously put a damper on things. And while I was anxious to be alone—and have those lips on me again—we weren’t racing against a clock. It was only nine-thirty tops, I was fairly sure neither of us were turning into pumpkins at midnight.
“Actually we can’t. We need to get to a drug store, now.”
We stopped in front of his classic black muscle car, which I’d assumed was either going to be the venue for more action or take us to somewhere that would be. The key going into the door confirmed it as he yanked open the door. “Please get in Beth, we need to go.”
I hadn’t thought past the kiss.
Normally, you could share a kiss after a date—even though it hadn’t originally been a date—and there would be no expectations of more. There was a system, but when you had already slept with the person, there was a certain gray area as to what base we should be sliding into. Not saying I didn’t want a homerun, I mean, maybe? Oh hell, I had no idea what I wanted, I was so confused.
“Max, we should slow down—I mean, we need to talk—”
“Beth, whatever you are thinking, it’s not.” He cut me off not allowing me to continue. “The dessert you were so insistent you shovel into my mouth had strawberries in it.”
Well, yeah of course it did. It was a strawberry shortcake, it said right there in the title.
OH SHIT!
“You’re allergic to strawberries,” I almost screamed, my mind and body hitting the panic as his desperation made sense. “Oh. My. God.” I struggled to not hyperventilate, was he going to die? “Why did you eat it?”
“I tried to say no; you made it very difficult.”
