“Yeah, yeah.” Slamming the door, he fell in step beside her.
Delilah was a girl who knew how to dress. Wearing an electric blue dress that clung to every curve and four inch electric blue heels, she looked amazing.
“And, uh, try to at least look like you like me,” she said, grabbing his hand and putting it around her waist. She looked up at him and flashed a smile. “There. That’s better.”
The closer they got to Kiyoshi Steakhouse and Sushi Bar, the more he began to think this was a horrible idea. He should have never let Delilah talk him into this crazy scheme.
At the hostess stand, Delilah slipped out of his arm and leaned casually toward the girl. “Hiya,” she greeted. “Is Jack here?”
“Delilah Storm, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a voice boomed before the girl could reply.
She turned and greeted him with a hug. He kissed her loudly on the cheek. “Jack, how are you?”
“Missing you, apparently. Where have you been?”
“Work has kept me busy,” she said. “This is my very good friend, Graeme Butler.”
As she introduced him, Jack stretched his hand to Graeme. The two men shook.
Then she said in a rough whisper, “He’s sort of a famous painter. I was hoping you’d have a spot for us? Even though we don’t have reservations…” She almost purred as she placed one hand on his perfectly crisp dress shirt and then ran it down his red silk tie.
“Of course I do. And the first round of drinks are on me.”
She smiled demurely. “You’re so good to me, Jack.”
Damn, she was good. Jack waved them toward the dining room.
She leaned toward Graeme, her voice low. “See? I told you. And it looks like the love birds are already here.”
To Graeme’s complete and utter horror, Jack led them to the very same hibachi as Ethan and Marion. He grabbed Delilah by the arm and pulled her to a stop.
“This wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to go to the bar.”
“Relax,” she grinned. “Everything will work out.”
But Graeme wasn’t so sure.
* * * * *
Marion couldn’t believe what she was about to do. After her mother’s phone call, she had finally made up her mind closing the door on her past relationship with Ethan was what she needed. And dinner alone with him would be the only way she could get that.
The only person she mentioned it to was Delilah, and even then she didn’t tell her the whole story. She only said she had agreed to dinner. Not that she was going for her own personal agenda. Marion waited until she was moments away from leaving her house to meet him so Delilah wouldn’t try and talk her out if it. Because, to Delilah, once she broke up with someone, they were dead to her.
Ethan eagerly accepted her suggestion of dinner and allowed her to pick the restaurant. Probably because he thought she had intended to entertain the idea of getting back together.
So she picked Kiyoshi Steakhouse and Sushi Bar, a swank Japanese steakhouse on the edge of downtown. She hoped the sounds of knives chopping and slicing would be the proper background for the big break up/fuck you scene she’d planned in her mind all day. She wore her favorite black shirt, a pair of jeans, and her silver heels. Nothing too flashy and certainly nothing that would give him the wrong idea. She hoped.
The only way she would agree to see him was if she met him at the restaurant. He was already there waiting for her. He greeted her with a smile and a wave.
“They wouldn’t seat me until you arrived.” He kissed her on the cheek. “You look amazing, as usual.”
“Thanks.” Calm and cool. Just like she had planned.
The steakhouse was a hot spot. There were ten hibachi areas and all of them nearly full. The cook wouldn’t arrive until each seat was taken. There were two seats left at the table which they were seated. It wouldn’t be long before they were filled.
He ordered a gin and tonic and she a glass of white wine. And as they waited for the drinks to arrive, she wondered what to talk about. She opened her mouth to come up with some benign question when she suddenly froze. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
Graeme and Delilah walked toward their table. She blinked, hoping she imagined it. But no. There they were. And the worst part was…it looked like they were on a date.
Chapter Sixteen
“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked. “Your face paled.”
Their drinks arrived the same time as her traitorous best friend and the asshole she thought she was falling for. The asshole she had allowed to sketch her. The same asshole that cut her to the bone.
“Nothing.” She forced a smile and reached for her wine glass, taking a sip. But her stomach was churning and the wine tasted like acid.
The way Delilah kept giving Graeme adoring looks as they walked toward their table made her sick. And then Delilah feigned surprise as she looked at the two of them.
She narrowed her eyes. What the hell was Delilah up to?
“Marion and Ethan,” she said, putting on her best faux smile. “Well, this is awkward.” Somehow, Delilah managed to drape her body over Graeme, as if she were the latest fashion accessory, giving him adoring looks.
“Ah, that’s nice. You folks know each other?” the man who’d led them to the table asked.
“Oh, sure. We’re old friends.” Delilah winked. At him, Graeme, or her, Marion couldn’t be sure.
“Delilah, what are you doing here?” She asked through gritted teeth. Her friend knew she’d be here with Ethan, so why the fake surprise?
Ethan craned his neck to see the two standing behind Delilah. He gave Graeme a once over and glanced at Delilah long enough to take her in, but said nothing. His face said it all though. He had a clear, See? Your friends suck look.
“I’m having dinner with an old friend, that’s what.” She slipped her hand in the crook of Graeme’s elbow and smiled at him, batting her long lashes.
“You folks enjoy, then.”
“Thanks, Jack,” Delilah called as the man sauntered away.
But Marion knew that come hither look all too well. She nearly laughed out loud but clamped her jaw shut. Despite the fact she hadn’t spoken a word to Graeme in nearly a week, she was very curious to see how Delilah was going to play this one out.
Marion finally noticed Graeme, focusing her attention away from her best friend to him. He hadn’t taken his gaze off her. He looked quite dashing in a white dress shirt, no tie and the collar open at the neck. She tried very hard not to look down but she did note he wore gray slacks. He looked freshly shaved, his hair neatly combed. Not that he wasn’t neat or well groomed—he was. But it seemed as though he had taken extra effort.
And he smelled really good. Even standing apart, she could smell the faint scent of that cologne she loved so well.
Anything she had to say to Delilah died on her tongue right there.
“Marion,” Graeme said with a nod. “It’s good to see you.”
He sounded as though he meant. Her heart lurched and her stomach plunged to her toes and all she wanted to do was fall into his arms.
Was it her imagination or did he lean toward her? “Graeme, I—”
She couldn’t stop looking into those delicious pale blue eyes. And she wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to say. It was as though the entire world fell away and they were the only two people standing in the middle of the busy restaurant. The din of voices hushed, the clang of silverware went silent and the clink of glasses was gone.
Her heart was in her throat, pounding a mad tattoo. She could swear he leaned toward her, his scent wafting over her, pulling her in. Beckoning her closer. His lips parted ever so slightly, his lids half-closed. Any minute now, he was going to—
“Sit, Marion,” Ethan said, his voice flat and demanding.
The spell broke. Graeme pulled out his chair, the legs scraping on the floor, and sat down. He fluffed out his napkin with a snap of cloth and placed it on his thigh as if nothing had happened at all
.
Up until now, Ethan had been silent. Almost as though he ignored the fact Graeme, the man who gave him the bruises still fading on his face, and Delilah took seats right next to them. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Marion sat. She instantly regretted doing what he asked. Already she fell back into those old patterns.
“Hello, Ethan,” Graeme said. He leaned forward, trying to make eye contact.
But Ethan would have none of it and continued to ignore him. Marion, though, found it rather interesting Graeme chose to sit next to her on her left, Ethan on her right. And Delilah on the other side of Graeme, checking her lipstick in her mirror. She crossed her long legs and looked completely drop dead gorgeous. Most of the men at the table couldn’t keep their eyes off her.
With her stomach in knots, she wasn’t sure she would be able to eat. She made a silent vow to make sure Delilah suffered for putting her in this position.
The waiter arrived and they ordered drinks. Her leg bobbed up and down at a furious rate—a sure sign of her nerves. Her heel clicked a rapid beat on the floor. At last the chef arrived and fired up the hibachi grill and taking orders.
“I hope you don’t mind, Mar, us showing up here,” Delilah said in her sing-song voice.
She wanted to smack her. “Mind?” she asked smoothly, her voice a low sultry whisper. “Why should I mind?”
“Oh, good.” She leaned on Graeme, one hand slipping across his thigh. “Graeme and I haven’t had a chance to play catch up like you two. Have we, Graeme?”
She gritted her teeth, wanting to smack her best friend. What sort of game was Delilah playing? Graeme, at least, had the good sense to look uncomfortable. He placed his hand over Delilah’s, griped it, and then casually moved it off his thigh. Marion knew he was trying not to let her see, but she did.
It was a small victory. But it didn’t faze Delilah one bit. She continued to smile, making sure her red full lips looked as inviting as possible. She flipped a strand of long wavy strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder in one of her more sultry moves.
“No, we haven’t.” He sounded less than thrilled at the prospect and Marion suppressed a giggle.
“I don’t know why you’re giving either of them the time of day,” Ethan said. “Clearly, they’re up to no good.”
Boy, did he sound like a stuffy asshole. She decided she could play their game. The chef had moved to the couple next to them, sharpening his knives and chatting with them. Something he said made them laugh.
“Oh, I don’t know, darling. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence they’re here at the same time.”
As the word darling crossed her lips, Ethan’s head snapped up. He looked at her as though she’d grown a second head. Marion had never called him anything but Ethan in the two years they’d been a couple. Graeme stared her down with a heated glare.
“You and I both know this is no coincidence.” Ethan sounded downright accusatory.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Just as you and I know my mother calling me about us getting back together is no coincidence.”
“Your mother called you?” Graeme asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Ethan reached for his gin and tonic and took a healthy swig. The ice tinkled against the glass as he drained it.
“Yes, you do,” she snapped. “My mother told me she ran into yours and you’ve been ‘so forlorn’ without me. That you were ‘devastated.’”
“Finally, this is getting good,” Delilah said, leaning forward on the table to get a good look at the action.
“I was devastated.” He looked hurt, giving her those sad brown puppy dog eyes.
Well, it wasn’t going to work this time. “Oh? So devastated you fucked some other girl in our bed?”
Silence immediately descended on the crowd. The Japanese chef, who had been laughing and sharpening his knives, stopped mid-sharp. Several pairs of eyes landed on Ethan and Marion.
Ethan gave her withering stare and she was all too aware of her scathing words. Her palms broke into a nasty sweat.
“How dare you.” His voice was low with warning.
But she would have none of it. Knowing all too well his dislike for public displays of anything, she pressed on.
“How dare I what? Speak the truth? Tell it like it is? Let the whole world know that you’re a lying, cheating bastard?”
“I’m going to have to ask you to stop talking to me like that,” he said, glancing around at the crowd.
“And if I don’t?” she taunted. “You can’t hurt me anymore.” She flung her napkin on the table, her hands shaking. “I am such an idiot for allowing you to talk me into coming here.”
She rose, so quickly her chair scraped against the floor and nearly toppled. Graeme stood with her, reaching for her.
“Marion—”
“Just don’t.”
She pinned him with a glare and they stared each other down for a long minute. Finally she snatched her purse and left the table, seeking the restrooms. Behind her, she could hear the distinctive click and flip of Delilah in her four inch slides following her.
She suddenly had a splitting headache. And the one sip of wine she had taken churned in her acidic stomach. She burst into the bathroom, tossed her handbag on the marble counter and leaned over a sink, trying to compose herself.
Delilah flung open the door only seconds after her. As it banged closed, she stood there, silent. Waiting.
“What?” Marion finally said. “What, Delilah?”
“I think you know what.”
Delilah moved to stand next to her, staring at her reflection in the mirror. A faucet dripped nearby, the only sound in the entire bathroom. It echoed off the tile walls and metal stalls.
“Maybe you’ll tell me what the hell you’re doing with Graeme,” Marion suggested.
“Can’t you see it’s an intervention?”
“I don’t need an intervention. I can take care of myself.”
“You’re here with Ethan, aren’t you? Something had to snap you back to your senses,” Delilah said.
“So you show up with him, falling all over him?” Marion asked.
“That was all an act. He begged me, Mar. He said he needed to talk to you in person.”
“So?” Tears clogged her throat and pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill.
“So, he loves you.”
She couldn’t take much more of this. She thought her heart would stop and she wished it would. Then she would be put out of her misery. She could see the headline now. Woman dies of a broken heart in swank Japanese hibachi restroom.
Graeme loved her. It wasn’t quite the same hearing Delilah say it. What a big fat who cares. He had his shot and he blew it that day he gave her the cold shoulder in the gallery.
“And?” Marion asked.
“And doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“No.” She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. Should it mean something? Should she care? It was a little late for that.
“That’s not like your, Mar. You usually give people a chance.”
“I gave him a shot,” she said bitterly. “It’s over. And I can’t believe you of all people would bring him here, tonight, when you knew I was here with Ethan!”
“I brought him here hoping you would realize you were about to make another mistake!” she shouted back. “I can’t believe Ethan is the person you decided to give a second chance.”
“Don’t start with me.”
“Jesus, Mar. You are so thick sometimes. Graeme is head over heels in love with you. Don’t you see? When are you going to wake up and realize he’s the one? He’s the man you’ve been dreaming of your entire life.”
“If he’s so in love with me, then why didn’t he call me after that day at the gallery?” Marion demanded.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” To press her point, Marion shoved her index finger in her friend’s face. “And why are you so suddenly on his side? After that day,
you practically crucified him.”
“People make mistakes,” Delilah said. “It was a poor judgment. And he has his reasons for doing what he did. He told me about it on the drive over.”
“Whatever.” She spun back toward the sink, gripping the edge of the counter. Anger had replaced her hurt and all she wanted to do was lash out. “You’re sleeping with him.”
“What?”
“That’s why you brought him here. So you could flaunt him in front of me. You win!” She held up her hands in surrender, knowing even as the words spilled from her mouth she was irrational. Still, she couldn’t stop herself.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You always were better at getting the men to fall for you than I was.”
“Marion, that is a bunch of bull and you know it.”
“Uh huh.” Her heart pounded furiously now. It was rare Delilah used her full first name in any conversation and she knew she must have really made her angry. At this point, though, there was no going back. “You can have him. Besides, he’s great in the sack.”
Delilah clutched her bag under an arm, giving her a heated look. The color was high in her cheeks. She didn’t say a word as she breezed by her and left the bathroom, the door slamming closed behind her.
* * * * *
Graeme watched the two ladies walk briskly from the table and rose. Ethan rose too.
“Give it up, man,” Ethan said. “She’s mine.” He gave Graeme a self-satisfied grin.
“After that display, I really don’t think so.” His gazed flickered to Ethan, that same malcontent sweeping over him as before when he punched him in the donut shop.
“It’s really no use.” It sounded like a warning.
“What’s your agenda anyway? You don’t love her. I know you don’t.”
Ethan shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I do.”
He wasn’t sure if he meant maybe he loved her…or maybe he had an agenda. He suspected the latter.
“Stay away from her,” Ethan said.
“Or what? She’s a grown woman. She can decide who she wants and I don’t think it’s you,” he fired back.
Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) Page 16
