Chapter 28
“Do you know what you want?” As I look up from the menu, Daniel’s intense gaze meets mine.
“I know exactly what I want,” he murmurs seductively.
Tingles.
Naughty, naughty tingles.
“And what exactly is it…” — my fingertips brush delicately across my collarbone and stop at my cleavage — “…you want?”
“I want you,” he pauses for a beat, his eyes linger over the menu before meeting mine, “to order first.”
That sexy pause was deliberate. Oh, he’s good.
But I’m better.
“Okay.” Ignoring my quickening pulse, I continue. “For an appetizer, I’ll have the jamón wrapped around two sweet, delicious…” my fingertips sweep lightly across my cleavage again, “…melons.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Melons?”
“You do like them, don’t you? Honeydew. Cantaloupe. Nice. Soft. Fleshy. Melons?” I ask in a breathy tone.
He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut before uttering a word, and frowns.
“What?” I ask, proud that I’ve rendered him speechless.
“It would be inappropriate to say what I was thinking.”
“Since when do you worry about saying something inappropriate?”
“Since you brought up your fleshy melons.”
“You don’t like meat wrapped around the flesh of a nice, firm melon?”
“Oh, I’ve got a meat I’d like to wrap around…” he stops himself again, studies me with an amused twinkle in his eyes, and laughs.
“Wow. That went south fast,” I say with a chuckle.
“Maybe we should stick with non-double entendre foods tonight? Work for you?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Shrimp doesn’t refer to any of your body parts, does it?” I tease.
“No,” he answers quickly. “Definitely not.”
“That’s very good to know.”
“How’s the grilled shrimp?” Daniel asks.
“Delicious. I’m glad they weren’t on the depraved foods list. How’s the salmon?”
“Good. The béarnaise sauce is excellent. Which you’ll find out soon enough when you steal some off my plate.”
“I don’t steal, I take with permission. Do you mind?” Reaching across the table, I cut a small piece with my fork and savor its delicate flavor. “Mmm. That’s amazing.”
“You know,” he sarcastically points out, “asking for permission after you’ve already taken it isn’t asking for permission.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing that. I never did that with Matt.”
“Your ex?”
I give a subtle nod.
“So, he has an actual name?” he jokes.
“He lied so much…who knows if it was his real name?”
“Just think… if things turned out differently, you and I would still be here. But you’d be married to some guy named after something you wipe your muddy shoes on. And I’d be fantasizing about the sexy newlywed who’s path I just crossed.”
“If I’m completely honest, I probably would have given you a second glance as you walked by,” I confess.
“And stealthily checked out my sultans?”
“What can I say?” I give a casual shrug. “I like a man who’s not afraid to sway.”
With a chuckle, he continues eating his dinner. “So… Wham?”
“Huh?”
“Your phone alarm went off this morning. You’re a Wham fan?”
“Oh that. My ex set that song. I never learned how to change it.”
“You don’t like the song?”
“I do. But I’d prefer a little variety. Add it to the list of things that idiot ruined for me.” I exhale a sigh of frustration. “Someday I’ll figure out how to replace it.”
A dull buzzing noise abruptly interrupts our conversation. I ignore it.
The buzzing sound returns for a second time. I pretend I don’t hear it.
Buzz, buzz again.
“Are you going to answer your phone?” Daniel asks, peeking at my small vibrating clutch bag slung over the corner of my chair.
“I’d rather not,” I deadpan.
“If you don’t answer it, she’ll send the National Guard to find you. Then she’ll hire a private army to chop off parts of me I’d prefer to keep.”
“Probably true.” Twisting in my seat, I dip my hand in my bag, pull out my phone, and read the waiting text. “Ugh.” I roll my eyes and hold out the phone. “It’s for you.”
“You’re kidding?” Amused, he takes the phone from my hand.
“Nope. The Colon-Crazed Gut Nut has found her newest victim. Congrats.”
With a chuckle, he reads the waiting message and taps out a response.
Propping my chin in the palm of my hand, I watch Daniel texting with my mother. His mouth twitches up whenever the phone pings back a message.
“Here you go.” He hands the phone back to me. “She said she’ll text you sometime tomorrow.”
“That’s it? She’s leaving me alone?”
“Yup.”
“Should I be horrified to read what the two of you texted?”
“Nah,” he dismisses. “But it might be better if you wait until after our date to read it.”
“That bad, huh?”
His lips curl up into a beaming grin.
Yeah, it’s that bad.
“Okay.” I slip the phone back into my bag. “I’ll deal with the crazy lady later.”
“Does she only contact you by text?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to call?”
I look down at my lap and smile. “She doesn’t know she can.”
“What?” His brow creases in a furrow. “Why?”
“I told her I don’t have an international phone plan.”
“So, you lied to her,” he says, amused.
“Kinda. Well, yeah. My father knows if there’s an actual emergency, he can call.”
“He lied to her, too?”
“He didn’t lie. He simply didn’t offer the whole truth. As a favor to me. I needed a breather, and he knows how she can be,” I say with a chuckle. “Texting tempers her crazy.”
“Your father sounds like a solid guy.”
“He is.”
“You’re lucky to have parents who care about you.”
“I am.” For as trying as they are, they’re still the best. “How about your parents?”
“Divorced when I was a kid. Unlike mine, theirs was amicable. Kudos to them for keeping the drama to a minimum for my sister’s and my sake. They’re both remarried. Everyone gets along. My father, stepfather, and I even go to a cigar bar in SoHo together occasionally.”
“So that’s where you picked up that repulsive cigar habit!”
“You mispronounce remarkable,” he corrects with a devilish grin.
“Speaking of… I haven’t inhaled those offensive fumes on my balcony since our first encounter. Why is that?” I ask, the memory of the choking smoke stench is still fresh in my mind.
“I stopped smoking on the balcony.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked me not to.”
“But you said…” I trail off.
“I was being el selfish-o, el stupid-o, and el jerk-o,” he interrupts with a smirk, repeating my Spanish-ish name calling from that day. “It’s your vacation too. You shouldn’t have to inhale my smoke when I can easily go elsewhere. The next night, after we had dinner at the hibachi place, I took a stroll after you went in and smoked my stogie at the designated outdoor smoking area.”
“So, that’s where you went.” At the time, I assumed he went out searching for a one-night stand or was trying to avoid me.
“When I got back, I sat on my balcony until I was sure it was extinguished. I didn’t want to stink up my room. I haven’t smoked one on the balcony since.”
“Why not?”
He looks at me guardedly, his eyes searching for my reaction.
“You stopped for me?” I ask, my heart fluttering at the thought.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe yes? Or maybe no?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to read too much into it.”
“Okay,” he answers cautiously.
“I really like you,” I confess.
He smiles warmly. “I really like you too.”
“We can never let my mother know she was right.”
“About what?”
“She said she knew yesterday was a hard day. But hard days pass,” I pause for a beat with a slight shrug, “and you get a better one.”
“That’s good advice.”
“Hey Daniel?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me a better one.”