Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
T here wasn’t much that could throw Martina off her game. While she’d never worked this closely with the matchmaker before, Tatum Hansen had been friends with the magnetic woman since she’d walked up to Tatum at a ballroom exhibition and offered to hire her for special events in her business. Since then, she’d worked with clients of all ages to polish up or begin their relationship with dancing. Martina and Tatum both agreed that a man who could handle himself on a dance floor was just about as sexy as a man could get.
But the man who walked up to the dining room entrance was worth looking at even if he had two left feet.
Too bad he had a woman on his arm that looked like a million bucks. Okay, a billion, but that’s what they were dealing with here. Tatum knew she was way out of her league.
She could tell without looking that Martina wasn’t just on edge, she was probably clenching her teeth together. One look at the normally graceful line of Martina’s back spoke volumes. She was holding herself tight enough to snap if she didn’t take a breath soon.
"Hello, Martina!" The woman’s voice was bright, but while she looked like a perfectly nice woman, there was a sharp edge to her energy that put Tatum on guard. "I’m so glad I caught you. I found Alex, so you don’t have to worry about the whole ‘introduction thing’ for us. All you have to do is show us to our table and we’ll be out of your hair."
Martina’s indrawn breath was a little short, but her smile was flawless. "While I’m not going to ask how you found out that Alexander was the gentleman who we matched you with… I’m afraid there’s an order to all of the events tonight."
"Yes, yes," her laughter was lovely, and every finger that smoothed over his sleeve was perfectly elegant and graceful, "but Alex and I have known each other for what seems like forever! I’m sure whatever you have planned is going to be lovely and will be designed to excite and titillate your other clients, but I hope you’ll agree that separating us now would be a waste of time and likely stall the momentum that we’ve already created.
Tatum couldn’t help but sneak a look to see how he was handling the ‘conversation’ between the two women. His expression wasn’t exactly open, but that wasn’t something that bothered her. She’d probably used a similar expression herself when she was scoping out the lay of the land at a competition. You didn’t wear your heart on your sleeve and not expect people to descend on you like lions on lambs.
While he wasn’t ignoring the not-so-subtle battle of wills, he didn’t seem to be that eager to jump in the middle.
And maybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she might have seen the littlest lift at the corner of his mouth. He might just have a bit of a wicked sense of humor.
Nice.
Very nice.
She sighed silently and stopped short when his gaze shifted over to her.
She tried to school her expression before he saw her open curiosity, but when he gave her a little nod, she knew she’d been too slow.
Her cheeks warmed as he continued to look at her for a long moment, but as soon as he turned back to Martina and his match, she wanted to find some reason to excuse herself, but she had a feeling Martina would strangle her later for abandoning her.
"Right now," Martina was still explaining, "the other ladies are seated in the dining room at their private and very romantic tables. As soon as you sit down, we can start to bring in the men and make the introductions. I know it’s not the most private situation, but we really do know what we’re doing and there’s a process to the events."
Tatum could tell that they were reaching an impasse and she felt for Martina. She worked so hard to make the whole cruise as beautiful and romantic as possible.
"So, you’re saying that I have to go in there and sit alone at our table until you bring him over to me? Am I supposed to pretend I don’t already know him? Or that I don’t already know he’s the one you matched me with?"
Martina nodded, tilting her chin down barely an inch. "Just for a few minutes, really. It wouldn’t be fair to the other ladies if they see the two of you already together. It really does short-change the whole process of making this match."
Tatum knew what Martina was saying and she was right. Her experience was invaluable.
"Please, Blair," Martina touched her hand over her heart, "it would be really helpful."
"Helpful."
There was no mistaking the tone of voice of a woman who wasn’t used to doing something contrary to her own interests, and Tatum was wondering if she’d read the man correctly. If she was really his match, she couldn’t help but question what kind of man he really was.
"Well," she let go of his arm and reached into a pocket in her LBD that Tatum hadn’t even noticed before, "I have an alternative solution that should make us both happy."
Oh wow, Tatum struggled to control her expression, this should be interesting, because she doubted that Martina would be happy with any other solution than following the set schedule.
Holding her phone aloft, Blair’s grin was like a klieg light outside a movie premiere. "It’ll just take me one moment." And to emphasize her point, she held up her pointer finger in the air before she turned to the gentleman she’d walked up with. "Don’t go anywhere."
Striding away on her Louboutins, she obviously had a miracle worker on speed dial as she began to speak almost immediately.
To his credit the man standing before them had a contrite look on his face. "I’m sorry."
Martina was a champ, a total professional. "I’m sure we’ll work it out, Alexander. There really is a reason that we do things the way we do."
"I don’t doubt it, but you should know, Blair had someone hack your computer systems to find out her match ahead of time."
It took Martina a moment to respond. "That was… resourceful."
His laugh was just as gorgeous as he was, warm and real enough to send a little shiver over her skin as if he’d actually touched her. "I have a feeling you don’t let much knock you off your game."
Tatum nodded. "Martina could tame wild animals if given half a chance."
"I have a feeling that Blair might be too wild, even for you, Martina."
"This is only the first night, Alex."
He heard her words, and he’d likely heard the determination in her voice like Tatum had. "I think if anyone has a chance, it would be you."
Martina was back in the fight again, ready to meet this challenge head on. Tatum could see the way her friend straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. "I’m going to give it my best try."
Almost on cue, Blair returned with a triumphant smile on her perfect face. "I’ve just spoken to the chef-"
"The chef?" Martina’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
"He’s agreed to let us sit at the chef’s table in the kitchen. That way we don’t have to disrupt the
introductions for the others and we can continue exploring our connection. I think it’s a solution that’s best for everyone."
Tatum understood the slight hesitation on Martina’s part. Giving in now might mean that Blair could cause another disruption later, but a quick look at the watch on her wrist told Tatum that they were already late to start the official introductions.
She didn’t envy her friend the necessity to make a decision that she’d quite possibly regret.
"I’m agreeing to this, Blair, with the understanding that you did sign an agreement to abide by our rules. I can see that connecting with Alexander has really been a shock and I can understand how that might be distracting, but tomorrow-"
Blair waved off her concerns with a perfectly manicured hand. "Yes, I agree. Tomorrow is another day, and we’ll start over, okay?"
She didn’t really wait for Martina to answer the question. A busboy who looked like he’d run flat out from the kitchen to the front door of the dining room showed up to escort them back into the kitchen for dinner.
When they were gone, Martina blew out a loud exhale. "I knew she was a handful, but that was just wild!"
Tatum agreed. "I’m sorry that happened."
"Well," Martina sighed, "he said he wanted a woman who knew what she wanted. I just didn’t know how resourceful she would prove to be. Now, I need to go inside and make sure all the ladies are in their assigned seats. Would you text me and remind me-"
"To call your website hosts and beef up your security?" Tatum felt so bad for her friend.
"Yes, please!"
A lexander was really trying to enjoy dinner. The food was impeccable. The shrimp and octopus cassoulet was something he was going to remember for a long time. Looking down at the braised pork belly and langoustine he had a feeling he was going to be enjoying it alone.
Blair had already stepped away from the table twice to answer her phone and if she stayed away much longer, even a heating lamp isn’t going to be enough to save her plate from the trash. A sous chef walked up and leaned closer with a bit of a smile. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
Sitting back in his seat, Alex gave him a shake of his head. "No, really, I’m fine. I’m sorry that we put you through all of this trouble."
The man didn’t hesitate to shrug off the apology and offer a query of his own. "Is Miss Sexton unhappy with anything at all? We’re happy to fix anything she found disagreeable."
"No, no, nothing like that," Alexander tried to reassure him as best as he could, "she hasn’t really tasted much of it. There’s a business issue she had to fix."
"Oh," the sous chef was relieved to say the least, "I am sorry to hear about that. Would you like us to hold off on the last course?"
Looking down at his plate, Alexander set his fork down and shrugged. "If that won’t cause you any issues. I don’t know when she’s going to be back."
The sous chef looked over at the chef who gave him a nod, barely holding in his frustration.
"All right, sir. Dessert will take about five minutes to prepare, so just let us know when you’re ready."
"Thank you." Alex watched the man turn to walk away and let out a sigh. Lifting his fork from the plate, he used the tines to nudge the piece of langoustine that he’d just cut from the whole. He wasn’t much in the mood anymore to eat, but it would have been an insult to the staff that had bent over backwards trying to accommodate Blair’s ‘affirmative request.’ At least that’s what she’d told him when he’d asked her why she’d been so set on breaking the rules.
"It’s not about breaking the rules," she’d given him a look that was equal parts shock and incredulity, "it’s about knowing what I want and getting it."
The kitchen door swung open, and Alexander turned to look. While it was a door in the opposite direction that Blair had gone, he was hoping to get to finish their dinner.
And there she was.
No, not Blair.
The woman he’d seen stepping off the elevator and then again at the door to the restaurant.
She was flushed and smiling as if she’d just had a reason for laughing and hadn’t yet lost the rush of the feeling.
The chef waved her over and leaned closer until his pristine coat was reflected into the polished surface. "Miss Hansen, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten your promise!"
Her wide-eyed shock spoke volumes. "Never, Graham. And even if I was brainwashed by a Bond villain, I would always remember you." She laid her palms flat on the counter and shook her head in a solemn gesture. "You, and your passion fruit crème br?lée. One taste of that would bring me back from near death."
Shaking his head, the chef’s amused chuckle was vastly different from his earlier professional demeanor when he had greeted Blair at the kitchen door. "Well then, while I can say that you look too lovely to be at death’s door, we can all use a little revival from time to time." Turning around, he picked up a plate from a counter and then reached into a basket for a fork.
When he held both out to her it was with all the pomp and circumstance of a royal presentation. "Your refresher, my lady."
Her reply was a quick and inelegant snort, leaving both of them laughing at the sound.
A quick look about the brilliantly lit kitchen, she turned and leaned her hip on the counter. Alex couldn’t blame her. The only chairs were at the chef’s table and while Blair’s seat was empty, her food was on the table.
And while she was presumably coming back to finish, Alexander couldn’t help but offer. "Miss? If you’d like to have a seat…" He stood and managed to grasp his napkin before it fell to the ground,
"you can have my chair."
She lifted her chin to look over at the table. "That’s a table set for two," she crossed one ankle over the other
as she settled in against the counter, "and you’re supposed to be getting to know your match… Mister Wen, I believe?"
How unfortunate in a way that she remembered him from earlier. If this had been a first meeting it might have started off in a completely different direction.
Nodding, he smiled at her, but he doubted that she was even aware of the gesture as she was busy cutting a tiny little slice into the crisp pastry edge of the dessert on her plate. The amount of concentration evident in her features was akin to that of a surgeon or one of those people in the movies who disarm bombs. She gave the action infinite care.
It wasn’t until she brought her fork up to her lips, with a sliver of custard quivering between the hard shell of sugar and the pastry crust, that she appeared to remember that he was still standing there.
"You don’t," she seemed to struggle to find the words, "you don’t have to wait for me to sit, I’m hiding in here until every delectable bite of this is gone."
"I guess I don’t have to wait," he explained, "but I’m finding the whole production of dessert to be most interesting."
"Production?" She must have seen something in his expression that said he was joking, because the concentrated look on her features eased into a soft smile. "Well, don’t expect me to sing and dance with it. I can dance, but I have zero ability to hold a tune even if I used both hands and one of those huge IKEA shopping bags."
Lifting her fork again, she sliced off another sliver and as she lifted it to her mouth, she watched him over the fork. When her lips closed over the fork he had to swallow, hoping to force the lump in his throat to clear.
The expression on her face was transcendent and as she swallowed it down, she gave a little shiver.
A cough turned his attention to the chef who gestured in her direction. "Now you can see why I make her anything she wants. We live to cook, but when someone enjoys the fruits of your labor like that? It makes me feel like I was just awarded another Michelin star."
She rolled her eyes and gave the chef a pointed look. "I’m so lucky you let me in here at all. It’s not every day I get to enjoy the cuisine of a chef of your caliber."
The chef waved her off. "It’s a pleasure, as always."
Someone called out from one of the stations and the chef left to deal with the emergency.
Alex found himself staring at the woman, warring with the need within. The empty seat across from him was a reminder that he was literally there as a match for someone else, but there was
something-
"I see you."
His eyes refocused and saw her warm brown eyes focused on him. "I- I’m sorry?"
"No need to be sorry." Her smile deepened and he saw the hint of a dimple in her cheek. "I agree with you."
He felt a furrow form between his brows.
Lifting her fork, she pointed at the dessert. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it?"
Oh. She thought he was staring at her plate.
"And you’re probably thinking that I’m selfish. And you’re right." She gently tucked the plate against her body and heaven help him, his eyes followed the movement to the swell of her breasts. "But seeing as you’re one of Martina’s clients, I’ll try to be a little more magnanimous."
She walked from the counter to the table with a few elegant strides and set the plate beside his glass of wine. Lifting her fork she cut out a regular bite-sized piece and slipped her fork under it. Shifting slightly, she adjusted her skirt and crouched down beside the table. The subtle gesture had revealed a modest slit along her thigh and that had allowed her to get down to where she was eye to eye with him.
Lifting the fork she held it before him. "Go on," she grinned, "take a bite. You’ll thank me for it later."
It had been more than twenty years since the last time someone had tried to feed him something and the gorgeous woman facing him looked nothing like his grandmother.
There was a moment of indecision, stemming mostly from the oddly intimate nature of the moment, but then there was only curiosity and a strange need to take a taste of this new sensation welling up inside of him.
They leaned toward each other and he had to force himself to focus on the fork rather than her chocolate brown eyes before he ended up with custard on his suit.
And what he ended up with was egg on his face.
He managed to swallow before he spoke. "That is incredible!"
She stood and gave him a haughty wink as she lifted her plate. "I told you."
"You told him what?"
Alexander stood and found himself feeling as if he was standing between the two women even though there was a table between himself and Blair.
"We were talking about the dessert."
"Dessert?" Blair looked down at the table and then back up. "We haven’t had dessert yet."
Lifting the plate in her hand, she gave a little shrug. "I snuck a bite ahead of time." She looked at him and then back at Blair. "Enjoy, you two." With that, she left the kitchen.
Alexander walked around the table and took hold of the back of Blair’s seat. "Did you get everything worked out?"
Blair remained silent until he was back in his chair. "How did you end up with Tatum Hansen?"
"Tatum… who?"
Sitting back in her chair, Blair folded her arms and gave him a pointed look. "The woman you were just talking to. That’s Tatum Hansen."
When he didn’t respond to her announcement, she continued.
"She was the U.S. Professional Latin Champion three years in a row and won silver at the World Professional Latin Championships."
He still drew a blank.
Blair leaned her forearms against the edge of the table. "A ballroom dancing champion. Are you saying you didn’t know?"
Alexander shrugged. "We talked about dessert."
The look on Blair’s face was somewhere between abject shock and a kind of outrage. "Dessert? Really?" Before he could answer, she asked him another question. "You mean to tell me you didn’t know we’re going to be in her class tomorrow?"
"What class?"
"Social Dance! I signed us up."
"You signed us up for a dance class, when?"
Blair shrugged. "While my guy was in their computers, I signed us up for classes."
He wanted to ask her how he was supposed to know that, but he’d seen that expression on her face before, and he didn’t want to argue.
Reaching for his fork, he managed to pick up a piece of the pork belly, finding himself suddenly starving. Or perhaps it was a need to find something to busy himself with so he didn’t need to talk.
Blair stood, the legs of her chair scraping across the concrete floor.
Alexander stood, years and years of good manners making the gesture second nature.
"I’m not hungry anymore," she told him. "Would you walk me to my suite?"
His answer was also second nature. "I would be happy to," were the words that came out of his mouth, even though it was one of the last things he wanted.
As they began to walk, the Chef called out to him. "Would you like us to keep your plate warm?"
"We," Blair was the one who answered, "are done for the night."
Alexander was almost too happy to hear the words, but probably not for the reason that Blair had intended.