Chapter 10 #2
As we follow leisurely behind her, Callum puts his lips to my ear.
“Maeve Collins,” he says, the sensual rumble of his voice sending my nerves into overdrive, “was that jealousy I heard? That might’ve been the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”
My breath hitches audibly, but I retort, “In your dreams, lover boy.”
He chuckles softly, and I try to put some distance between us, but he places a firm, possessive hand on my waist.
“If you only knew all the ways I’ve imagined you being the center of attention.
” His voice was a silken purr in my ear, heavy with suggestion.
I concentrate on my steps and on dodging tables and dinner patrons as heat rushes to my core, making me squirm under his touch.
He matches my every step as we stride through the dimly lit hallways, gripping me tightly.
I can’t help but notice a few familiar faces among the crowd. Interesting.
When we reach a secluded suite, Sydney places our menus on the table and scurries off with a softly muttered “Enjoy.”
As I reach up to remove my black fur stole, Callum steps behind me and reaches around to undo the clasp at my chest. I grab his hand to stop him, deciding that I’m not quite ready for him to see my back. It’s too much, too soon.
I turn to face him. “I’m still a little cold. I think I’ll keep this on.”
“Of course,” he says, pulling my chair out for me and making a sweeping gesture with his hand.
But before I can sit, he steps closer to me, so close I have to look up.
His blue eyes are burning into mine, searching intently.
He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, then brings his fingers to rest under my chin, raising it gently.
After a few moments, he releases me. “Sit,” he says softly.
I obey, and he pushes my chair in gently as I do. I hear him take a deep breath behind me before pulling out his own chair and sitting down.
The private dining suite is dimly lit, but has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a pond, its water smooth and calm, reflecting the full moon so that there are two tonight instead of just one.
I sit with my hands on my lap, looking out across the scene.
It looks like a painting. Maybe I’ll paint this when I get home, I think absently.
A server enters the suite carrying a frosty pitcher of water, breaking me from my thoughts. He rattles off the specials as he fills our glasses, delicious-sounding seafood dishes and savory steaks, then asks if we’d like drinks.
Callum thanks him and says, “I will have a glass of Pappy Vanwinkle, neat, and she will have…” he trails off, looking at me to respond.
“I’ll have a lemon drop martini with sugar on the rim, please.”
The waiter nods and gives a slight bow before he exits the suite, and Callum looks at me with a raised brow.
“What? You don’t get to judge me, Mr. I-order-the-most-pretentious-whiskey-known-to-man. At least my drink order is down-to-earth.”
He raises both eyebrows in response, an amused smirk spreading across his face. He leans back casually, a bent arm draped over the back of his chair. I fight a smile as he just stares at me, and the look in his eyes—amusement, and something else, something primal—makes heat rush to my core again.
Just then, the waiter enters the suite with our drinks, breaking the tension, and Callum orders for both of us.
“Tell the chef to make us something, whatever he enjoys, but to be sure there are no mushrooms, please.”
“Yes, sir, I will let him know of your request,” the waiter says deferentially, and exits the suite discreetly, leaving us alone again.
“You know, taking a picture will last longer,” I bite out, a hand gripping my drink. Callum is still staring intently at me, and I feel my heart racing.
He smirks and tosses back his whiskey.
“As I recall, you always liked it when I stare at you,” he says smoothly, unbothered by my rancor.
“Well, that was nine years ago. Common sense should tell you that things are different now.”
He chuckles softly. “Indeed. I guess I’m just trying to, you know, figure you out. You’re so different.”
I feel my hackles raise immediately, getting defensive. Part of me did love the way Callum is staring, like all of his focus is centered on me. It’s heady and intense. But I’m not some lovestruck teenager anymore.
“Yeah, well, I’m not the girl you once knew. Just because you remembered that I hate mushrooms doesn’t mean anything. You don’t know me anymore.”
I cross my arms and huff out a breath, looking back out of the window. He raises his face to look at the ceiling again, exasperated. I notice some patrons walking around the pond with all too familiar walks, stiff-backed and militant.
“Maeve,” he says softly, “I know I don’t know you like I once did.” He sighs and rubs the scruff on his jaw. “But I want to. I want to know all of you. Look, neither of us is the same person we once were. But we’re in each other's lives now, and I want to make this work.”
I look over at him, surprised at the tender tone in his voice. He’s looking down into what's left of his drink.
“There’s so much I want to tell you when the time is right, but for now, I just want to know more about what I’ve missed out on.”
I stare into his eyes, searching, seeing nothing but genuine truth in him. I haven’t forgotten my mission tonight: find out what the hell is going on between our families. But for now, I’ll indulge him.
And so, we begin to play twenty questions.