Chapter Nine #2
“Did you lock the door?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
I laughed lightly. “Of course I’m sure.”
A trace of indecision crossed over his face. “I’ll just go and double check. Be back in ten seconds.”
Amused, I watched him as he rushed up the stairs, easily climbing two steps at a time. He checked the door, then smiled down at me as he descended the stairs.
“I told you I locked it,” I said.
“It never hurts to make sure. Now we can enjoy the evening.”
I nearly gaped at the black town car waiting at the curb. The driver opened the door for us. I was Cinderella being whisked to the ball by my very own Prince Charming. I hadn’t believed in fairy tales in a long time, and here I was living one. Cam was truly trying to impress me.
“Good evening, Mr. Jones.” The driver opened the door for me.
“Ray, nice to see you again.” Cam smiled at the driver. “I didn’t know you were still driving for Deluxe.”
“I only work special shifts. Saw your name on the roster and took the ride. Where to, sir?”
“Nick’s Steakhouse, and please, call me Cam.”
I slid into the spacious back seat as gracefully as I could. Cam sat next to me, his thigh touching mine slightly.
I arranged my coat over my knees. “I thought you were new to the city. I’m surprised to see you’re on a first name basis with the driver.”
He turned to me. “While I was at MIT, I used to come to New York now and then, to spend time with Craig and Carley. Ray would usually meet my flight or my train.”
“It’s nice of you to remember his name. Most people don’t pay attention to those who attend them, like drivers, security guards, janitors, that kind of thing.”
“Everyone should. Without them, the world as we know it wouldn’t exist. I think every profession is honorable and useful.”
I smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. I like this side of you.”
He mock-posed in profile. “I was told that’s my good side. My nose is slightly crooked from a… disagreement I had back at MIT. Actually, that’s how I met Sebastian.”
My eyes went wide. “You met by getting into a fight? What happened?”
He gave me a smile as charming as it was mischievous. “Well, we never agreed on that. If you ask Sebastian, he’ll say I hit on his girlfriend.”
My eyes moved over his handsome features, along his athletic body and cocky stance.
“That doesn’t sound too far-fetched. What’s your version of the story?”
“She wasn’t his girlfriend, and she was the one who hit on me.
I was sitting at the bar, watching the game, minding my own business.
Next to me was this girl, whom I later learned was on a date with Sebastian.
She kept glancing my way, but since I saw she was with another dude, I ignored her.
Sebastian got up to go to the john, and next thing I know, her hand is on my thigh and she’s giving me some corny line.
I was doing my best to shake her off when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I barely turned around, and Sebastian sucker-punched me in the nose. ”
I burst out laughing, seeing the scene in front of me as though it was a movie.
“Oh, my God! And then what happened?”
“I picked myself off the floor and charged. I heard later that it took five men to break us up.”
“So how come you ended up friends?”
“We’re guys,” he said simply, as though that explained everything. “After we cooled off and the chick was gone, we sat down, had a beer, and realized she wasn’t worth the fight—literally. We sort of bonded, and here we are, over a decade later.”
I shook my head, grinning. “Sometimes the best of friendships start in the most unusual of ways.”
The ride to the restaurant wasn’t a long one.
It wasn’t dark out yet, so we chatted about the various things we saw outside.
There was always something to see and do on the streets of New York.
At one intersection, Ray put down the window so that we could enjoy the saxophonist performing for the crowd.
He was very good, and I was almost sorry when the car started moving again, the notes fading as we picked up speed.
After the town car pulled up to the curb in front of Nick’s, Ray got out and opened the door for us. Cam offered me his hand to get out of the car.
“Thank you.” Despite my best efforts, I knew that in my not-so-dainty fashion I’d flashed a lot of thigh in the process.
Cam didn’t seem to mind at all. On the contrary, he took a quick but appreciative look at my legs.
“Ray, I’ll call when we’re ready to leave, probably in a few hours.” Cam handed the man a couple of bills discretely. “Go and grab some dinner.”
“Thank you, sir, Mr. Cam,” the driver responded, making the bills disappear with practiced elegance.
I had to bite my lip to keep from dissolving into giggles.
“It’s better than Mr. Came or Mr. Cameroon,” Cam whispered in my ear.
Taking my arm, he escorted me up the two steps to the restaurant’s glass doors. Inside, he helped me remove my coat and put it over his arm.
“Good evening. Welcome to Nick’s.” The hostess smiled at Cam and ignored me.
She wore a black dress tight enough to mess with her ability to breathe, and heels that had to be twice as high as mine. Her gaze was fixed on Cam with the single-mindedness of a starving panther.
He didn’t appear to notice. Instead, he laced his fingers with mine and approached her. “Reservation for Cam Jones.” He smiled, yanking her out of her temporary trance.
“Of course, Mr. Jones.” She ticked his name off the list. “Your table is ready. If you’ll follow me.”
She picked up two menus and led us to a semi-secluded table in the back.
I watched her wiggle her way ahead of us, wishing I could swish my ass like she did.
When we got to the table, she pulled out my chair.
I sat, and she handed me a menu, before opening my napkin and placing it on my lap.
As she turned to Cam, he handed her my coat, sat and reached for his napkin before she could offer him lap service. He held out his hand for the menu.
“Thank you.” The smirk on his face told me he’d done this before to avoid a pat on the balls.
She nodded. “You’re welcome. Your server will be Emilio. He should be here shortly to take your drink orders.” With that, she sashayed back to the coat check, attracting quite an audience as she passed by each table.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to do the same. I could barely walk in my own shoes without wobbling like a drunk flamingo.
I looked around the room, with its pristine, cloth-covered tables set far enough apart to offer its patrons privacy.
Each table held a flowered hurricane lamp with a candle inside, set off to one side so as not to impede the diners’ ability to see one another.
I’d never been here, but this place screamed expensive.
Unlike most restaurants these days where casual and “anything goes” dress code was the norm, these people were dressed up for the occasion.
I glanced down at my dress, then at the other women in the room—polished, tailored, timeless. Tonight, for once, I didn’t feel like the awkward extra in someone else’s movie. I looked like I belonged here. With him.
“If your plan was to impress me, you’ve wildly overshot the mark,” I murmured, reaching for my water.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I figured if I fed you in style, you’d go easier on my software critiques.”
“Oh, I’m very bribable with food as currency.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve only been here a handful of times—special occasions, mostly. Tonight felt like it qualified.”
I tilted my head. “Special occasion because I’m here, or because you’re trying to repair your reputation after porno night?”
His smile turned crooked. “Little bit of both. But mostly because… well, you intrigue me, Susanne Morelli. And that doesn’t happen very often.”