Chapter 16
Adam is carrying out to-go boxes to a table near the bar when they emerge from the corridor. Wade gives him a slight nod as they turn for the wine room. A moment after they’ve seated, Adam carries in a tray with what Camille hopes is their last sample from Chef Phillipe.
Her stomach can’t handle much more. The walk upstairs might have helped with her digestion, but the way her stomach flutters as she glances at Wade, the feeling of his lips on hers, more food is the last thing she needs.
A circular plate is laid out in front of each of them with identical chocolate spheres propped precociously on top of a pyramid-shaped brownie. The gravity-defying display has Camille tilting her head to the side, trying to figure out how it was achieved. Camille notices Phillipe standing against the wall as if a decoration, eyeing Adam as he takes a white towel from his back pocket, using it to grab the handle of a dainty copper pot.
“Start directly over the middle,” Phillipe hisses from the wall.
Adam turns to the table, an exasperated smirk on his face. Camille sits back as Adam starts with her dessert first. He holds the pot out a foot over her plate. A foot too high, if you ask her. He tips the pot to the side, and a white cream pours out in a gentle waterfall. She inhales, smelling the warm, white chocolate. She’s fully expecting the sphere to roll down the side of the pyramid as soon as the liquid touches it, but when it hits the top of the chocolate sphere, it melts. Wade and Camille watch entranced as the liquid causes the sphere to dissolve, white and brown chocolate cascading down the sides of the pyramid. There’s something powdery on the inside of the sphere, dissolving along with the rest of the sphere.
She picks up her dessert spoon, anxious to dig in, but Wade’s plate is next. Phillipe moves to the side to watch Adam pour the liquid over his sphere, looking just as excited as Camille. From this angle, she can see the puff of powder as the top of the sphere caves in, the chocolate melting over the pyramid.
“I’ll be back with refills,” Adam notes, seeing their empty glasses.
Camille isn’t listening. She’s forgotten about her full stomach and the feelings from the roof as she dips her spoon into the melted chocolate flowing down the side. She’s intentional, keeping her bites on the smaller side. She’s on her second bite by the time Wade takes his first.
“Wow,” he nods slowly as he chews into the chocolaty deliciousness. “Just wow.” He looks over at Phillipe, who’s smiling proudly. Wade points his spoon at his plate. “What are you calling this?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” Phillipe walks over, a spoon materializing in his hand. “We’re thinking, ‘Pyramid of Desire.’”
Wade takes a second bite, pushing his plate a few inches closer to Phillipe, knowing exactly what the chef wants.
“What do you think?” Phillipe asks in Camille’s direction, cutting into the back of Wade’s pyramid. He takes a bite, glancing at her as she tries to come up with the words. “Too much white chocolate,” he says to himself, running his tongue around his teeth, “needs more cinnamon.”
“Don’t,” she sputters as she swallows her bite. The cinnamon must have been the powder inside the sphere; she can taste a hint of it mixed in with the warm richness of the chocolate-covered brownie. “Please don’t change a thing.”
Phillipe grins, looking between them. “Pyramid of Desire isn’t too much?”
When Phillipe’s looking in her direction, Wade winks at her. She grins up at Phillipe.
“Not at all.”
Wade sets his spoon down, throwing in the towel. “Thank you for a fantastic meal. I couldn’t have asked for a better end to the day, and—” he pushes his chair back to stand, “I have some new ideas about the second floor.”
“Run them by me some other time. It’s a madhouse out there,” Phillipe replies, tossing his spoon on the side of Wade’s plate.
“Sounds good.”
They give each other a one-armed hug, patting the other’s back. Phillipe nearly runs into Adam, who bursts through with a small tray of refills. Camille is just about to stand when she sees the drinks.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” Adam asks.
Wade’s eyes go from his new drink to Camille.
“I’m good.”
“Me too,” she agrees, not daring to look Wade in the eye for longer than a heartbeat. She gazes up at Adam. “Thank you for taking care of us.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
“Thanks,” Wade repeats, stepping toward Adam, holding out a folded hundred-dollar bill.
“Come back anytime,” he grins, accepting the tip. When he takes it, Camille sees the bill is actually more than a one-hundred-dollar bill. Adam looks between them. “To-go drinks, anyone?”
Both of them shake their heads.
“Very well.” He ducks out of the room.
Walking out, it’s later than she realized. The restaurant is buzzing again, with a fresh round of occupants filling the tables. Pulling on her blazer as she heads out of the wine room, she feels tipsier than before, the last margarita doing its job. Thankfully, she’s steady-footed enough that she isn’t self-conscious about walking out of the room ahead of Wade, worried she might stumble over her own feet.
The hostess is chatting with one of the servers at the front of the restaurant. She sees them walking across the restaurant and hurries to the elevators. She’s already pressed the button calling the elevator by the time they get to her.
“Have a good evening,” she smiles.
“You too,” she says, allowing Wade to walk up beside her.
She loops her arm around his with his hands in his front pockets. He feels so warm. He gives the hostess a nod as they step into the elevator. Camille leans in ever so slightly as the doors shut, leaving her staring at their reflection in the metal elevator doors standing arm in arm. Wade glances down at her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she hums, turning her head to look up at him.
His eyes are hard, worried perhaps. Maybe he’s thinking she regrets their kiss.
She smiles sweetly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better…date.”
Is she overstepping by calling it that? Worry creeps in as the thought settles over her that maybe it’s him who’s regretting their kiss.
“It’s the best date I’ve had in a long time,” he murmurs in a low voice, dropping his head closer to hers.
Without a thought, her feet lift her up on her toes. Her mouth finds his.
The elevator dings, the door sliding open, but neither of them notices. As the door shuts, someone stops it, and a man clears his throat. Wade and Camille separate to see Benny holding the door open. He looks at Wade as Camille raises her hand to cover her red cheeks.
“Ready for your car, sir?”
“We are,” Wade replies, stepping to catch the door as the man turns from the elevator. Wade glances back at her.
“Should we be embarrassed?” she whispers, lowering her hand from her cheek.
Wade narrows his eyes as she walks past him. “I’m sure he’s seen worse.”
Benny’s already disappeared out the door leading to the garage. He’s still looking at her as he lets go of the door as if daring her to kiss him again; she takes a deep breath, wondering which door they’re supposed to exit. He isn’t shy, walking straight up to her and wrapping his hands around her, cupping the small of her back. She gazes up at him, expecting him to kiss her, but he keeps his head tall, staring down at her, his eyes lost in hers.
“My place isn’t far from here…” he begins, “if you’re too tired, I can give the flight crew the night off while we sleep at my place. We can fly back first thing in the morning.”
She pulls the side of her mouth back, giving him the same one-sided grin he’s so often giving her. “Is the bed comfortable in your guest room?”
His smile matches hers. “It’s a bit smaller than the bed in the master, but I haven’t heard any complaints.”
She bites her tongue, wanting to ask him how many people he’s had over to his place. She pushes her petty jealousy away. She’s the one in his arms, no one else.
The door to the garage opens. The homeless man leans out. “Your car is waiting.”
“Thanks, Benny,” Wade calls, letting go of Camille’s waist.
He holds the door open to the garage as Wade takes Camille by the hand, walking her out the door. Her hand in his feels surprisingly intimate. Waving the chauffeur off, Wade opens the back door of the car for her, and she slides across the backseat. Their driver buckles his seatbelt as Wade shuts the door.
“Where to, sir?”
Wade takes his phone out of his pocket, turning to Camille. “It’s your call.”
He leans in, inches from her face. She can smell him, a mix of the wonderful smells from the restaurant and that masculine smell that she can’t quite put her finger on. Is it cologne, or is it him?
“I text the pilot,” he says in a low rasp, “or—”
The driver watches them through the rearview mirror, waiting for a response.
“To his house,” she declares, sounding far more confident than she’s feeling.
What was she doing? This wasn’t her. She doesn’t go to a man’s house after one date, especially not after one that wasn’t an actual date as it was a business dinner. She turns her gaze to the handsome man sitting closer to her. Every concern in her head fades as she sees the heat in her eyes mirrored back in his.
“Where is your house exactly?”
Their driver knows precisely where they’re going and pulls out of the garage before Wade can respond. She forces herself to turn away from the desire in his eyes, not wanting to lose herself in them yet. Wade takes the hint and straightens in his seat. The car pulls out from the alleyway onto the main road.
“That’s McKinley Park,” he states as she stares out her window at the trees lining the side of the road.
She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her nose as she admires the glimpses of the park between the trees. “That’s a pretty name,” she mumbles. In his reflection in the window, Camille can see him looking her face over.
“It’s a nice park,” he says gently, “I can take you next time we’re in Sacramento.”
She smirks, turning her head slowly to look over her shoulder at him.
“What?” he asks after a second. “You want to go now?”
Camille shakes her head, glancing back at him as she leans into him, closing the distance between them. “I’m good,” she sighs. He lifts his arm, propping it behind her headrest for her to lean into his chest.
The ride to his place is short. Expecting traffic to be more like Los Angeles, Camille is just getting comfortable against Wade’s chest when they pull off the main road and straight into a garage.
“This is us,” Wade announces, stretching as Camille sits up.
“That was quick,” she replies, looking around at the empty walls of the garage.
Wade opens his door and the driver hurrying around to get hers.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Wade says, climbing out of the backseat.
She takes the driver’s hand, finding that she’s no longer feeling as tipsy as she had at the restaurant. The garage smells like new construction.
“Have a nice night,” the driver tells her.
“Thanks, you too,” Camille says, Wade, echoing his thanks as she joins him at the door to the house.
He opens the door, clicking lights on inside.
“I wanted something close to the restaurant so I can oversee the renovation on my weekends off. Now that the restaurant is open, I’m using the construction on the second floor as my excuse to keep the place.”
Camille plasters on a grin, thinking how nice it is to buy a house simply because it’s close in proximity to your latest million-dollar project. The door opens to a mudroom leading into the house. The living room past the mudroom is smaller than expected, but the overall feel is the same as the guesthouse loft in L.A. Dark-colored rugs and furniture fill the small space with brighter, neutral-colored walls. The open door past the living room, where a kitchen or dining room should be, is a home gym. Free weights are lined up against the wall facing the door.
She’s about to walk past the stairs when Wade waves his hand for her to go up them.
“It doesn’t have the kind of view that my mom’s place has, but…it’s more me,” he smiles, directing her to the stairs.
She’s halfway up the stairs when a thought passes over her. Wade is close behind her, looking her over. She cringes with every step, knowing that her butt is quite literally feet from his face. She tries to remember exactly how her backside looked in these pants in the mirror at the boutique.
Just like the second floor of the guesthouse, the entire wall opposite the stairs is glass. She rolls her eyes, moving from the stairs out into the living room.
“I thought you said there wasn’t a view.”
Looking around, she can tell that this is where Wade Bloom spends his time. The low lighting reveals a more appropriately sized kitchen counter. Papers are scattered on it with a yellow notepad sitting on top, a pen on it as if Wade just set it down. The warm-colored furniture gives the same vibes as downstairs. Another overall masculine feel for those wanting to see the upstairs view of Sacramento.
“I said, the kind of view,” he whispers near her ear.
Wade walks over to the coffee table in front of the dark leather couch. He leans down to scoop up the remote sitting on top of the coffee table, clicking a button that causes the shades to rise.
The surrounding Sacramento lights feel overbearing compared to Leah’s romantic aerial view of a bustling city. The buildings are too close, but the balcony beyond the glass has a treetop view of McKinley Park.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Wade asks, pushing open the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony.
“I’m good,” she says, walking through the balcony door.
Her back to him at the door, she raises her hand up to her mouth, ducking her head a little to check her breath. A cool breeze sweeps over her, but it’s not strong enough for her to ignore the fact that she needs a mint. Hearing Wade walking up behind her, she shoves her hands in the pockets of her blazer tightening, it around her. He places his hands on the top of Camille’s shoulders.
“There must be a cold front coming in,” he mutters, rubbing his hands down the back of her arm. “You want to go inside?”
She is tired, but that’s not why she wants to go inside. “I would love to brush my teeth.”
Wade’s hands drop from her arms.
“I think I can dig up a spare toothbrush.”
He turns for the living room. She follows him inside, watching him shut and lock the sliding door.
“It’s a three-bedroom, but there’s only furniture in two of the upstairs bedrooms, so you do have the option to sleep in your own room.”
She walks down the hallway past the kitchen, keeping her face calm and collected, trying to decide how maidenly she should play this. They get to the master bathroom through the bedroom at the end of the hall. Wade goes straight to a drawer, pulling out a brand-new, red toothbrush. Next to the spacious sink is a see-through, three-headed shower. Around the shower is a large basin tub with an antique-style faucet.
“I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet,” he says, seeing her admiring the bathtub.
“I would volunteer, but I don’t have a spare change of clothes,” she croons, and it dawns on her that if she stays here tonight, she’ll have to do the walk of shame when they get back to L.A.
He takes out his toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, turning to her. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”
Camille gives him a skeptical look. She wants to ask him why she has extra clothes to offer her. She also wants to kiss him. Instead, she turns to face the sink. She brushes her teeth quickly, feeling a growing sense of unease having him right there, brushing his teeth with her. If she doesn’t kiss him soon, she’ll chicken out. He leans over to spit as soon as he sees her finishing.
“I’ll give you a minute,” he utters, throwing his toothbrush in the top drawer.
He spins around before she can say otherwise, leaving her alone in the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Camille looks around. She was going to kiss him but…
Was that his way of telling her that she needed to fix herself up?
She checks herself in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair. What was she even doing? She looks fine. Her gaze drifts across the spacious master bath. The bathroom alone probably costs more than the home where she grew up. She immediately chastises herself for thinking about her parents and walks over to the toilet. The outer rim has lights built-in and a bidet.
Maybe the toilet is worth more than her parent’s first home.
Why was she doing this to herself? Reminding herself of his wealth only makes her feel less worthy of being here with him. And his looks… God, what was he doing with her?
“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” she chants, finishing quickly and hurrying to the sink.
She washes her hands, leaving her toothbrush on the edge of the sink. One last look in the bathroom mirror. This is as good as it’s going to get. She plasters on a smile, walking out of the bathroom.
Wade appears to be having trouble figuring out what to do with himself, looking around at the foot of the bed where he’s standing. The comforter in front of him is wrinkled where it was previously untouched. It appears that he has been sitting or quite possibly laying on the bed before she walked out.
He runs a hand over the front of his polo. Hearing her walk in, he spins around. His face mirrors the same nervous anxiety that’s coursing through her.
“We don’t have to—” that’s all he gets out.
Seeing him and his handsome, charming face, she strides up to him as soon as he opens his mouth, throwing her arms around his neck. If she’s going to do this and man, does she want to do this, there can be no discussion.
Her lips find his, just as desperate to be kissed.