Chapter Ten
Heopenedthedoor,revealing a warm, intimate dining room. The whole place glowed dimly in the candlelight. The ones on the wall were electric, but each table held a real dancing flame. Soft music tinkled in the background as a throaty female voice sang about love. The beautiful blonde hostess recognized him immediately, “Mr. Harris, right this way.” A warm smile spread across her face, and a pang of jealousy twisted in my gut. How well did she know him?
She showed us to the back of the restaurant, swaying her full hips a little more than was strictly necessary. The round booth sat in a private corner, intimate and romantic. Smooth and supple leather covered the bench, and I appreciated the texture of it as I sat down. The hostess handed us menus constructed of similar material.
I read over the descriptions of the classic French cuisine. They boasted farm-fresh, local ingredients. Before any words were exchanged, a bottle of red wine arrived at the table with two glasses. The young man who brought them over had a baby face and a nervous air. I got the distinct impression he was not our server. He poured the wine and waited for Mason to take a sip. “It’s fine, thank you.” He told him without tasting it. The boy nodded and walked away.
My brow arched. “Come here often?”
“I do, I’m fond of the atmosphere.” A husky note thickened his voice and made me inch closer to him.
The walls were a deep rusty color, with large photographs of food and French landscapes. The dim light made the table more private, and I thought of all the stolen kisses and touches that must have happened here. “The atmosphere is rather romantic. I can see why you come here often.” The suggestion sounded obvious, and he arched his own brow in response.
“I don’t come here on dates if that’s what you’re implying.” His long fingers wrapped around the stem of his wine glass, and a brief brush of jealousy went through me as he tipped it to his full lips. What I would give to be that glass.
My lips parted as I took in shallow breaths. “Who would you bring here if not dates?” I forced myself to smile, trying to hide the blatant lust lighting me up. His soft green eyes met mine and my thighs pressed together to quell the heat rising between them. All the naughty things he said to me and the pictures we exchanged charged our surroundings.
“No one.” His words hung in the air, clinging to the static sparking between us.
I looked down at my hands, trying to gather my thoughts. It was too easy to become befuddled staring into his eyes, watching the way he scratched his thumb against the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. I liked how he was confident enough to sit and eat alone in a place he enjoyed. Him sharing this with me made me feel special. “You really come here to eat alone?” I wanted to be someone he shared things with.
“I do.” He sipped his wine, and my mouth went dry as I stared at his lips. I took a long sip from my glass, hoping to douse the flames, but didn’t I know alcohol was flammable? The fire within me didn’t need any help to rage out of control.
“Do you try to be mysterious or does it come naturally to you?” I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.
His lips quirked up in a small smile as his gaze rested on the movement. “A little of both. Does it bother you?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I took a long sip of wine.
His brow furrowed as he thought of something unpleasant. “Do you have a car?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to pick you up?” His voice was too smooth, but a threat simmered beneath it.
I didn’t answer him immediately, toying with the cloth napkin I’d placed in my lap, trying to think of an adequateresponse. The truth was, I was wary after my date with Tyler, and I wanted a bit more time to feel him out before giving him my address. It felt silly sitting beneath his heavy gaze. “Maybe, I’ll let you drive me home.” The suggestive smile I gave him didn’t distract him like I’d hoped.
“Maybe I’ll drive you home,” he teased lightly, not fooled by my attempt at deflection for a second.
There wasn’t much I could get past him. He was so meticulously put together, so button-down, and gorgeous. His shirt was crisp and white, the red tie at his neck held a touch of gruesome suggestion. He controlled everything around him, and I could easily imagine how I would become one of those things.
I saw it in the annoyance on his face when we first met, and the enjoyment he’d gotten out of my embarrassment the time after that. The way he stared me down as he played with his wine glass like he knew I was the next fragile thing he’d hold in his hands further evidenced that belief.
“Have a look at your menu.” The command gave further credence to everything I was thinking.
I giggled softly to myself. He arched his brow and I shook my head gently. His bossing me around amused me, infuriated me, and made me wet. I picked up the menu and started reading, unable to help the grin on my face. The heat of his eyes touched my skin, but I ignored him. He wanted me to read, and that’s what I’d do.
The food sounded lovely, but there were no prices listed. Nervousness replaced the hunger in my stomach as I thought of how to handle this tactfully. Pasta was likely the cheapest option, but they didn’t have any. I didn’t want to spend his money, not because I feared I’d owe him, but because I could sense how freely he would give it. “Order whatever you’d like.” The absent-minded tone was put on. He still scrutinized my expressions intently enough to know exactly what I was worrying about.
Our waitress appeared, all gorgeous and leggy. She had a delicate French accent and warm hazel eyes. Her golden blonde hair tumbled down her back, the ponytail barely able to control the silken tresses. The lust in her eyes as she regarded Mason was obvious, but she was perfectly polite other than the blush on her cheeks.
I couldn’t help but think of how attractivethey would look together, and I pushed down the jealousy twisting in my stomach. He hardly glancedat her more than politeness demanded, and I knew it wasn’t either of them that made me feel that way. It was my sense of inadequacy. What could a man like Mason see in someone like me?
“Would you like an appetizer?” His warm voice left the tiny thong I wore drenched.
I swallowed before I told him, ”No, thank you.”
“A baked brie to start, Adelie, and I’ll have the steak frites, medium rare.” He gave her a friendly smile and her blush spread to her neck and collarbones.