Sam flashed his signature charming smile at me, but I knew he was not smiling on the inside. “I guess we’ll have to enjoy this fine wine by ourselves then. You okay to stay for dinner still?”
“Sure.” Of course I would stay. Iwas practically drooling at the delicious smells tickling my nostrils.
Sam motioned a hand to the lady, his go-ahead to open the wine bottle. The lady uncorked the bottle, and poured a sip for Sam to taste.
Like a pro connoisseur, Sam held the glass’s bottom on the table to swirl it in that spot, then raised the glass close to his nostrils to capture a whiff of the wine and took a sip to taste. This man could be an expert on anything, except maybe on coffee. He could never understand the difference between Arabica and Robusta coffee beans. Could be because he simply despised coffee altogether.
“Mm, buttery,” Sam commented on the wine.
The lady went on to serve wine into my glass. Poured into Sam’s too. Then she set the bottle in the nearby cooling bucket stand.
It was only when the lady stepped away from our table that Sam let out a deep nervous breath. “Shit. Had a hunch he’d cancel on me. The last call I had with him, he gave me reason to think he was inclined to go with another company. Guess I should have accepted dinner with his daughter instead of insisting on him personally.”
“Because dealing with a woman is easier for you, isn’t it? You’d have easily won her over with your sweet talk.”
“Sweet talk? Hell, I would have flat out seduced her with a million compliments if it meant I’d get Zimmerman’s business. She’s his second in command.”
“Wow. You are bold, Mr Webb.”
“I am. You’ll always know exactly where you are with me, sunshine.”
“I’m not quite sure where I am with you. A little bird told me you never took your former Creative Director to a business dinner with you. Does this mean I’m up for a raise?”
“Your salary is already way higher than the former Director. But you’re right. I never invited that grumpy, fifty-year-old man to dinner with me. Imagine if we ever had a guest cancelling on us like what just happened now, how awkward it would have been to stay for dinner with just him.”
I chuckled. “Oh, so you brought me here because I’m a woman. You just wanted to parade me around, hence your request to ‘dress to impress.’”
Sam looked down at me again. A brief few seconds, yet he could have seen beneath my clothes with that one eagle-eyed once-over.
He inclined slightly to my side, his elbow grazing my arm. “You’re totally worthy of being shown off. You’re magnificent. You, your dress, your talent. All of you. I wouldn’t mind dinner with you under any circumstance.”
Was he flirting with me? Did he think I was flirting with him? I was simply carrying on with the banter.
“I trust you blindly, Lucille. You’re one of the few people I know who started from the bottom of the ladder. I admire those people. To have reached this high from the bottom, you learned more than I did from always being at the top. I straight out started my own company with your Joe right after university. Not the best choice, mind you.”
“But you did it.”
“So did Joe. How long have you been with him now?”
“I’ve known him for seven years. We only moved in together last summer.”
“So you met him right after my friendship with him was over. You took the spot I had vacated. Quite surprising that a delightful woman like you kept up with him this long. Excuse my insensitivity, but I can’t help to spite him. I lost a lot of money because of him.”
“But now you’re probably raking more money than him.”
“Of course I am. I am the best in town. The ultimate elite.”
That was true. And I don’t say that because I work with Sam. If my opinion was biased, I would say my best friend’s company was better. Joe’s was good but not as elite as Sam’s. This man could attract clients – or anyone with a pulse in general – with just his charms. Though I’d never share these opinions with Joe.
“Joe and I don’t talk much about business. Actually, we don’t talk much at all.” I let the words slip without realizing it.
“Trouble in paradise?” Sam must have caught my dull tone.
“Joe and I, we…”
Hell, I couldn’t possibly explain Joe and me. I couldn’t tell Sam that lately, Joe and I only spoke in text messages three times a day at the most. And that was on a good day. I couldn’t say that Joe and I haven’t had a face-to-face conversation longer than five minutes in weeks. Or that we were coexisting in the same house and sometimes went a day or two without seeing each other because Joe didn’t come home and stayed at his office overnight. Joe and I, we don’t have sex anymore either. The last time we did was four months ago, no, five… Ah shit, I was babbling to myself.
And Sam was reading into my frown.