Page 28 of Love in Fine Print

That was definitely a tick in the con category. The kiss-on-the-back-of-the-hand move was not one I was a fan of. To me, it read: desperate to be considered a gentleman. When someone tried so hard to make the world perceive them in a certain way, it made me wonder what they were hiding.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked as the server appeared beside us.

“Mr. Craig, your table is ready.”

“We’re just having drinks,” I informed the young man who was holding menus, assuming there was a miscommunication. Drinks were what I’d agreed to. Anything more than that was way too much of a commitment.

Anyone who’d had to sit through a painful, awkward meal with a stranger that they had no interest in knowing knew the horror of the situation. I didn’t do horror. I didn’t do painful. I didn’t do awkward. Dinners were a big no-go for a first date.

“The food here is not to be missed. Don’t worry, it’s my treat,” Darius assured me.

The monetary value of the meal had nothing to do with me not wanting to get a table. His insinuation that my boundary was financially motivated was a little bit insulting.

My first instinct was to insist that we remain at the bar. But I was hungry. Thanks to back-to-back court appearances in the morning and a long mediation in the afternoon, the last thing I’d had was my green smoothie at six this morning.

Also, Trevor had thrown down the gauntlet of remaining in this man’s presence for a full hour. At least I could eat to pass the time.

With a nod of my chin, the server showed us to the table. The young man with shaggy brown hair and a tattoo of a butterfly on his neck introduced himself as Gannon and then went over the specials for the evening before asking me if I’d like anything to drink.

“I’ll take a gin and?—”

“We’ll have a bottle of Dom Pérignon,” Darius cut in as he took the menu out of my hand and held it out with his toward Gannon. “We’ll start with the calamari and lobster bisque and for our mains we’ll have the filet mignon medium rare.”

The young kid nodded and started to walk away, but I stopped him, “Actually, Gannon, I’ll take a gin and tonic, and I would like to have the grilled salmon for my main with a side salad, house dressing.”

After several uncomfortable seconds of silence where Gannon looked between me and Darius, he finally nodded. “Coming right up.”

The moment Gannon was out of earshot, Darius leaned forward with a smirk on his face. “So, you’re one ofthose.”

I stared at him, telling myself to keep my mouth shut. If he wanted to share what “one of those” was, he could. But I refused to be bated into asking.

My silence didn’t stop his explanation.

“Women all say they want a man who takes charge, but when a man does, they get their panties in a twist.”

A small grin tilted at the edges of my mouth. “Believe me, Darius, you could never haveanyeffect on my panties.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I think you like a man who stands up to you. Who isn’t intimidated by the Maneater.”

Ah, so that’s where the attitude was coming from. Apparently, my reputation had preceded me. This was his way of showing his alpha-ness. It was sad, really. Real men, true alphas, never had to demonstrate their masculinity. Their dominance. Their command. They exude it naturally. It iswhothey are.

This guy was all about the show and what his image was, which was one of my biggest turn-offs. That, being rude, smoking, and not liking dogs. I didn’t trust anyone who didn’t like dogs.

As badly as I wanted to get up and leave, I even more badly wanted to prove Trevor wrong. I’d spent my share of time with egotistical chauvinists. I could definitely handle an hour with one.

“Since you seem to know who I am, why don’t you tell me about yourself? What do you do, Darius?”

Finance. It had to be finance. I’d bet my entire Jimmy Choo collection that he was in finance.

“I’m in finance.”

Damn, I’m good. Most men in finance had a stench of arrogance that made my skin crawl, and Darius reeked of it.

The drinks were delivered and despite my objections, Darius instructed Gannon to pour me a glass of the Dom.

Thankfully, once he got the first drink in him, he babbled on about missing his calling as a sommelier and his prowess in the vino selection. His ‘conquests’ in business and with women. Apparently, he’d ‘bagged’ two Playboy models and had a threesome with a WWE women’s wrestler and a Vegas showgirl. He could also bench three-fifty and was a poker champion. He loved deep-sea fishing and snowboarding.

As boring as the conversation was, it was nice to not have to do any of the work. I could just sit back and let the minutes pass as he waxed poetic about what a great catch he was.

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