Page 2 of Just Can't Fall for the Enemy

That one was easy. “Heavens, no. Nor do I ever want to be. I like my privacy, thank you very much.”

His eyes flashed with something I couldn’t read. “Shame. You have the figure for it.”

He was honestly flirting with me right now? I could just walk out, but then he would have won. This date needed to end, and I needed him to be the first to surrender.

Time for drastic measures. Embarrassingones.

Ipicked up my fork and scooped as much spaghetti as it would hold. When the fork was full, I lifted my knife and used it to support the pasta that remained, letting the giant spaghetti nest hover inches from my mouth.

The man’s eyes went round.

I smirked and opened my mouth as far as it would go, shoving it all inside at once. The noodles dribbled down to my neck, splattering marinara all over my shirt and, to my satisfaction, one of his pristine cuff links. “Mmm,” I moaned around the food. “So goot.”

My stomach lurched, but it was worth it to see him lean back as if trying to put more distance between us, pure horror written across his face.

I eyed his plate. “Ah ooh going to eah that?”

He went green as I brought his plate closer and started to dig in. Then I grabbed my glass, which he’d filled to the brim—test number two and the first thing that tipped me off to his little test—and sipped it as loudly as I could, emitting a sickly slurping noise. A little girl giggled from the booth behind me.Most of the restaurant had gone quiet, I now realized, and watched with huge grins. They weren’t this man’s people, but they were most certainly mine—and they knew I had their backs tonight.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “H-have you ever been to a black-tie event?”

He wasstill here.How far would he make me take this? I thought quickly. “Only once, but not as a guest.”

His shoulders tensed. “A waiter?”

“No, no. I was the entertainment.” I picked up my glass, chugged half of it, and summoned my high school belching skills. It came at will—an eight out of ten but still acceptable.

The entire restaurant went still, the only movement coming from the man sitting behind my date, facing the other way in his booth. His shoulders began to bounce, his hand to his mouth to contain his laughter.

I wiped my mouth off and sighed loudly. “What do you think? Dessert?”

“I have to go.” My date bolted, his face as green as the bush outside our window.The bell dinged as the glass door slammed shut behind him.

The restaurant’s occupants began to roar with laughter. The little family’s father came over to slap me on the back. “Best shutdown I’ve ever seen, Sophie. They’ll be talking about this for years.”

“To Sophie,” a woman said, raising her glass of Diet Coke.

Most of the room lifted their glasses to the ceiling, including the little girl with her juice box. “To Sophie.”

I stood and gave a little curtsy. “Enjoy your night, everyone. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again.”

As the father returned to his seat and the room resumed conversation, I let myself relax.

You could have just walked out,I chided myself. That would have been the more mature thing to do. But stalking out of a bad date didn’t have the same . . . pizazz as driving him dramatically from town. And this had been far worse than a bad date. Drastic measures, indeed.

The man in the next booth stood, turned around, and gave a slow clap. “Well done.”

Oh no.

I swallowed. This man was everything my date wasn’t—casual, with short, dark-brown hair styled in a messy yet trendy way; comfortable jeans; and an open plaid shirt with a white undershirt that emphasized his strong build.A light, well-trimmed layer of stubble covered his chin. He wore sunglasses despite the setting sun outside. Something about him seemed oddly familiar.

“Thank you,” I said, still standing awkwardly by the messy table. My stomach suddenly rumbled, begging to empty itself of the contents I’d just inhaled. I had thirty seconds to a minute, tops. I found a fifty-dollar bill in my purse and tossed it next to my plate, hoping it would be enough. I’d have to call Alice tomorrow and apologize for tonight’s scene.

“Do you always drive obnoxious dates off in such an entertaining way?” the attractive stranger asked, dropping a wad of cash onto his own table.

Uh-uh.The handsome stranger was not following me out, not now. Even his voice seemed familiar somehow. Where had I met him before?

“Only in Italian restaurants,” I said. “He should have chosen Chinese.”

---