Page 29 of Love & Rockets

The apology was automatic but utterly sincere. He was sorry. Not for staring—because what man with blood in his veins wouldn’t—but for making her feel uncomfortable. Things had been going so well. When she opened the door, he’d managed to greet and compliment her without having to roll his tongue up like a rug and tuck it back in his mouth. They’d chatted easily on the drive to the restaurant. He’d even managed to hand his car over to the valet without tripping over his feet and landing in the gutter. Then, he took his seat directly across from her and completely lost his shit.

“I’m so sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He swallowed what was left of his pride and forced himself to meet her eyes so he could finish issuing his apology honestly and directly. “You’re just...beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her eyelashes fluttered, but there was nothing flirty or fake about her reaction. Thick lashes swept up to reveal dark eyes shining with pleasure, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a flash of devilry. “I borrowed the dress.”

He held her gaze, emboldened by the tempting sparkle. “I’m writing the thank-you note in my head right now.”

“So well brought-up.”

“Please don’t tell my mother you caught me staring.”

Her chin came up a notch. “Not worried I’d tell your daddy?”

“I think we both know my mom’s the truly scary one. And Dad probably would’ve looked, too, but he’s had decades more practice, so he’s better at not getting caught.” He reached for his own glass and lifted it in a small toast.

“You might need to have your glasses checked.”

He chuckled and swallowed the sip of wine without even registering the flavor. Grateful to be let off the hook so easily, he picked up his knife and fork. His brow furrowed as he looked down at his sauce-drenched plate. “I don’t even know what the hell I ordered.”

“Some kind of fancy chicken-fried chicken,” she said, cutting into her fillet.

Frowning at the wine in his glass, he gave his head a shake to kick-start his brain. “I think you short-circuited my wiring.”

“Good.”

Startled by the decisiveness in her tone, he raised an eyebrow. “Good?”

She slid a bite of beef into her mouth and took her time chewing before giving up an explanation. “Well, no woman shoots for being one of the guys.”

“A man would have to be completely blind to mistake you for one of the guys.”

Darla dismissed his clumsy compliment with a wave of her fork. “Don’t tell Harley I said this, him being Mr. Moneyman around here and all, but I don’t get why everyone’s so crazy about this place. The food is good, but I don’t know it’s all that different. I mean, it’s a steak. Does throwing some goat cheese on the plate make it better?”

He smiled, amused by her irreverence. “I guess if you’re a foodie, it does.”

“Are you a foodie?”

Jake laughed as he cut into his chicken. Thirty seconds passed before he realized she was actually asking the question. “Me?” He shook his head. “I mean, I like food, but I’m not particularly picky about what I eat.”

“Then I don’t need to warn you I think I saw six different kinds of pepper listed for your gravy.”

Lifting his cutlery, Jake studied the thick layer of sauce covering his chicken. “Are there six different kinds of pepper?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I read the menu wrong.” A slow, playful smile curved her lips as she shot a pointed look at the sconce closest to their table. “I suppose they call this ambiance, but to me it looks like Harley and Chef Tommy are too cheap to pay the light bill.”

This time Jake laughed outright. Only Darla would dare call Harley Cade cheap. The fact that she lumped his partner, one of the Cooks Network’s biggest stars, in with the man most of Mobile thought had the Midas touch when she was proclaiming them skinflints was gravy.

“Now I’m a little afraid to taste it,” he admitted, poking at his food with the tines of his fork.

“I’d offer you some of my steak, but….” She let the thought trail away as if the impossibility of such a thing happening was a foregone conclusion.

He eyed the rapidly dwindling serving of grass-fed beef and chuckled. “There’s not enough. I understand.”

One finger lifted, then the others joined in, signaling for him to hold the thought while she finished the morsel she’d denied him. “And another thing.” She set her utensils aside. “The prices,” she hissed. She reached for her wine and her neckline gaped, completely undermining whatever outrage she was attempting to stir in him.

His focus zoomed in on the sweet curves the plunging neckline revealed and he was lost. “I wanted to kiss you.”

One dark brow arched as she set her glass down. “What? You did.”