Page 21 of Scottish Seducer
She played with her necklace. “You bring out the old me, I guess.”
“Was the fake you hoping to be boring, then? Who the devil did Richard remind you of in those books of yours?”
The waiter arrived with our meals and, after I approved the wine, filled our glasses.
Stephanie sucked in her lips and stared at her plate. My lamb smelled better.
Finally, she looked up at me and said, “I thought he was a little bad, but in the end, he wasn’t a Mr. Knightly type like I’d imagined. I suppose he was worse than Willoughby was to Marianne.”
“I’m glad I don’t fit in the books so you can only judge me for me.” I placed my napkin on my lap, the same as she did. “I need to get caught up on these books so I can understand you.”
We both ate a few bites. I saw she pinched her nose like she wasn’t a fan of her dinner, so I slipped some lamb on her plate and grabbed some of the old bird in exchange. She didn’t comment on my smooth move, but instead asked, “And me? If you’re reading Jane Austen for my world, what should I be catching up on so I can learn more about your interests?”
Nice. Good. Hopefully, she would start seeing this as a relationship the way I needed her to.
I finished my bite of the too-dry duck and said, “You won’t find them in a book, Stephanie.”
She bit into the lamb I gave her and let out a small moan of approval. When she finished chewing, she asked, “How will I find out, then?”
“No homework required.” I said quickly, then sipped some wine. “Most of my days are filled with meetings of people who bore me. If you continue to make me think beyond my own dreams of tomorrow, and blow my mind like you did earlier, then I’ll be the happiest man alive.”
After we finished our meals, she said, “I don’t get why you think you’re interested in me when you’re always coming up with ideas like flying cars and spaceships.”
I ordered our desserts to go so we’d beat the rain and enjoy them, hopefully sans clothes, in my dining room. I didn’t share the plan yet, but we sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments with the bill until the to-go bags showed up. As we stood, she took my hand and we headed toward the door.
I slowed as we passed the side view and whispered in her ear, “Your ex is at the bar.”
I clutched her hand and darted toward them, though she asked, “Why are we going over there?”
I gave her hand an extra squeeze and said, “Come now, you must want to cause a little jealousy.”
She shook her head and said, “I—”
“Richard, there you are.” I interrupted whatever excuse for avoidance she’d concocted then hugged her when we arrived at her ex, and said, “Stephanie is being coy with me about her favorite stone, and I want to buy her jewelry she can’t say ‘no’ to. Would either of you know her secret?”
She squeezed my hip gently, but her eyes were wide open. “Charlie!”
Ann narrowed her gaze at Stephanie. “She has always wanted the topaz cross like Jane Austen’s real-life brother gave her, and which she described in the bookMansfield Park.”
Stephanie’s face turned red, which meant it was true. Every woman I ever met asked for necklaces, earrings, and hinted for a ring one day, so I waved away the suggestion. “That’s nothing. I was thinking diamonds.”
Richard lowered his head and said, “Pearls will look good for her reenactment.”
“Not bad.” I said and saw Stephanie’s head drop down. I hugged her and said, “I’m hoping she can wear them whenever she wants.”
“Let’s go.” She said, tugging on my hand. I waved them off and dashed outside with Stephanie. The air was heavy with moisture, so we sped up to make it home before we got soaked. Halfway in the two-minute walk, rain started, and she said, “You didn’t need to talk about jewelry.”
I took out a key and opened the door for us both as I said, “It’s true, though. I’d like to get you something to remember me by.”
She squeezed my shoulder as she slipped past me and into the house. “Just having you hold my hand is enough.”
I closed the door behind us and locked up for the night. Then I kissed her cheek, and said, “Now we both know that’s a sweet lie.”
I directed her to the dining table, where I set down the to-go desserts bag, then walked past her toward the wine cellar.
She followed me and said, “Charlie, I don’t know about the future, but tonight I hope to find out what it’s like to sleep next to you.”
A zap shot through me, and for one second, I smiled at the brick wall housing my selection. I grabbed a bottle and said, “You actually think there will be much sleeping?”
She put her hand on her hip and tilted her head. “Well...I mean you’re bound to get tired at some point.”
I traced her side the second I approached. “That’s why I took you to dinner...so you can last till morning.”
She took the bottle when I let her go and I grabbed two glasses as she said, “Ahh. I hadn’t known you were that much of a taskmaster.”
I squeezed her ass as we headed upstairs together, and said, “Earlier was just a warm-up.”
First, we’d share the wine and the chocolate cake from the restaurant, then I’d feast on her, because she needed to know that I absolutely wanted her.
