Page 41 of Love Undiscovered
Chapter 11
Chance
I lead Remi toward the table. I have to admit I’m absolutely floored the evening has turned out this way. I can, and at the same time can’t, believe that Remi is Alex’s ex-bitch. And suddenly I’m not quite as certain about my victory with this bet as I was before.
I know Remi and I had chemistry at one point, ten years ago. But do we still have it? No doubt about it, the woman is gorgeous. I mean like cartoon-guy’s-eyes-popping-out-of-his-head kind of gorgeous. A dark-haired Jessica Rabbit in human form. And Remi is a spitfire so I can see her tapping out on Alex during sex. But Alex doesn’t seem to be lacking in lady skills.
What if she just doesn’t like sex? What if she’s frigid? The thought makes me shiver as we’re walking. And not in a good way.
“Cold, simpleton?” she asks, eyebrows arched.
“Just a little draft, I think. You okay?”
“Oh, I’m good.” The way she says it, the huskiness in her voice, makes me hope that maybe this won’t be such a bad night after all.
We take our seats at the table, boy-girl-boy-girl, and peruse the menus while waiting for the staff to take our order.
“So, you guys know each other?” Alex asks Remi and me.
“He worked a case with my friend, Kat, earlier this yea—” she says at the same time that I say, “We hooked up in college.”
“Which is it?” Alex asks with an uneasy laugh.
“Both,” I say at the same time Remi says, “We never hooked up.”
“Huh. Okay. So, Harley…” Alex turns toward Harley and begins talking to her.
I face Remi. “What’s it gonna take to thaw you, Icy?”
“Thaw me?” she scoffs. “That’s a good one. Did you think of that all on your own?”
“I did,” I say, then add, “And I went potty all by myself today too.” Only I say the second part in a baby voice.
She starts laughing, which is what I want. She’s stunning when she laughs. It warms her face, which is usually so stoic; and her laugh is full. You can tell that she’s enjoying herself and isn’t afraid to feel it or show it. It’s one of the few times she shows any emotion at all, outside of anger or disdain. A man could get addicted to it.
The staff comes by, Alex orders a bottle of wine for him and Harley. I order a martini for Remi, extra dirty, and a bourbon, neat, for myself.
“What if I didn’t want a martini?”
“You always order a martini,” I say. “And you always order it extra dirty. It’s like you think the olives are the appetizer course.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize you were an expert on my life and how I take my cocktails. Please continue while I take notes.”
“Would you prefer something else?”
“No, it’s what I would have ordered,” she sighs. “But there might be a time when I don’t want a martini, so stop being presumptuous.”
“You’re implying there will be a next time,” I say. “So now who’s being presumptuous?”
“Touché,” she says, and raises her glass toward me. I tap mine to hers lightly.
Time to step it up a notch.
I set my drink down; take hers and set it down. Then lead her by the hand towards the dance floor.
“I wasn’t finished with that.”
“I know.”
