Page 48 of Take 2
“Sixty percent.”
Right on the port, our table overlooks yachts and sailboats with buildings up the hillside beyond it. This restaurant would probably be great for brunch, hence the early closing time, but I’m happy to be as close to the sea as possible at any time of day. Maybe that’s my inner Midwesterner.
“So only forty percent because you wanted to?”
“No, that’s probably thirty percent. Ten is because I wanted to come here. Oh, does that count toward wanting to? I assumed you meantbecause I wanted to do this with you.”
“It was, but you could have been nice and rolled them together.”
“And boost your ego? I’d never.” I flash a wide smile.
“Are you really still willing to be sassy so close to water?”
“I tend to repeat my mistakes.”
He dips his chin. “Well, I tend to learn from them.Throwing her into water equals pissedis filed for future reference.”
“Except I took you out on a date afterward, so I guess I’m training you to throw me into water.”
“And you claim to not be complicated.”
I shrug. “I guess I need to provide you with better options to get me wet.”
“It’ll still result in your hair being wrecked.”
“And there would still be screaming.” I wink and pull my expression together with masterful speed.
“Are you ready to order?” our server asks in heavily accented English.
“Oui, merci.”My entire French vocabulary is now exhausted.
Dinner on the French Riviera is kind of mind-blowing in itself, but I’m here with Preston. And we’re having fun! And being nice to each other—in our way. Not to knock the dinner we had last night, but splitting a bottle of wine really allows me to enjoy the meal more. This is a perfect level of disinhibition. Not enough to try to take his clothes off—can’t believe I was so trashed that I don’t remember that—but just right to ask stupid questions.
“How does a three-time Oscar-winning writer with a full head of hair,”—huzzah for not having enough wine to comment on his hair’s utter perfection—“and your body, remain single?”
“I guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”
“Then you realized you’re getting old and decided to settle for me instead?”
He takes a bite of a sweet, wheat pancake, which was flambéed in Grand Marnier, and considers while he swallows. “Impatience is a vice of mine.”
That’s something we have in common. Especially as I have to repeatedly pull my gaze away from his lips. Stopping that kiss seems like a grievous mistake in hindsight. He is a really good kisser.
I take care of the bill despite Preston’s protests. “This is my apology-for-being-a-pain-in-the-ass dinner. Let me have this.”
“Then what am I supposed to do to make up for throwing you off a boat?”
“Oh, I can think of some things.”
He doesn’t break eye contact. It’s impossible to embarrass this man. “Are you always this bold?”
I pull my hair over my shoulder and stand. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He rises, and we set off down the street on foot. Monaco glows on one side, and the sea fades off into darkness on the other.
“Does Rafael know you used him as bait to get me here?”
Preston chuckles. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
