Page 78 of Crossing the Line
“Oh,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He seems eager and anxious. I hope he's not going to say what I think he's going to say. “I’ve never been on a safari. It’s on my bucket list, though. Maybe I’ll join you. Or visit.”
I sigh with a weary grunt. He said what I thought he was going to say. I hate being put in this position. Hercules’s assessment of me was accurate. I never beat around the bush, and I’m not going to start now.
I wipe my mouth with my cloth napkin and then place it next to my plate. I’m done eating. Listening to Clive go on and on for the better part of an hour has given me a headache. It’s time for the table to be cleaned and prepared for the next set of daters, and ideally, their dinner will be more successful.
“Clive.” I wait until I have his full attention. “You say you like me a lot. What exactly do you like about me?”
Confusion spreads over his face. He shifts in his chair and tugs at his collar. “What’s not to like about you?”
I whip my head into a tilt. “Is that your way of saying you don’t know exactly what you like about me?”
“You’re beautiful, for one.”
“And for two?”
He lifts one side of his mouth into a lopsided smile. “You smell good.”
“Three?”
He throws up a hand like he’s coming up with an answer before the clock runs out. “You’re nice.”
I’ve got to hand it to him—he knows how to bullshit like a good lawyer. “Have you ever thought about being a politician?”
“Really? You’re not the first person who’s asked me that.”
Oh God, he didn’t catch my sarcasm.I look around. This restaurant is pretty hopping. The patrons are twice our age, but they’re wealthy, gorgeous, and out to have a great night out. Maybe I would be having more fun here tonight if I’d come with Lake and Treasure. Then I remember that Eden sent me an email and said she’d be in town soon. I’ll put off my trip to Botswana until she comes, and we’ll have dinner or something.
“Paisley,” he calls.
I snap my attention back to him. Gosh, I let my mind wander for too long. “Yes.”
I see several things on his face. His lusty feline smile is one of them. Clive leans across the table, looking as if he’s about to let me in on a secret. “You want to grab a room for the night?”
My shoulders are stiff as I pinch my back against my chair. I can’t believe he asked me that. But I’m not infuriated or offended. Finally, he’s talking my language, and my language is frankness.
Smirking, I bend forward so he can hear me clearly over the chatter. “No.” I clutch my purse. I can’t take this anymore. “Thank you for the dinner. Good night.”
“Wait,” he says, reaching out as if to stop me from leaving. “Where are you going?”
“Home”—I wave a hand, showing him the room—“but by all means, Clive, stay. Maybe you can coax one of the many lovely ladies here into joining you in your hotel room.” In a loud whisper, I say, “Maybe you can tell them all about your vineyard in Napa. Again, good night.”
Striding through the restaurant, weaving through tables, I know better than to hail a cab right away. My guess is that it’s going to take Clive about ten seconds to process what just happened between us. I certainly believe that he thinks going from dinner to his hotel room is a reasonable progression for the two of us. Once those ten seconds are up, though, he’ll come looking for me and insist on driving me home, like a gentleman. And on the way, he’ll apologize for his behavior without really comprehending why it was a problem. He’ll just want another date so he can figure out a different way to get me in bed. It’ll just be too awkward, and I don’t want to keep turning him down.
So I hide out in the ladies’ room. And while I’m in a stall, it finally hits me. He thinks I easily fall into bed with men because Hercules and I were caught tonguing byTop Rag Magand had sex on the night of Lake and Mason’s engagement party.
I groan into the palm of my hand. I have made all the wrong decisions since Hercules came back into my life. Starting tonight, I’ll be making all the right decisions.
* * *
After exactly ten minutes,I come out of the stall, wash my hands, and then exit the ladies’ room. My feet come to a grinding stop, and I’m shocked to see Clive standing with his hands in his pockets, gazing at me with a defenseless and contrite look on his face.
“Sorry,” he says.
My lips part, but no words come out, not yet.
“I realize I came off like a jerk. My intention was not to take you upstairs to sleep with you.”
The bathroom door opens. Since he said he was sorry, I let him close the distance between us as two ladies pass, eyeing us curiously.
“I wanted to get to know you better—that’s all,” he says, keeping his voice low.
I grunt bitterly. “How is taking me to your hotel roomgetting to know me betterif sex isn’t involved?”
“We could’ve shared a bottle of wine, talked, and then watched a movie or something. Listen…” He checks over his shoulder, to see who’s chatting. Down the hallway walk a man and a woman, who appear to be lovers, heading in our direction. They pay scant attention to us as they pass. When we’re alone again, I feel my armor dissolving. It takes guts to find me and face me so that we can talk it out.
“You’re into Hercules Lord. I understand that. I guess I was too eager. Talking about myself like a narcissist. I was trying too hard to convince you that I’m a better option, I think. But I know it’s going to take some time for you to move past him. And, Paisley, I’m willing to wait. Because like I said, I like that you’re beautiful and kind—gentle but strong and smart too. And you’re graceful, Paisley, very graceful.” Wearing the sincerest expression, Clive takes a step back to put a comfortable distance between us. “Please, will you let me take you home?”
