Page 98 of The Hot Shot
“My regret is an ocean.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Besides,” I say, “I’m going out to dinner with James when we get home.”
“Right.” Finn can’t hide his disappointment. But it doesn’t last because the man is not a quitter. He nods as if deciding something. “I’ll just have to fuck you later tonight.”
“God.” I laugh, shaking my head, even as heat licks up my thighs. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Babe, you have no idea.”
I should have known something was up as soon as James told me he was treating me to dinner at Lüke. He knows full well I love the desserts there, and that I become a contented, purring pussycat after eating one.
But no, I’d been so distracted by my anticipation over said desserts that I let myself be lulled into a false sense of security.
“Look at you,” James says as we sit down at a tiny table by the window. “You’re freaking glowing.”
“It’s a suntan.” I scan the menu, bypassing the dinner section. “Oh, they have steamed chocolate tonight.”Orgasm in the Form of Chocolateshould be the dessert’s formal title.
“No... it’s not the suntan.”
James peers at me for too long, and I fight the urge to lift my menu in front of my face. Instead, I return his stare with a bland expression. But it doesn’t work. He suddenly beams.
“You fucked him!”
A table of older businessmen turns our way.
I glance at the men now snickering at us, give them a death glare that has them looking away, before leaning in to hiss at James. “Would you keep it down? I like this restaurant. And you cannot tell I had sex with Finn just by looking at me.”
“You’re blushing bright red,” James points out.
Fuck.
“All right, Miss Marple, I had sex with Finn. Can we eat now?”
“We don’t have any food to eat yet. And if you’re going to make me a Christie detective, make me Poirot.”
“I knew you had a Poirot thing! With all those hats and bow ties.”
James gives me a level look. “Are you sureyouaren’t Miss Marple?”
“Truthfully, I’d love to live a Miss Marple life when I’m older. Settle down in a quaint English village, rife with murder and deceit and afternoon teas.”
James rests his chin in his hand. “I’ve missed you, Chessie Bear.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
James has been in New York more than he’s been in New Orleans. At this point, I see Finn more than I see James.
“That’s it?” James says now, his feathery red brows lifting in outrage.
“What are you talking about?”
He huffs. “You’re not going to tell me anything about Finn?”
“God. When do I ever give you details?”
I swear the man’s bow tie trembles with ire. He practically leans across the table. “Since you nailed Finn Mannus.”
