Page 14 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
She laughs, shakes her head, selects an item from the platter, and pops it into her mouth. She chews for a moment and then moans in ecstasy.
“Watching you eat is almost pornographic.” I sip my espresso. When Darcy clutches the edge of the table and starts to dry hump the booth, I try not to choke.
“Bring it home, baby!” she cries, pounding a fist on the table. “Give it to mama!”
I start to laugh, she throws her head back and whoops in faux climax, and then an amused voice says, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Darcy falls still. She looks at Parker, standing at our tableside. Without an ounce of chagrin, she says, “Mr. Maxwell. You’ve caught me in flagrante delicto with a pastry, I’m afraid.” She smiles at him. A fine dusting of confectioner’s sugar highlights the bow of her lips. “My compliments to the chef.”
“He’ll be thrilled to hear it. I think you’ve made his entire year tonight. I’ve never seen him so…” Parker glances at me. His voice drops. “Enamored.”
I stare at him over the rim of my espresso cup. Neither of us looks away. All the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Darcy delicately pats her mouth with her napkin. “I have that effect on people. And if you came over to find out what I’m going to write about the food, I’m sorry, but you’ll be disappointed. You’ll have to wait for my article, just like everyone else.”
“It isn’t your article I’m interested in,” Parker murmurs. He sends me a smile of such carnal suggestion my stomach turns.
Or does it drop? Flip? I can’t decide what exactly my stomach is doing. Whatever it is, it’s strange, and I don’t like it.
Parker isn’t looking at Darcy, so he doesn’t notice the outraged Oh no you didn’t! glare she sends him. I know it’s not because he’s dissed her; it’s that she’s being protective of me.
She might have a point. Either Parker has figured out who I am and has some nefarious plan in mind, or he’s a womanizing a-hole of epic proportions. Who would be more concerned with flirting than making a good impression on the food critic who could potentially write a highly unflattering piece on his restaurant, and cost him money?
A womanizing a-hole of epic proportions, that’s who.
I’m thankful I’m not one of those women who blush or giggle uncontrollably in uncomfortable situations. No. I am a woman who has turned eye contact into a contact sport. I hold Parker’s gaze. A violent smile hovers at the corners of my lips. Something crackles between us, bright as danger.
I say, “We’re ready for the check whenever you have a chance, Mr. Maxwell.”
Parker lifts an eyebrow. “Leaving so soon?”
I don’t have to look around the restaurant to know that Darcy and I are one of the last tables here. I simply widen my murderous smile and remain silent.
After a time, he says, “Well, it was my honor to have you. The meal’s on the house.”
“Oh, we couldn’t possibly let you do that,” I say.
Now Parker smiles. “Of course you could. It’s my pleasure.”
Darcy bats her lashes at him. “You’re not trying to buy a good review, are you Parker?”
Parker’s smile dies. Stiffly he turns to her. “Pandering isn’t my style, Ms. LaFontaine.” Without another word, he stalks off.
Bemused, Darcy watches him go. “Proud much, Captain America?”
Yes, I want to say. He’s always been like that. Even when he was seventeen years old, he was proud, stubborn and easily insulted. If egos were animals, his would be a Siamese cat.
He was never vain, though. Or pretentious, or arrogant, even though he was the wealthiest and best-looking kid in town.
All this tripping down memory lane is giving me a headache.
“Well, if we don’t need to wait for the check, I think I’ll hit it, Darcy. I’m exhausted.”
She examines me carefully from the corner of her eye while pretending to pick over the dessert platter. “Hmm.”
I sigh. “I’m fine. Honestly. But the sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can forget about seeing him, and the sooner my headache will go away. Don’t worry about me. You know I’ve got skin like stainless steel.”
She sends me a pointed look. “Even stainless steel eventually rusts.”
