Page 32 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

With her arms crossed, and a glare firmly in place, she seethes, “I said I wanted vodka on the rocks.”

“And you got vodka on the rocks.” I point to the glass tumbler in front of her. “You also said that you save red wine for special occasions.”

“And?”

“And today is a special occasion, don’t you think?”

“What makes it so special, Jack?”

“It’s our first date,” I reply with a grin before raising my drink in the air. Grudgingly, she joins me with hers, and I clink them together. “To the first of many.”

Her catlike eyes narrow. Then she brings the glass to her lips and takes a small sip.

“And here we are,” the waitress announces, setting down two glasses of wine in front of us. “Are you ready to order?”

“Lobster with lemon and asparagus on the side,” Bianca tells her.

“I’ll have the same,” I add.

The waitress jots our orders down, then leaves again.

When she’s gone, Bianca quips, “No butter?”

“Nah. If a glass of wine is 125 calories, I can only imagine how many are in the little cup of melted butter that they give you with lobster.”

“I thought you didn’t care about those kinds of things.”

“Balance, Bianca. It’s all about balance. Besides, if my wife is going to look like this”––I motion to the goddess across from me––“then I’m going to have to learn how to keep up. Wouldn’t want you dissatisfied with your husband’s appearance, right?”

Again, she scans me up and down. I’m sure she’s taking in every flaw. Every misplaced hair on my head. It probably drives her nuts that she’s stuck with my sorry ass who’s used to T-shirts and a pair of Nikes instead of an Armani suit and loafers.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, coming to some sort of conclusion, though I have no idea what it is. Then she reaches for the goblet holding the wine that matches her lips and takes a sip of it.

A soft sigh slips out of her, and it makes me smile.

“And?” I press. “How is it?”

“Very good. Thank you,” she adds after her assessment.

“You’re welcome. I’m not much of a wine drinker, but you’ve convinced me to give it another try.”

I follow suit and take a sip before nodding my agreement. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” She laughs.

“I mean, it’s still wine.”

“And you’re still a Fed no matter how well you clean up,” she quips.

I look down at my white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. It’s a style I didn’t wear until I stayed at the Dark King’s estate while the rest of the world hunted for me like a prized elk.

“Is that why you’re against the marriage, Bianca?” I ask, unable to help myself. “Because I’m a Fed?”

She licks her lips, then takes another sip of her drink. “Who says I’m against the marriage?”

“Call it a hunch,” I murmur.

“Here you go,” the waitress announces, interrupting us for what feels like the hundredth time in one night. The scent of seafood and tangy citrus assaults my senses as she sets two plates in front of us.

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