Page 40 of Degrees of Control

James’s jaw tightened. “Did he bother you?”

“Nope. He just offered me a tour, which I refused because it sounded like a euphemism. That guy is creepy as shit.”

“He lost his virginity to a hooker his daddy paid for, what do you expect?”

Charlie laughed. “I guess it’s better than those boys who get preyed on by their maths teachers.”

James didn’t respond, just looked out into the traffic as though something extremely important had caught his eye.

Weird.Charlie frowned, wondering if she should apologize. Maybe he knew someone who had been taken advantage of by a teacher? Before she could say anything James stopped in front of a blue and white striped restaurant.“Here’s the place.”

He placed a palm on the small of her back and led her inside. Charlie swallowed hard. If she was underdressed in the Walker building, she might as well be naked here. This was the kind of restaurant where they had white linen napkins and a wine list longer thanWar and Peace. Upscale didn’t begin to describe it. They were seated and James ordered wine for himself and sparkling water for his woeful date. An older woman glanced at James, resplendent in Italian wool, then at Charlie’s smock dress and sneered.

So it does look like a rich guy is buying a runaway a meal in exchange for a blowjob. Great.

It was so unfair. James could waltz into her work, her life, her bed, and everyone would be impressed. Charlie felt like a peasant. Like Pretty Woman.

It isn’t like that. He isn’t like that.

To distract herself from her possible whoredom, Charlie seized the menu. Upon examination, her stomach fell further. She couldn’t see a single thing that wasn’t soaked in animal fats. As she contemplated a tactful way of telling James she was going to have to stick to dinner rolls, their waitress, a cute blonde, approached with their drinks. She gave Charlie a strange look.

Join the club, lady, and bring me your finest bread while you’re at it.

“Hello, sir, ma’am, I’m Jemma and I’ll be your hostess this afternoon. Are you ready to order?”

James smiled at her. “What would you like, Charlotte?”

He noticed her expression and dropped the southern gentleman act instantly. “Oh shit, can you eat anything here?”

“It’s cool, I’ll just have a salad.”Then go home and eat four sandwiches.

James’ eyes widened. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I completely forgot.”

“Are you a vegan?” the waitress asked. Charlie nodded and she beamed. “Me too. How annoying is French food? Butter is in, like, everything. I’d suggest the Pommes frites. Ooh, and Waldorf salad, the chefs make it for me with cashew mayonnaise. How does that sound?”

Charlie laughed with relief. “Thank you so much, you’re amazing. I was contemplating an entire meal of bread.”

“No problem, gorgeous, happy to help.”

Jemma gave Charlie a wink that could only be described as salacious.Well, hello there.

“Do you teach yoga on High Street by any chance?” Jemma asked, twisting a finger through her blonde hair.

“I do. Are you a member?”

Jemma beamed. “No, but my friend is and she’s always raving about this tiny vegan Australian. I heard your accent and I was like, how many cute vegan Australians live in Minneapolis?”

Charlie felt like her head was being overinflated with hot air. Was she actually getting hit on by a waitress in the fanciest restaurant she’d been to since her high school graduation? She didn’t have to wonder for long; Jemma pursed her lips and looked around fervently, as though contemplating something risky. “Do you want to go out sometime? Like on a date?”

Charlie felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. She gestured to James, who looked like someone had thumped him with a sock full of batteries. “Uh, I think I’m already on a date. Thanks though, I’m really flattered.”

Jemma pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, I thought you were having a meeting with a mortgage broker or something. How old are you?”

Charlie tried not to laugh. “Twenty-four.”

“Okay, well sorry about that. I’ll take in your order, your food won’t be too long.” Jemma made to stride away and James cleared his throat. For a moment she stared at him, her irritation obvious, then she flushed. “I’m sorry, sir, what can I get you?”

“Braised oxtail,” James said, his mouth a flat line.

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