Page 10 of Reckless Desire

Her throat bobs up and down a few times. The air between us has changed too many times already. From the chill to an inferno and back. Her confusing messages are giving me whiplash. I don’t think she even knows what effect she has on me. What I’d like to know is: why? What the hell is happening?

“So what do we do?” Sydney asks, color spreading through her cheeks.

“We talk.” Her discomfort is kind of attractive. I need to snap out of this strange infatuation with a woman I don’t know. Not good for business.

“What about?” She narrows her eyes, her tone so genuine it makes me chuckle.

“Whatever you want to talk about. Usually women talk a lot on these dates.”

The server brings our water—flown in from some European glacier—and a bottle of Dom Perignon. Sydney wasn’t joking about her revenge. She fiddles with the butter knife, avoiding my eyes until the server leaves.

“Okay, but usually women book you. I’m still in shock here.” She looks around, as if being seen with me is a crime.

“You don’t enjoy having fun?”

She jerks her head back like she’s offended by the suggestion. Or maybe surprised by the concept of having fun.

“I’m just not okay with this. With paying for sex. Technically, London is paying, but you know what I mean.”

“There doesn’t have to be sex.”

She drops the butter knife and leans forward, studying me, dissecting the truth behind my statement.

“How is it supposed to work?” Even the slight exasperation in her tone is attractive. I’m fucked.

“What do you mean?” Watching her squirm may be my new favorite activity.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but your job, or hobby or whatever it is, doesn’t really have the best reputation. So I’m just wondering how it all works?”

“It’s an honest transaction. A woman pays for a service and I deliver it. Usually she’s just looking for a companion. In this case, since you’re not paying and you seem very uncomfortable, why don’t we have some of this champagne”—I raise my glass—“and talk a little.”

She smiles and takes a sip. “What doyouwant to talk about?”

“You,” I say without thinking and Sydney swallows visibly. Her blush spreads even further. So much for my excellent conversation skills. “Or whatever you feel like,” I add in a desperate effort to make her more comfortable. Or to erase my stupid suggestion. I don’t want to know more about her. What for? I won’t see her ever again after tonight.

I’m already attracted to her physically more than I’d like. I don’t need to find her interesting as well. Perhaps she isn’t, but I already sense she is.

“What’s your favorite color?” She looks at me through her lashes, playing with her glass, and I’m relieved she found a way to ease the tension. It’s a ridiculous question that single-handedly lightens the situation for both of us. I like that she asked it. Fuck.

“Blue, of course. It’s the best color. From baby blue to indigo.” I play along, content we are finding shallow ground. Shallow. Superficial. Meaningless. That’s where I need to keep us.

“Seriously?” She widens her eyes. How would she react if I said turquoise with a hint of yellow and ten percent of aquamarine, which is Caro’s current favorite color? “Blue is my favorite, too.”

She almost sounds disappointed. Maybe having something—even this trivial—in common is embarrassing. Or I’m reading her wrong.

“What’s your favorite book?” We’ll play twenty questions.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s a simple gesture and perhaps driven by her discomfort, but she executes it with such grace that I stare at the delicate whorl of ear.

“Oh, I have too many.” She shakes her head.

Just like me. “Okay, your favorite author.”

“Jo Nesbo.” She smiles. “You probably haven’t heard of him.”

“Harry Hole is my favorite detective.” I gulp down my wine. So what? We have things in common. Two things actually. And really, blue doesn’t even count. It’s too common. So why am I wishing this was an actual date? Only a part of me wishes that. A tiny part. Insignificant.

“You read Nesbo?” Her eyes glitter with excitement as she stares at me with her mouth open. This is the first time tonight she is all animated. Oh, I want more of that. And of that mouth.

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