"Then why are you so hell Bent on figuring it out. Why not just let Alisha live her life and stay out of it?"
"It's like you don't know me at all," Russell sniffed. "Because I'm helping—just, you know, in a behind-the-scenes, puppet master kind of way. What's the name of that cute guy in your office that I wanted to fix Alisha up with?"
"Mark?" Adam asked, struggling to follow Russell's train of thought.
"Yes! Perfect," Russell exclaimed, clasping his hands together.
"Oh, no—I know that look. What are you up to?" Adam asked hesitantly.
"I'm merely collecting information and testing a few theories. Just follow along at dinner."
The large dining room table was impeccably and ornately decorated and large dishes of food spanned nearly every inch of available surface. Everyone took a seat and raised a glass in toast of the holiday. Alisha saved Big, who was seated across from her, for last. He shot her a sexy little smirk before tapping his glass to hers. "Let's eat," she announced, averting his gaze as warmth surged to her cheeks. It was really proving difficult to keep their—whatever—a secret.
Conversation and laughter flowed around the table as they ate, and Maggie was remarkably more relaxed since she'd told James that she loved him. Her happiness multiplied when he told her he felt the same. She felt a tiny bit guilty for rushing off like that and leaving Alisha in charge of fixing the rest of the meal. But, she and James had gotten a little carried away after their verbal I love you exchange with some physical expression and they'd lost track of time. She leaned over to Alisha. "Thanks for getting everything finished. I'm really sorry about abandoning you."
Alisha grinned knowingly back at her friend. "No, you're not. And I wouldn't be either if I was in your shoes. I'm really happy for you, Fabs."
"Thanks, Lisha. I still can't believe it," she whispered, the bright as sunshine smile lighting up her pretty face.
She felt Big's foot nudging hers under the table. When she glanced up, she found him fully engaged in a conversation with Adam about the Giants. At first, she thought it had been an accident, but when his foot travelled higher up her leg, she should've known that he'd try and mess with her for his own amusement. Well, two could play that game. Slipping out of her shoes, she trailed a bare foot up his jean covered leg until her toes nestled against his crotch. Wiggling them gently, she lifted her fork to her lips and took a big bite of mashed potatoes, her eyes dancing playfully when he looked lazily over at her and arched a brow in warning. They really weren't very good at being inconspicuous today.
"Alisha, darling," Russell began, noticing the way her head snapped to his quickly like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He quelled the urge to grin.
"Yes, Russell?"
"Adam has this friend at work, Mark, and we—"
"You," Adam corrected pointedly, wanting to stay the hell out of it.
Russell stared indolently at his partner and then back at Alisha. "As I was saying, I think Mark would be perfect for you. Why don't we set that up?"
"Oh, that's—that's sweet, Russell, but no thank you," she said, trying to be polite.
"Come on," Russell prodded, sparing a glance at Big, who was leaning back in his chair, seemingly amused by the whole situation. "I showed him your picture and he's very interested in meeting you."
"Well, bully for Mark," Alisha said sarcastically, spearing the green beans forcefully with the tines of her fork. She was uncomfortable, to say the least. Big was watching her interestedly across the table, his lips twisting into a wry smirk; Russell's eyes were boring intensely into the side of her head. Then Maggie joined in the mix.
"What are we talking about?" she inquired curiously.
"I'm trying to set up Alisha with a guy that works with Adam. His name is Mark; he's 27, super gorgeous, smart, funny, athletic, looks great in a suit and he has season tickets to both the opera and the Giants."
"Alisha, he sounds perfect," Maggie said. "You should give him your number."
"No, I'm good. Thanks," Alisha begged off.
"Do you have a picture?" Maggie asked Russell. "Maybe a picture would help."
"Mmm hmm," he hummed, grabbing his camera and flipping through his photos. "No, no, no. Oh, here we go. Met him at happy hour last week."
Alisha grudgingly took the camera and looked at the photo. He was a cute guy—seemingly tall, nicely built, crystal blue eyes and light brown hair that was just shaggy enough to be considered fashionable and not unkempt. "Not bad," she shrugged, not daring to look at Big for fear of giving them away.
"Need your eyes checked, Alisha? He's a little hottie," Maggie exclaimed. "Do it. Go out with him."
"Yes, Alisha, go out with him," Russell chimed in, noting that Big was beginning to look a little perturbed.
"I'll think about it," Alisha snapped, inwardly wincing the moment the words were past her lips. "Can we just table this for now? It's Thanksgiving."
"Hmm, fair enough," Russell said, pleased as punch, this time catching the muscles in Big's jaw tightening as he stabbed a piece of turkey harder than was necessary. Excellent. Mentally, he rubbed his hands together in a Mr. Burns-like fashion.
Alisha and Maggie were putting the kitchen back to rights after the meal when Big called out from the living room, "Yo, Larrington, your Colts are about to start playing."
"Alisha, I've got this," Maggie said, snatching the dishtowel from her hands. "I know you want to watch the game, so just go. I owe you for finishing up dinner."
Her eyes lit up and smiled gratefully at
