"Just because we’ve broken bread together doesn't mean I'm going to tell you all my trade secrets." East said as he laughed.
"I figure if we’ve nearly shagged in the grass I’m deserving of your secrets."
He laughed once more, that dark rich laugh that raised my temperature and shot tingles of awareness through my system. Then, of course, it drew my attention to his Adam's apple, and then up along his jaw, and to his lips.
Stop looking at his lips. You can't look at his lips. You cannot trust him.
I snapped my gaze to his eyes then. His eyes were safer. But then he turned his attention to me and narrowed his gaze. "PS, I caught you looking."
I rolled my eyes. "You caught nothing."
He lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "If you say so. I know I'm very nice to look at."
"My God, you are such an arsehole."
"You know, it’s strange. I've been told that before."
"Again, I'm not shocked." I wiped my hand on my napkin. “Fine, if you won’t tell me how you’ve been playing peep show with me, what were you were doing when I ran into you at the party?”
His grin was sly, and he asked, “How are your appetizers?”
“No you don’t. Don’t you dare change the subject.”
He chuckled. “Okay. I’ll tell you. But you tell me first.”
“Not a chance.”
“I guess we’ll both have to live with the curiosity.”
“Just tell me. You know you want to.”
“Go ahead and admit it, Nyla… I’m not so bad.”
He’s not. “Yes, you are. You know what? I’ll tell you something you want to know if you’ll admit the secret society really exists.”
More laughter. God, he was just full of laughs, wasn’t he? “Why are you so obsessed with the secret society?" He used air quotes when he said the last two words.
"Call it a hunch, but I know something is not right. This would all go faster if you tell me what it is."
"I'm telling you the London Lords are three businessmen running hotels. That's all."
"Uh-huh. And I'm an Amish virgin."
His gaze flicked over my body as if to call out the lie with an unspoken 'the hell you are.' But instead, his voice was low when he said, "Well now, that would be a damn shame."
I shrugged. "I had a case when I was in the US. Nasty stuff. Crazy international crime ring. It was quite exciting actually. An Amish gang had paired themselves with an Irish gang to sell guns and other weapons."
He whistled low. "You know, it's no wonder you have no faith in humanity. The kind of things you see, I can only imagine."
"That would be accurate. My faith right now is a little derailed."
"Well hopefully, I’ll restore some of your faith in my abilities by finding you delicious restaurants."
"Yeah, what is this place exactly?"
“I call it ‘The Hiding Spot.’”
"Is that its real name?"
Another flash of his grin and I was pretty sure my panties were in that melted category. "The restaurants and the decor in the hotels are my purview. So whenever we come across some new and fresh chef that we want to try out, I put them back in the kitchens here."
"So this is a restaurant?"
"Yes. Actually, it’s more of a proving ground. He does this British comfort thing. You should eat his chocolate pie. It's honestly complete insanity. It made me want to slap my nanny."
I choked a laugh then. "Of course, you had a nanny."
He winked at me. "Didn't everyone?"
I laughed. “No. The rest of us are mere mortals.”
His phone rang, and he glanced down at it. "Um, would you be all right if I just step in one of the back rooms and take this call?"
I nodded. "Actually, can I get another plate of this?"
He signaled to our bartender/waiter who gave a nod and winked at me. And then he was gone around the corner. And for the first time all day, I felt like I could take a deep breath. God, that nervous energy being around him felt like first-date jitters. Butterflies in the tummy. Anticipation dancing and skipping and jumping all over my skin and my nerve endings.
See? You do like him.
No, I did not.
All of a sudden, someone slid into the seat across from me as the bartender brought me another plate. "Here you go, miss."
He nodded to the man sitting across from me then. "Mate, I'm not serving you anymore. Three drinks, maximum. It's how the boss likes it."
"Just give me my fucking drink."
I slid my gaze over. "That seat is taken."
The man that turned his gaze back on me was handsome in that sort of overly polished sort of bland way. Neatly trimmed hair, pale blue eyes, decent jaw. But something about the roundness of it suggested that there would be softness there in the future.
"Well aren’t you a pretty thing? Been left all alone, have you?"
He smelled like gin and poor decisions.
"Listen, I just want to enjoy my food and drink. That's all."
"Well, in that case, you're going to enjoy my company too."
"No, I'm really not. That seat is taken, and I advise that you vacate it before my companion realizes you've plopped yourself in it."
"Now, now, I'm just being friendly. Why is it you can't accept a friendly chat?” He leaned forward over the table. “What is wrong with women these days? Either you chat to a woman and she thinks you're ready for fucking marriage and kids, or you chat to a woman and she's a complete cunt that thinks she's God's gift.” The sour liquor smell hit me in the face as he wagged a finger back and forth. “You're not God's gift. You're not even pretty. I'm merely bored and trying to get the fucking bartender to serve me another drink."
"Fabulous. In that case, you won't
