This time the smile didn't stay away. He moved his hand to her lower back, a move that shouldn't have set off his pulse like a missile, but with Merina, he was learning nothing about her was expected.
"Your table, Mr. Crane." Tucked into the corner, a cozy table for two stood, a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket.
"Thank you." He pulled out a chair for Merina before unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting down across from her.
"Champagne," she said, her eyes going to the bottle. Her skin was as smooth as porcelain but golden in color in the candlelight.
"Tag's idea, I'm sure," Reese said.
"Your brother?"
"He arranged this evening."
"I thought Bobbie arranged this evening."
"At Tag's request." He didn't want her to have the wrong idea. He didn't come here to seduce her. He flicked his gaze from the necklace that drew his eyes to her breasts. Probably best he remembered that.
An orderly waiter swept in, poured the champagne, and asked if they'd like the chef's selection for the evening. "An array of plates designed to unleash passion and bloom romance."
Jesus.
"Yes, thank you," Reese told him, keeping his internal reaction hidden. The waiter vanished in a puff of efficiency.
"They don't linger here, do they?" Merina cleared her throat, showing the first sign of discomfort when she lifted the champagne flute to her lips. If they were going to make people believe they were in love, they'd have to be together without a buffer.
"One of the draws of Armande. The staff understands diners come here to be left alone." He unfolded his napkin and put it on his lap. "Or rather, left to each other."
Her eyes moved around the room and Reese found he was unwilling to take his eyes off her face. Her makeup was understated, unlike Rebecca's dark eyes and bright lipstick, yet Merina was simply stunning.
"I hear this restaurant is known for its aphrodisiacs," she said. He liked the way her lips pursed when she said aphrodisiacs.
"Chocolate. Watermelon. Oysters. Avocado," he answered.
"Watermelon is an aphrodisiac?" Her expression was bemused.
"If you believe in that sort of thing."
"You don't?" She reached for her champagne again. He thought of her as a force to be reckoned with, yet she had the most delicate hands. Long fingers, blunt nails suggesting she did her own hard work, but feminine as proved by the sheen of pale polish. He found the dichotomy tantalizing. And it hadn't required a single oyster to feel that attraction right down to his bones.
No," he answered. "I don't."
"Well, that's no fun," she said, sipping from her glass. Then her cheeks colored. "I mean, not that I expect…never mind."
What did she think? That he'd brought her here to seduce her and take her back to his room and…best not to chase that thought to its inevitable ending. This romance was for show, not indulgence.
The first course came via one of the waitstaff, who set Merina's plate in front of her, then Reese's in front of him. "Pan-seared mochi with avocado and a yuzu sesame dressing," the waiter announced.
"Wow. This is adorable," Merina said, staring down at the single block of mochi and small square of avocado sitting on the center of a gold-edged white plate.
"Good too." He lifted a pair of chopsticks from the table and ate it in one bite. After watching him, she did the same. He sipped his champagne and enjoyed the show. He liked her mouth. Liked her appetite. For business and for food.
After she swallowed and dabbed her mouth, he filled her champagne glass, figuring the more of it they drink, the better. This was beyond awkward for two people who didn't know each other.
"Did you know you have a hashtag?" she asked, licking her lips after another sip.
"Not you too," he said, his tone dry.
She gave him a flirty smile.
"I know I have a hashtag," he muttered, refilling his own glass and placing the bottle in the ice bucket.
"Do you know who started it?" she asked.
"I have a good idea."
"Well, at least it's flattering."
"If you find objectification flattering," he challenged. "Would you like it if someone gave a hashtag to your…" He gestured to her chest.
She tilted her head in thought rather than offense. "Hmm. Fair point. I thought men liked to be told how large their penises are."
A smile tickled the side of his mouth. Leave it to Merina to use the word penises as casually as she'd used the word horseshit.
"See? You do like it."
"I'm attached to it."
Her eyes brightened, and he felt a charge of pride in drawing forth the reaction. Then she laughed, just a small one, and that was even better. The women he normally dated were with him because of who he was, so getting them to laugh—charming them—wasn't a challenge. But Merina was with him in spite of who he was, so getting that reaction from her was genuinely rewarding.
"You have a lighter side," she said. "Who knew?"
"Don't tell anyone. You'll ruin my reputation." The air between them was warm and alive. He could continue this for a while longer.
But then her eyes went to Rebecca and her date being seated at a small table in the middle of the restaurant and her smile faded. A disapproving grunt sounded from her throat.
"That woman," she said, turning back to him. "Friend of yours?"
"No." His friends were business colleagues, and even then "friends" wasn't the right term for who they were. The women he dated, well, the only friendly thing between them was the way they parted after both parties received what they needed.
"But you did sleep with her," Merina blurted.
"I don't sleep with my friends."
"Only strangers?" She rested her glass on the white tablecloth.
That warm attraction between them didn't fizzle out, but burned hot. She wanted to play hardball? He could do that.
"Who do you sleep with, Merina?"
"Excuse me?" Dark rose colored her cheekbones.
"You brought it up." He leaned forward. "Just making conversation.