"After three months, do you doubt it?"
"That depends on what you mean. I think you do know a lot about me, but I am not sure you know me. " Her mom would have known to order this appetizer, too, but that didn't mean she knew what made her tick. As far as she could tell, Ash's mom had no desire to know her on any level but the surface.
She couldn't stifle the hope that Nikos would be different.
"Is there a distinction between the two?"
"Yes."
"If tonight goes as I plan, I will have a great deal of time to learn what you mean."
"And how do you plan for tonight to go?" Was he finally going to make love to her? Was she ready for it?
She almost laughed aloud at her inner voice. Ready? She was desperate for him. She'd already decided she wanted him, but the possibility of actually having him was throwing her into mental chaos. Which was silly. She wanted this man and while she had no intention of telling him that at this very moment, she would not lie to herself and pretend differently. She refused to indulge in those kinds of games.
"Allow me to reveal my plans in sequence."
She should have guessed he had an agenda of some sort. It was so like him. It was one of the more disconcerting ways he reminded her of her mother. She didn't dislike it exactly, but it worried her a little. Were his agendas as coldly determined as her mother's?
"By all means, I wouldn't think of attempting to divert your schedule."
He took a sip of wine, his dark eyes filled with mock menace. "Are you laughing at me?"
"Maybe, a little. Spontaneity is not your thing."
"You know me well."
"As well as can be expected after dating three months."
"Well enough." There was meaning behind his words, but she wasn't sure what it was.
"Aren't you going to have any of the shrimp?" she asked.
"I suppose, but the real pleasure comes from watching you eat them."
She had just taken a bite and her eyes closed in bliss.Divine. "To each their own."
He laughed. "I assure you, I am very happy with my own appetizer."
They were sharing the shrimp and he wasn't eating any, so it took her a second to understand his meaning. When she did, her eyes flew open. He was looking at her with a distinctly predatory light in eyes that had grown dangerously dark.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid pulse that was making her light-headed. Oh, my. When this man went for it, he held nothing back. She could not wait for later. Tonight, he would not leave her with a good-night kiss that made her toes curl and her body feel hollow with wanting. Not with that look in his eyes.
The appetizer was followed by butternut squash soup. She'd never had it at this particular restaurant before. "The chef must be trying something new."
"At my request."
"You did preorder the meal."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Tonight is special, I want every aspect to be right."
"Special?"
"Yes."
"I like the sound of that." She smiled and took a bite of the soup he'd had one of the most temperamental chefs in Boston make just for her. "It's delicious."
"I would expect no less."
"I'm surprised you talked the chef into trying something new for your benefit alone."
"Money speaks most languages."
"Even that of a temperamental chef?"
"As you see." He indicated their twin bowls of the golden-orange soup. "But he did not make the soup for my benefit."
"No?"
"No. He made it for yours."
"At your request."
"Yes."
"Because tonight is special."
"Very."
She didn't know what else she would have said because at that moment, two things happened that derailed any thoughts of talking on her part. The first was that a trio of violinists took up residence in a spot near them that had on the last occasion they'd eaten there held a table of other diners. The musicians began to play a piece she had always found emotionally evocative and soothing at the same time.