Page 98 of Just Trouble

She flicks a look up at me, one that is all mischief, one that sets me on fire. I realize then that her ability to drive me wild is never going to change or diminish.

“I did have hopes for a private celebration afterward,” she confesses in a whisper that makes me want to forget dinner completely.

I slide my arm around her waist, inhaling the scent of her perfume. “You mean this is for me?”

She laughs. “Someone once told me that if you want a specific outcome, you have to be prepared to influence results.”

A lot more than results are influenced by this reminder. I’m guessing that the gorgeous dress isn’t the sum of it, nor even the intoxicating perfume, the way that her nape is bare, the perfect pale lipstick. No, she’s chosen some lingerie to rock my world, and I can’t wait to peel her out of it. In that very moment, she moves and my hand lands on the back of her waist. My thumb discovers a lot of bare skin and it’s like a jolt of white lightning to realize that her dress is backless. Before I can think of a polite (comparatively public) way to proceed, her hands are on my chest and she’s leaning close.

“I thought you were going to leave after tonight,” she whispers.

“Not a chance.” There’s no place in the world for me other than Empire, and that’s because Daph is here. I can see that Ineed to convince her of that. “I’m staying right here,” I vow and her eyes darken.

“Did hell freeze over and I missed it?”

“No. I changed my mind.” I lean closer. “Knowing you changed my mind.”

“Oh, Luke,” she whispers, leaning against me and giving me a kiss that almost makes me forget where we are. There’s even an evil little flick of her tongue, one that would send my thoughts straight to the gutter if they weren’t already there. Then she looks up at me, eyes dancing. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood. I promise to make it up to you.” And then her hand is in my hair and her mouth is on mine and there is nothing in my universe but the sweetness of Daphne Bradshaw.

I am butter in her hands, in case you aren’t sure.

Until Rafe clears his throat pointedly. “Are we going to sit down, or do you two need a room first?”

“That’ll have to wait,” I say smoothly, keeping my arm around Daph’s waist. “Daph’s starving.” She laughs but her eyes are dark, the way they get when she’s aroused, which is the most distracting sight possible. But Rafe gestures to the bench against the wall, indicating that Daph and I should sit together there, and that suits me just fine. I like having her next to me and she must like it, too, because she presses her thigh against mine.

We’ll have to talk later about how she imagined this wasn’t a date, because it was obvious to me all along. Maybe my communication skills aren’t what they used to be.

It doesn’t matter. All is right in my world, for the moment.

Mackenzie joins us then, and it appears that she’s been fixed up with Rafe. Okay, I’m good with that. She looks wonderful in a little black dress, her long blond hair loose over her shoulders. Simple and elegant.

I prefer the elegant lady beside me, hands down.

I’m surprised to discover that it’s easy to talk with Rafe. He’s entertaining, charming, delighted about every morsel we’re served, and asks just the right number of questions. He and Daph, it seems, have a tradition of sharing food, and the two of them divide and conquer the menu so that no duplicates with be served to our table. Mackenzie and I just sit back and do as we’re told. We’re going to try it all, and Sylvia brings extra cutlery in anticipation.

I don’t miss Patrick’s arrival at the door, though I don’t acknowledge it. I hear Daph take a quick breath, but she pretends it doesn’t matter either. Sylvia seems to get it, as she seats his party on the other side of the bistro, at the furthest possible point from us.

Of course, he’s here. He thinks it’s his town and he doesn’t miss a thing. I notice that he’s with his second wife, the one he married when my mom was pregnant, and the two kids from that happy union. Daph’s hand touches my thigh in a silent sign of support that I appreciate. I give her fingers a quick squeeze, letting her know that I’m okay.

We talk about Toronto, about Empire, about the wine Sylvia has suggested. (It’s from Rhodes Vineyards and is outstanding.) Mackenzie explains more about the vineyard as Rafe asks her good questions. Rafe admires the bistro and demands the story, so I let Daph tell it while I watch them both. He laughs in the right places and razzes me about being fearless after Daph shows him the before pictures of the diner on her phone.

Okay, so maybe I don’t hate him.

Maybe I could even like him.

The vibe between the two of them is so mellow that they could be siblings. There’s no sexual tension and I wonder how I missed that.

Testosterone, alas, is not always a friend.

The starters come and Rafe whips out his phone.

“Yes, he is that person,” Daph whispers with affection and he grins, even as Mackenzie looks on with indulgence.

Rafe and I find ourselves in violent agreement about the curried lentil soup and the spring rolls, and share a lack of enthusiasm for the arugula salad with roasted figs and crumbled chèvre—which Daph loves. Mackenzie is a fan of dumplings she’s ordered and I see Phil’s influence in the mix of ingredients. Merrie has taken inspiration from his filling combinations and his mad skills in folding dumplings, and made them her own.

For the mains, I’ve chosen the tortellini with butternut squash and a cream sauce, while Daph has gone traditional with grilled lamb chops, gratin and grilled spring vegetables. The asparagus is in season, and Merrie has made the most of it, rubbing it with olive oil and salt then grilling it. I have some as a garnish on my plate and it’s included in Daph’s vegetables.

Rafe has chosen the mock porchetta with risotto, which looks and smells so terrific that I could consider eating meat again. Mackenzie has a stuffed supreme of chicken on a bed of all rice that is absolutely great. (Her asparagus is inside the chicken breast with some cheese.) Their sharing tradition makes a lot of sense and also breaks the ice—by the time the mains are done, we’ve ordered a second bottle of wine and are chatting like we’ve known each other forever.

---