Page 3 of The Holy Grail
“Uh, very attractive. You two would make beautiful babies.”
Obviously ignoring the baby reference, the redhead shifted the conversation. “Is he wearing normal socks?”
The brunette raised the fork to her mouth. “Yes,” she answered, taking a bite. Then, her mouth partially full, added, “And a tie.”
“A tie?”
“A blue one that matches his eyes. Which means your babies would have beautiful blue eyes—”
“That would probably need corrective eyewear.”
Ouch again.The redhead was brutal, but he found himself kind of digging it.
“His glasses look like basic readers,” the brunette said. “I doubt he wears them all the time.”
“But what if he does?”
“I don’t know.” The brunette shrugged, soaking another bite of sushi in soy sauce before eating it. “What if he does?”
“I’ve never dated anyone who wore glasses all the time. I think it would be weird. You know, during sex and … whatnot.”
“I’m pretty sure people who wear glasses all the time take them off during sex and … whatnot.”
Sex and … whatnot.Yes, this conversation was definitely better than his book. Malcom hadn’t been this entertained in ages—even the less-than-flattering things that were being said about him were entertaining.
The redhead grabbed another piece of shrimp tempura. “Does he have spiked hair with gel in it? Because I really hate that. It’s like trying to run your fingers through a cactus plant.”
“No spiked hair, or hair gel.”
“Manicure?”
Manicure?Malcom glanced down at his hands, with his long, blunt-tipped fingers and tried to imagine getting a manicure, but couldn’t.
“I can’t tell. He has nice hands, though.” The brunette jabbed her fork at the redhead, who looked like she wasn’t done asking questions. “Anything else you need to know aboutthe guy checking you out, you can find out for yourself by doing your own recon. I need to give my Samurai roll some attention.”
That was Malcom’s cue to pretend to be reading once again, which he did, even turning a page to make it look authentic.
After what seemed like five minutes, but was probably closer to thirty seconds, the redhead said, “He’s not bad. He has that distinguished, Clark Kent thing going for him. But he’s probably married, with a couple of kids playing in a soccer league.”
The initial thrill at the Clark Kent comparison (obviously better than being on the douchebag spectrum) dimmed a little at the ‘probably married’ assumption. Did she really think he’d be checking her out if he was married, with children?
Just then the waitress stopped by with the check, pulling his attention from the other table. He took the leather folder with his left hand, which deliberately put his bare ring finger on display, and chuckled when she commented about his choice of ‘light reading’.
After glancing at his bill, he took some cash out of his wallet while she waited. He then put it in the folder and handed it back with a smile. As the waitress turned and left, he heard the redhead talking again.
“So, he appears to be single. And has a nice voice. But it doesn’t matter,” she said dismissively. “He looks like a lawyer. And I don’t do lawyers. Not even extremely hot ones.”
Even though he’d apparently been upgraded from ‘not bad’ to ‘extremely hot’, it was the ‘lawyer’ reference that had the most impact. For a moment he just sat there, her words giving him pause and making him second-guess going over and introducing himself.
Should he, or shouldn’t he?he kept asking himself, before finally deciding he had nothing to lose—and if Brent could do it, so could Malcom. Besides, the physical pull he felt toward the redhead was so strong, he didn’t know if he could just walk past the table without stopping.
Fuck it, he was going over there.Carpefuckingdiem.
He retrieved a business card from his wallet and wrote a short note on the back. Then, standing up, he shrugged into his suit jacket, picked up his book, and started to make his way to their table. Summoning as much self-confidence as he could (and hoping it would be enough), Malcom looked over, making direct eye contact with the redhead for the first time, and saw her expression turn to one of guarded anticipation.
His legs felt a little shaky as he came to a stop in between the two women. Up close, the redhead appeared even more stunning than she had from fifteen feet away, and his heartstarted to beat faster, like he’d sprinted to their table. Her facial features were strong with a sharp jawline and a slightly squared chin. She had a wide mouth with full lips, and a nose that was slightly broad at the tip, and at this close distance he could see a hint of a bump on the bridge, the imperfection actually making her look more perfect. Her eyes were a deep, indigo blue, with dramatic, dark copper eyebrows arching above, and a liberal dusting of freckles on both cheeks that almost made him smile.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Hello,” as he looked from one woman to the other. “I’m Malcom Hodge.”
