Page 77 of Crossing the Line
Date Night
Paisley Grove
It’s Wednesday. I should have called Hercules at some point during the day, but I didn’t. I’ve chosen to let sleeping dogs lie. However, I really want to give him a piece of my mind for just casting me aside as if I never meant anything to him. I’m so glad I held my ground and resisted. I would feel more like a fool if I’d had sex with him at any point during our past three dates.
Regardless, I spent all day going through software that I made in the past, trying to get a feel for coding again. It was like riding a bike. I edited old software to make the applications better. I split scripts from existing software and combined them to create something new. I also found the app Hercules and I created in high school. I didn’t open it. I merely looked at the front page and then closed it. I couldn’t be reminded of him. Plus, I had to get ready for my date with Clive. Somehow, I found the desire to dress myself, put on a mild amount of makeup, and talk myself into having the right attitude about seeing new people.
“You look beautiful,” Clive says as he drives us in his smooth luxury car. He keeps his eyes ahead.
I smile cordially. “Thanks.”
I really didn’t try to look attractive tonight. I’m wearing a plain black dress with black pumps and a black cardigan. I’ll concede that I look like I’m going to a funeral, not to dinner. I take the opportunity to study him, knowing that traffic is too thick for him to take his eyes off the road. Clive is handsome. I guess that’s a plus. Even though Hercules is a stunning Adonis of a man, good looks have never been a prerequisite for me when it comes to being attracted to a man. For me, a man has to have a certainje ne sais quoi. And Hercules has it. The way he’s able to command, entice, hold, and release at his will with just one look is a quality I’ve always found powerful and sexy. The way Hercules pinned my arms above my head to kiss me, taste, and claim me—I don’t ever see Clive doing that.
Why did I say yes to him?If he’s a good guy, then I probably should have said no. I don’t want to ruin him. I don’t want to make him feel jaded because the woman he likes is into another man.
“Have you ever been to the St. Regis for dinner?” he asks, glancing away from steadily moving traffic.
Pressing my lips to keep myself from sporadically whimpering in despair, I shake my head, and then finally, I’m able to say, “Um, no.”
Clive smiles proudly. “Great. I know you’re a Grove, and you can buy anything you want in the world. But I want to show how much I like you.”
That’s an interesting thing to say. “Is the St. Regis expensive?”
“Yeah, very,” he proudly claims.
“And why do you like me so much?”
My second question seems to catch him off guard. He whips his eyes toward me and then pays attention to the road as he makes a right into a porte cochere. His mouth is puckered like he’s still pondering as he stops in front of the valet station. He rolls his window down. Clive gives the young valet instructions on how to handle his car with care. I arrive at the conclusion that he’s not going to answer my question.
* * *
The restaurant remindsme of a museum depicting the height of Roman opulence. After the waitress seats us at a table for two, Clive looks proud of himself for bringing me to this den of indulgence. All I can think is that Hercules would’ve never brought me here.
But to be fair, I don’t think Hercules would be on my mind if Clive wasn’t talking about him. He says he doesn’t care for any of the Lord brothers, including Hercules, because they’re cocky and don’t believe the rules apply to them.
I want to say, “I’m sorry, but have you met my brother?” But I say nothing, believing a nonresponse will make him stop. It doesn’t.
“And that girl Hercules is marrying—she’s gorgeous. But I guess one isn’t good enough. And they’re dirty in business, so… you dodged a bullet.”
The waiter sets the Gulf shrimp in front of me and the lamb chops in front of him. I dig in. While eating, I realize something. Clive has been doing most of the talking so far.
At this very moment, he’s talking about his law firm and how fast he’s moving up the ranks. Then he describes different cases he’s argued and asks whether I’ve heard of any of them.
“Never heard of it,” I reply to each.
Well, they’re all apparently very important, which proves he has the juice to be GIT’s sole counsel. Very quickly, Clive is reminding me why I rarely go on dates.
When is he going to ask me something about myself, especially since he likes me so much? But listening more than talking is the best tool to really get to know an individual—and I want to know if Clive has what it takes to replace Hercules. So I don’t remind him that a proper conversation involves two people and not just him.
His smile shows that if he’s not impressing me, then he’s definitely impressing himself. “Oh, and I own a vineyard in Napa. April’s the best time to go. I wouldn’t mind flying out this weekend with you. That’s if you have no plans.”
His eyebrows are up. Finally, he’s waiting for me to say something. And oddly, I have to think about it. It would be great to get away for the weekend that Hercules and Lauren will be officially married. But another thought comes to mind—a solution perhaps.
“Sorry, I’ll be out of the country.”
He raises his eyebrows higher. “Where are you going?” He sounds sort of unfiltered and disappointed.
“Botswana. I’m going to stay with my grandmother for a while.”
