Page 30 of Things We Fake
“Thank you.” The smirk on his face told me he’d done this before to avoid a pat on the balls.
She nodded. “You’re welcome. Your server will be Emilio. He should be here shortly to take your drink orders.” With that, she sashayed back to the coat check, attracting quite an audience as she passed by each table.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to do the same. I could barely walk in my own shoes without wobbling like a drunk flamingo.
I looked around the room, with its pristine, cloth-covered tables set far enough apart to offer its patrons privacy. Each table held a flowered hurricane lamp with a candle inside, set off to one side so as not to impede the diners’ ability to see one another. I’d never been here, but this place screamed expensive. Unlike most restaurants these days where casual and “anything goes” dress code was the norm, these people were dressed up for the occasion.
I glanced down at my dress, then at the other women in the room—polished, tailored, timeless. Tonight, for once, I didn’t feel like the awkward extra in someone else’s movie. I looked like I belonged here. With him.
“If your plan was to impress me, you’ve wildly overshot the mark,” I murmured, reaching for my water.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I figured if I fed you in style, you’d go easier on my software critiques.”
“Oh, I’m very bribable with food as currency.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve only been here a handful of times—special occasions, mostly. Tonight felt like it qualified.”
I tilted my head. “Special occasion because I’m here, or because you’re trying to repair your reputation after porno night?”
His smile turned crooked. “Little bit of both. But mostly because… well, you intrigue me, Susanne Morelli. And that doesn’t happen very often.”
Chapter Ten
Sue
The waiter chose that moment to come to the table. “Good evening. I’m Emilio, your server. Can I interest you in a drink before dinner? Tonight’s cocktail feature is our bartender’s signature Old Fashioned.”
Old Fashioned. Fabulous. My entire aura in a glass.
“I’ll have that. Always a safe bet.” Cam gave me a smile so charming it should come with a warning label.
“Sounds great,” I lied. “I’ll try that, too.”
The waiter nodded and left.
I picked up my menu and gulped. No prices. Either the food was so good it transcended cost, or they didn’t want to scare you out the door before you ordered.
I glanced over the leather-bound folder trying to look unfazed. “Any recommendations? Since you’re clearly the seasoned veteran here.”
Cam leaned back in his chair. “If you like seafood, there’s a special they do on Saturdays. The Land and Sea dinner for two—it’s a bit of a ritual. It’s six courses, they change it up every week, and the portions are generous.”
I raised one eyebrow. “You had me at generous. For a second I thought you might suggest something boring and sensible.”
“Not on a date with you,” he said easily.
Date. He’d called this a date. I had to resist the overwhelming urge to kick off my shoes and perform a spontaneous table dance by the hurricane lamp.
Somehow I kept my voice steady. “Well then, let’s go all in with the lavish feast.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
“I think you mean lower in your anatomy.” Ange told me to flirt. This was flirting, right? Then I heard what I’d said and amended quickly, “I mean your stomach.”
Cam’s grin was unabashed. “I suppose they are connected. I do love a woman who appreciates the finer things in life, like food.”
“I love food—when I’m not wearing it.”
He chuckled. “I do prefer this outfit to the mac-and-cheese-enhanced smock. And the flannel shirt.”
