Page 25 of Wicked Love
Someone had been making use of the space, though. Stepping inside after him, I found a small table with two chairs, the table draped with a white tablecloth and set with glasses, plates, and napkins.
Beckett bent down by a bar-sized fridge that was plugged in nearby and got out a few different trays of food: one a charcuterie board with sliced meats and cheeses, another with a rainbow spread of different fruits, and a third with three different types of sushi rolls. He laid them out on the table between the plates and poured sparkling lemonade into the glasses.
The tang of the beverage tickled my nose as I stared at the spread, my mouth watering and my mind whirling. “Is this some kind of picnic?”
He chuckled. “You could put it that way. I was hoping you’d have lunch with me.”
He’d gone to an awful lot of preparation to set things up. A pang of affection reverberated through my chest. I cocked my head, unable to keep my curiosity in check. “What would you have done if I hadn’t agreed to come with you after the phone call at the market?”
One corner of Beckett’s mouth curved upward. “I’d have eaten on my own. Wouldn’t want good food to go to waste. It was a gamble worth taking. But I’d rather eat with you, if you’ll stay.”
He pulled out the chair on his side of the table, and I rested my hands on the back of the one for me. Some distant part of my mind suggested that I should still be cautious, that I shouldn’t let myself be convinced, but I couldn’t summon even a particle of real fear about the man standing across from me.
He had a difficult life that he’d made the best of—that he was trying to do good things with. I could respect that. And knowing how much pressure rested on his shoulders, how much power he wielded not just in this city but around the world, made it all the more incredible that he was stepping away from those duties even momentarily to have this moment with me.
It was incredible that hewantedme. Who knew how many women he’d met in his line of work who were tougher and more experienced and more accepting of his career than I was? But I was the one he’d come back to.
Maybe he wanted mebecauseI wasn’t like the people he normally associated with. He’d said something like that before, hadn’t he?
I slid into the chair, my heart thumping faster. I didn’t know exactly what we were doing, but this felt an awful lot like a date. And maybe I was okay with that now.
“Sushi and charcuterie are an interesting combination,” I couldn’t help teasing as I helped myself to a few pieces of both.
Beckett grinned, looking more at ease now that I’d officially joined him. “I happen to be a big fan of both, and I see no issue with indulging in them together. Also, you mentioned to me on one of our dates that you haven’t had fresh sushi in ages and you didn’t care for the grocery store stuff much. This was prepared just a couple of hours ago by my family chef, who spent a few years training in Japan among other places.”
I blinked at him and quickly raised one of the tuna rolls to my mouth to try it. The raw fish melted like butter as I sank my teeth into it, the rice breaking apart but not crumbling, faintly sweet. I gulped it down, my eyes widening. “Wow, that is good. Family chef, huh? One of the perks of your line of work?”
Beckett shrugged, his expression both amused and pleased. “I’ll admit I’m not very handy in the kitchen, and neither is my dad. Having someone like that on staff ensures we stay fed. It’s not an indulgence I’m particularly proud of… other than when I can use it to make a pretty girl happy.”
I raised my eyebrows at the flirty remark. “And how many pretty girls have you had your chef preparing picnics for?”
Beckett’s eyes smoldered. “You’re the first. If I have my way, you’ll be the only.”
A quiver of heat raced over my skin, pooling low in my belly. I had to pop another roll into my mouth to stop myself from drooling—and not only over the food.
“What time is your first afternoon class?” Beckett asked.
I was about to rib him about whether he had even more plans for our time together when a generic ringtone pealed out… from my pocket.
My head jerked down. I stared at my hip for a second, trying to figure out why my phone would be making that unfamiliar sound, and then it clicked.
“It’s the burner,” I said with a hitch of my heart. “The one I used to call the manager at the seafood market.”
Beckett had tensed in his seat. “It’ll be someone involved in this mess,” he said in an urgent tone. “Answer it on speaker phone and see what they have to say.”
I yanked the phone out of my pocket and hit the speaker button as I set the device down on the table between us. “Hello?”
My voice wavered just slightly. I inhaled deep to try to steady myself.
A baritone voice growled from the other end of the line. “I’d like to know who I’m speaking to and what business you had with the Fresh Catch Seafood Market.”
Beckett’s expression tightened even more with a twitch of his jaw. He made a cycling motion with his fingers, indicating that I should talk—and keep this man talking with me.
I groped for the right thing to say that sounded suitably criminal-ish for someone who’d have been making deals and arranging top-secret deliveries. “I could ask the same thing. Who areyou?”
“I asked first, and I don’t like people who play games. Identify yourself.”
I gathered all the false bravado I could. “I don’t see why I should have to. And I can do business with whatever stores I want. It has nothing to do with you.”
