“Nothing,” she smirked, “Mr. Sex Toy Big Shot.”
“Hey, it’s getting pretty dark.”
The abrupt change in subject had her blinking and cocking her head. “It does that at night.”
“My point,” he continued, flatly ignoring her sarcasm, “is that you shouldn’t be walking home alone after dark. It’s dangerous.”
She chuckled. “I’ve managed just fine this far.”
“I know you’re a strong, independent woman who can take care of herself—” She shoved him on the shoulder, and he smothered a smile. “But it would make me feel very manly and important if you’d let me walk you home.”
In truth, it was getting dark, and though she’d been in Santa Monica for over a year, walking around town by herself after sunset still made her anxious. Loads of women did it all the time, but she’d grown up in Baxter. If you were caught out after dark, the sheriff offered you a ride home because he knew your family.
Still, she hesitated. “If you live in Ocean Park, the store is out of your way.”
“It’s not that far,” he insisted. The Ferris Wheel jerked to a stop as the people in the gondolas below them disembarked. “Besides, I could use the exercise.”
She slid her gaze over him, exaggerating her frown.
“Hey. I try to get in at least ten thousand steps a day.”
“That sounds exhausting,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for you.”
The Ferris Wheel rotated a few feet and stopped again, their gondola swaying.
“I have to do something to maintain my figure, or else stunning young retail workers like you won’t go out with me.” Even in the moonlight, his intriguing eyes twinkled with mischief.
“That would be a shame. Who do you have lined up for Saturday night? One of the sales girls at Venus Envy?” It was a joke, but inside her niggled an awareness that his job was to go from one adult toy store to the next trying to sell his products. Flirting with the sales associates to encourage rapport wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Before she could examine the flare of jealousy that stoked her belly, he snorted. “Believe it or not, I don’t typically mix business with pleasure.”
The adage took on a whole new meaning when applied to the situation they’d gotten themselves into. She thought for a second about making some kind of dirty joke. Nothing egregious, but something pithy that would make him laugh and want to touch her, even just to nudge her shoulder in reaction. Before a sentence could form, he lifted his hand to her face. His fingers cupped her jaw and the pad of his thumb traced her cheekbone. She tilted toward him, lips parted for the kiss that would surely come. She couldn’t kiss him, but he could kiss her. He could break that rule.
The Wheel jerked to a stop, this time with them at the bottom, and Des pulled his hand away. She shook herself, exhaling to expel the tingles that had built up in her lips.
The college student manning the ride unlocked the gate to their gondola. She cast him a distracted smile and a thank you as Des climbed out and offered his hand for her balance.
“There’s no need for you to walk me home.” Though she thoroughly enjoyed spending time with him, being this close to him in a non-work setting was making her head spin. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but if she had any hope of surviving their not-a-date without developing something more than a hopeless schoolgirl crush on him, she needed to get her head on straight. She couldn’t do that when he was so close, the warmth of his skin teased hers into a shiver.
He hesitated, his bright gaze scanning her face. She didn’t know what he found there, but he gave her a soft smile and nodded. “At least let me get you an Uber.” He led her to the gates of Pacific Park, and down the dock, where traffic clogged the road.
“It’s not necessary,” she insisted.
“I know. But it would make me feel better. I’d be terribly put out if you had to cancel tomorrow because you got mugged.”
In spite of herself, she laughed. “You’re right. That would be tragic.”
The Uber he ordered was already parked twenty feet away. He ushered her into it, and closed the door gently behind her. She rolled down her window, peering up at him as he straightened and stepped back.
“You have a good night, Cami. And get your rest for tomorrow.” He smiled, and something in the curve of his lip felt like a promise. “You’re going to need it.”
10
Des closed his fingers around the vodka tonic in front of him, and sipped it while the waitress laid a scotch at the empty place setting across from him. She was a little slip of a girl with a thin nose and close-cropped red hair, barely old enough to serve alcohol. He raised his drink to her in thanks before she flushed and scurried away.
The restaurant was oddly empty that afternoon. Despite it being the awkward period between lunch and dinner, Les Retrouvailles was usually close to full. As one of the highest rated and priciest French restaurants in the LA area, it was situated in Beverly Grove, far enough out that people near the beach didn’t mind the traffic, and close enough to downtown LA to pull in the big shots. The vibe was a little much for Des’s taste, but his business partner enjoyed it to the point it bordered on obsession.
Gabriel Sanz was a well-dressed and perpetually single Puerto Rican man in his mid-forties. He spotted Des almost as soon as he stepped into Les Retrouvailles, a crooked grin on Gabriel’s face. He lifted a hand in a wave, but stopped to let the maitre’d take his sports jacket before weaving through the tablesto Des. As he lowered into the chair across from Des, he raked a hand through his thick, black hair, graying a bit at the temples.
