Page 10 of All Hale the Queen

“I am. Were you with Remi?”

“Aye, but now I’m in a broom cupboard, and I have no idea why.”

Her laugh is life-affirming. “Oh my. That makes this feel so clandestine.” There’s a hint of flirtiness in her tone that instantly shoots straight to my groin. I lean back against the door and adjust my thickening cock.

“It’s like I’m sneaking around behind my parents’ backs to talk to my crush on the phone,” I admit, and then instantly kick myself. Did I really just say “crush” like I’m a fecking sixteen-year old?

But the playfulness in Ophelia’s voice brushes away any concerns. “Do you have a crush on me, Antonio?”

“I’m a man, Ophelia. I’d have to be dead or blind to not be attracted to you.” Yep, I went there. I heard the tease in her tone, and I goddamn well went there.

“That’s good to know. And for the record, the feeling is mutual.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.I did not expect that. “We’ll just file that under things I’ll remember until my dying day,” I reply, earning another of her laughs.

“Now that we’ve discussed our mutual admiration, I wanted to let you know I had your suit and shirt dry cleaned.”

The high I’d been riding on falls a couple levels. She’s only calling about my suit. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“I could send it with Remi,” she suggests, and my shoulders slump in disappointment. “Or…”

That two-letter work has me perking right up. “Or what?”

“Or I have some chicken breasts and thighs marinating, and I was planning to make an Italian braised chicken dish tonight.” Her voice is slightly more hesitant now. “If you wanted to come pick up your suit from my house, I thought maybe you would want to stay for dinner. You know, since you’ll be here anyway.”

“I’ll be there. Just tell me what time.” I don’t give a shite if I sound overeager. Ophelia Hale just invited me to dinner, and I’m giddy as a damn schoolboy.

***

She opens the front door, and I have to press my feet hard against the porch to keep from falling back a few steps. Ophelia blows me away with her beauty, even dressed casually in a lavender blouse and slim-fitting jeans.

“Antonio,” she says brightly as if she’s as happy to see me as I am to see her.

“Evenin’, Ophelia.”

Her eyes drop to the item in my right hand, and she beams. “You brought me orchids?”

“It seems I heard somewhere that they’re your favorites.” I hand them over, and she dips her nose to smell them.

“They are. Thank you.” She steps back, and I enter her foyer, feeling the warmth and comfort of her home surround me.

“I brought a pinot grigio to go with the chicken,” I tell her, holding up the bottle with my left hand.

“Perfect,” she says, waving me toward the kitchen where the scent of rosemary greets me. I place the wine on the countertop as she locates a vase for the flowers, arranging them beautifully with little effort.

“Would you like to taste the wine to see if you like it?” I ask, and she picks up the bottle, inspecting it.

Surprise registers when she lifts her sparkling brown eyes to mine. “That’s not necessary. This is one of my favorites. Did Remi tell you that too?”

I chuckle. “No. This brand is actually one of my favorites as well. Now the flowers? I completely stole that information from him. I remember overhearing when he ordered orchids for your birthday last year.”

A faint rosy shade floods her cheeks. “That was sweet of you to remember.” She hands over the bottle. “Would you mind opening that while I take the flowers to the dining room?”

I do, and she returns a moment later, taking two glasses from the clear cabinet beside the sink.

A few minutes later, we’re seated beside each other on one end of the long dining table. The sky-blue orchids pop against the dark wood furnishings, and two long tapered candles add a romantic ambience to the room. Did she do that on purpose?

I do my best not to shovel chicken and rosemary roasted vegetables into my mouth like an animal. “This is absolutely delicious,” I say, politely cutting a reasonably sized bite and eating it from my fork. “You’re a fantastic cook, Ophelia.”