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Hope set down the flower, the petals a shocking splash of red against the white tablecloth. Rafe had a sudden idea of what to do with the stem.
Myrna extended a high-end tablet toward Rafe. “May I get you a drink? Or would you like a minute to settle in?”
He glanced at Hope. “Any preference? Wine? Champagne?”
“Champagne?” Her eyes widened. “Do you mean it?”
“They have it by the glass.”
“In that case, yes.”
He swiped his finger across the screen a couple of times, not stopping until he reached the sparkling wine section. After scanning the list, he offered a recommendation.
She smiled. “Sounds wonderful.”
“Two glasses,” he told Myrna.
“My pleasure.” She conveyed the order to the server whom she introduced.
“They know you here,” Hope mentioned when they were alone, a basket of yeasty rolls on the table between them. “Is it a favorite place to bring dates?”
“Fishing for information, Ms. Malloy?” The thought pleased him.
“I thought it might be something I could tell the candidates about you.”
He shook off his sudden annoyance. Was she trying to prick his ego? “I come here because the food is superlative, and it’s not at one of my hotels so I can relax more, away from business. Besides, if I took out a lot of women, my mother wouldn’t have needed to hire you.”
The server returned with the wine, then left again when Rafe said they needed a few minutes of privacy.
“To a fruitful partnership.” He raised his glass.
She clinked hers against his rim, then took a delicate sip. “Oh wow.” Then she went quiet for a moment. “Oh, my God. Yum.”
“Glad you approve.” She didn’t hide her pleasure, and he savored her reactions. “How’s your pussy?”
“What?” Over the top of her flute, she cast him a glare that would have castrated a lesser man. “You can’t talk like that in public.”
Rafe was intent on doing far more than that. “I’ll give you that orgasm now if you want.”
“What?” She checked to see if anyone had heard his outrageous suggestion. Her drink sloshed as she slid the glass onto the table.
“You said you didn’t want orgasm denial anymore.”
“I didn’t say I wanted public ones!”
He picked up the breadbasket and offered it to her. “Roll?”
“You’re impossible, Mr. Sterling.”
“So I’ve been told.”
With the focus of a gemologist cutting a diamond, she selected the roll with the crispiest crust. He watched her butter it, then take a bite. She closed her eyes and made a sound of satisfaction. Sharing this made him realize how empty dining alone every night was.
While waiting to order, she turned their discussion toward the women she’d been interviewing for him. His patience snapped. He didn’t want to think about the perfect Miss Texas runner-up or a blonde doctor or anyone else. “Mind if we save that conversation for business hours?”
She inhaled. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
“You.”
“Why? You’re the client. One of Houston’s most eligible bachelors.”
“Who is having dinner with a seductive woman who I want to submit to me.” When the thought had first formed, he’d meant for the remainder of this evening. But the idea of stretching it for a longer period interested him. There were a million things she might enjoy, and he didn’t want another Dom to be her instructor. “Let’s start with your name. Does it have any significance?”
She pressed her lips together and stared into her glass.
The fact she’d avoided the question surprised him. “Was that too personal?”
“Not many people ask.” A few seconds later, she dragged the wine toward her and kept hold of the stem. “My dad was in the army.”
“Was?”
Rather than give him a direct answer, she responded with, “I was born while he was deployed, and…my mother couldn’t get hold of him to let him know she was in labor. Of course, she was nervous, but she refused to think anything but positive thoughts.” She gave a half smile that was heavy with grief and touched with bravery. “He didn’t make it home alive. He never met me.”
