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Mason leans in so his lips are just a breath from mine. “It isn’t this limousine that’s going to be catching people’s attention. Not with you looking so stunning, sweetheart.” Then, he presses his lips to mine, and I close my eyes and wind my arms around his shoulders before melting into that broad chest. He groans, kissing me deeper.
The limo arrives at the destination, and reluctantly, we disentangle ourselves. Then, the valet pulls open the door and Mason scowls at the young man, angry to be interrupted.
“It’s fine,” I whisper with another giggle while covering my mouth. “We’re here for the food, remember?”
Mason turns to me, and pulls my hand away from my face. “Don’t cover your features, Mimi. You’re beautiful when you laugh and I love seeing it.”
Warmth crawls up my cheeks. “Thank you,” I murmur. “You are too. I mean, you’re handsome, not beautiful.” Oh my god. It’s like I’ve forgotten how words work, but Mason doesn’t notice because he sits back and flashes me the biggest smile with a wink.
“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go in and have some dinner so we can see if I can make you like anything else about me other than this ugly mug.”
Laughing, we exit the limo and step up to the restaurant. It’s quite old-fashioned in a luxurious, elegant way. There’s a slight stoop and the green awning over the door announces that the restaurant is called the Metro Bar and Grill, but it looks so much more sophisticated than any bar and grill I’ve ever been to.
Inside, the restaurant is alive and bustling with energy. The tables are full, and waiters and waitresses wind their way between large banquettes, delivering meals and refilling drinks. There’s a bar on the far right side of the space where bartenders juggle liquor bottles while chatting with guests. The energy is pulsing, and I love it already.
A host steps out from behind the marble counter top and immediately greets Mason, almost bowing at the waist.
“It’s so good to see you again, Mr. Carlisle. We have the VIP table all set up and ready for your enjoyment tonight.”
My date nods.
“Thanks, Rich.”
The host, Richard apparently, leads us to a table that’s set away from the main floor of the restaurant. From here, it almost feels like we have our own private section of the restaurant all to ourselves, while also being able to see the other diners. Mason pulls out my chair and I sit gratefully, as Richard pulls a bottle of wine out of a bucket of ice and pours a glass for each of us.
“The chef de cuisine will be right with you,” he says.
“Thanks,” Mason says with a nod as the host scurries off.
I arch a brow looking at my date. “The chef will be right with us? Not a waiter or waitress like everyone else?”
My gorgeous date grins. “The chef here knows me, so he usually likes to be the one to take my order. Mostly, I think he just likes using me as a guinea pig for his new recipes.”
Suddenly, a shadow comes to stand by our table.
“Ah, hello Mr. Carlisle!” Our visitor is portly with a huge tummy, wearing a white chef’s jacket along with a toque. He shakes Mason’s hand, then nods to me. “Good evening, Miss. Thank you for coming to Metro tonight. Mr. Carlisle, you’ll be happy to know I got in a fresh batch of truffles and scallops today just for your dinner tonight.”
Mason smiles. “You take good care of me, Chef. I’m honored.”
The portly man grins sunnily.
“Well, apparently I’ve got to make up for using you as my guinea pig.”
The two of them laugh and I smile. It’s nice seeing Mason interact with other people, and comforting to see that he’s genuinely a good person. Wealth and dashing looks can be a losing combination when it comes to living with decency, but all signs point to Mason just being a good man, who also happens to have money … and a killer set of abs.
My date meets my eyes, his blue eyes dancing. “Would you like to hear some options from the chef, or are you set on the scallop and truffle risotto, sweetheart?”
I smile at him. “Seeing how you’ve talked it up, I’ve got to try it now.”
“Wonderful,” chortles the chef with another bow. “We’ll have it right out for you, Madame.”
With that, the portly man departs and my date turns to fix me with those intense blue eyes again.
“So honey,” he begins, “you’ve been staying with me for a week, and when we met, I told you I was at the Wilshire for a business conference. I know you’ve seen I have a bit of wealth, working in the hospitality industry, but I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about what I do specifically. Aren’t you a tiny bit curious?”
