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Chapter Nineteen
“What should wetoast?” Roger asked, clicking his wineglass against mine. We were sitting in a small, brightly lit Italian restaurant on King Street, having ordered dinner—pasta for me, grilled shrimp for him—about to partake of a bottle of Chianti.
“To finding you the condo of your dreams,” I offered.
“I will definitely drink to that.” He took a sip of his wine, then watched as I did the same. “So, what do you think?”
“About what?”
He laughed. “The wine. Do you like it?”
“It’s wonderful,” I said, feeling silly. Harrison never asked my opinion of the wine he selected. “Very smooth.”
“Very smooth indeed.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, tell me about Jodi Bishop.”
“Not much to tell,” I demurred. “What you see is pretty much what you get.”
“Somehow I doubt that. You strike me as a woman with very deep thoughts.”
I laughed, feeling flattered, and took another sip of my wine.
“What’s funny?”
“Just that no one has ever accused me of having deep thoughts before.”
His turn to laugh. “Sounds like no one has ever looked closely enough.”
I took another, longer sip of my wine.Is he flirting with me?I wondered again. This was immediately followed by:So, what if he is? A little flirting never hurt anyone.
“Have you always wanted to sell real estate?” he asked.
“I don’t think any little girl ever grows up dreaming to be a real estate agent,” I said honestly.
“Whatdidyou grow up dreaming to be?”
“Initially, a dancer. Like my mother.”
“What changed your mind?”
“My father,” I said with a shrug. “He said I had absolutely no talent, and it would be a waste of everyone’s time.”
“He sounds lovely.”
“Unfortunately, he was right.” I shrugged again, this one bigger than the first. “Then, in college, I decided I wanted to study interior design.”
“What stopped you?”
“My father,” I said again. “He said I should concentrate my energy on something where I’d have a better chance at success, leave the more artsy, stylish pursuits to my more artsy, stylish sister.”
He smiled. The smile said:You are ineffably charming.
Or maybe it was the wine that was telling me that.
Whatever it was, I was enjoying it.
Elyse was right: flirtingwasfun.
“What about you? Did you always want to be in…whatever it is that you do?” I asked, realizing I had no idea what that was, other than that he worked on Bay Street, which likely meant it involved finance.
