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“Wine bucket getting in the way,” he said, and I only smiled, a new heat crawling through me, over me, under me.
He was taking control in a way that I found very hot, but at the same time, different. It was like I was putty in his hands, and I knew that if he touched me, I would most certainly become that putty for real. I’d never been putty for anyone else except maybe Jason.
Oh, great. Reminder of creepy connection. Did putty-making ability run in the family?
“Thank you,” he said when the waiter put down the last dish.
Even that little bit of politeness and decency was getting to me. He’d showed it to me almost every time we’ve been together: standing when I came in the room, offering me his arm, taking me out to dinner.
Don’t forget that he asked you to babysit his daughter without compensation. In the middle of a workday.
Miss Logical Scientist was butting her nose again into my business. I brushed her aside.
“Enjoy your meals,” the waiter said, filling our glasses with the rest of the bottle.
“Can you bring us a bottle of the Pinotage next? If that’s okay with you, Cassie.” He turned to me, and I nodded.
More wine was dangerous because my resolve was already slipping after about two glasses. I decided I didn’t care.
“Of course, Dr. Foster,” the waiter said with a smile before retreating, leaving us on our own again.
“Whoa, he knows your name?” I asked, trying not to look too impressed.
The man, according to Google, was pretty well-known, and I could only imagine how much money he made.
“Yeah, I come here a lot. I’m a big fan. Thought you might like it too.” I was glad he didn’t expound upon the fact that he was well-known.
One more degree hotter.
“I do. The food has been incredible thus far. I know this will be amazing too.” I slid in a bit closer to the table, and with him at my elbow, I ate.
We talked a little bit about the lab and Camilla. I was dying to ask more questions, like about what happened between him and Jason, but it was just enough to keep a hold on my own sanity around him. The waiter opened the new bottle and poured for us, and when he left, Brad smiled.
“Don’t worry. I’ll call you a cab when it’s time to go. I will not be driving, and the restaurant allows me to leave my car here overnight.”
“My, my, Dr. Foster, you are quite the character about town,” I said with a chuckle, my laughter coming more easily now that I was on my third glass. “This wine is very good.”
He nodded, lifting the bottle so I could see it. “It’s South African. Some of the best wines in the world.”
“So, you’re a wine afficionado too?”
He shrugged. “Not really, but I do like wines. I’m more of a whiskey connoisseur myself.”
“Hmm…I’ve always wanted to be a connoisseur of something.” I twisted my fork to spin my spaghetti around.
“I think you probably are and just don’t know it. What do you love?”
I looked up at him. The question seemed loaded. But even though I knew it was an innocent question, I realized I’d never been asked that before. As if no one else cared to ask such a simple thing and in such a unique way.
“I love Halloween,” I blurted out.
“Really?” He lifted his brows, interested but not disgusted.
“All things macabre. Horror movies, crime podcasts, dark colors. I don’t know. It’s always been an interest of mine. So, now that it’s November and heading toward Thanksgiving, I get a little bit sad. Thanksgiving and Christmas have their place, but Halloween is where it’s at for me.”
“That’s very cool, Cassie.” Brad reached up and put a hand over mine, which was just resting on the table.
I looked down at it, my heart suddenly in my throat. When I found his eyes again, he was watching me. My tongue felt dry, and everything in my body was yearning toward him. I was surprised I didn’t leap into his lap.
