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"I guess I was right. You’re too chicken to find out how good things could be between us. Bet you’re worried you’ll be spoiled for anyone else, you—"
I spin around and stab a finger in his direction. "Please, don’t make this about me. I’m leaving before I say or do something that will blow up into something neither of us will be able to handle."
His grin widens. "Oh, please. By all means, speak your mind. It’s why I brought you here, so we could clear the air."
"By you propositioning me?"
"That’s one route we could take. The most enjoyable route, too." He smirks.
"Are you listening to yourself?" I fume.
"Are you listening to yourself?" He leans back in his chair. "You’re angry at me."
"Thanks for noticing, Captain Obvious."
"When was the last time you got angry at anyone?"
I scowl at him. "Is that a trick question?"
"Think about it, Zara. When was the last time someone pissed you off so much, you decided to leave a meal without even tasting the food?"
I glance at the dish sitting at my abandoned place. It has fish and chips, my favorite dish. And he ordered it for me.
"It’s spicy and the fish is halibut." He refers to the lean white fish that’s not easily available.The side dish is a salad with baby lettuce, rocket leaves, and pomegranate seeds. It’s a combination I love, and one which is not available on most menus. I know because I made up the salad recipe myself.
I glower at him. "How did you know—"
"That you like this specific type of fish, and you prefer your fish and chips extra spicy? That the only time you eat your greens is when it’s spiked with pomegranate seeds?" His lips curve up in a smile that’s half-wicked, half-satisfied. "Did I surprise you?"
I sniff. "Probably just something else that came up in the reports you had ordered on me."
"Why don’t you sit down and finish it, hmm?"
"I think not." I eye the fish and my stomach growls.
He must hear it because he laughs. "Come on, Zara. You have to admit, the interaction over the past half hour is the most stimulation you’ve had in conversation with another person in a while."
"Don’t flatter yourself," I mutter. He’s right, though. I’ve never felt more alive than in the time I’ve spent with him. It’s a combination of nervousness and excitement, with breathless anticipation thrown in. A feeling I only get when I’m faced with a new challenge. Which intrigues me. Which is the only reason I am still here and haven’t walked out on him. That, and this chemistry between us, which I can’t understand. A problem I need to resolve. I’m a fixer, after all. Nothing engages me more than a puzzle that needs to be put together.
"Sit. Eat.” He leans back in his seat. “I promise, I won’t even point out that you still haven’t answered my earlier question."
I shake my head. "Seriously, and I thought I had a big ego, but yours just might be more colossal."
"Not the only thing that’s colossal." He smirks.
I make a gagging sound in my throat. "How very unoriginal of you."
"Have dinner with me, and I promise, I’ll reveal more creative ripostes."
I take my seat and plant my bag on the adjacent chair, then reach for my knife and fork. I cut into the fish and place a small portion in my mouth. The delicate, almost flowery notes of its flesh melt on my tongue. That, combined with the sizzle of the spices in which it’s been marinated, makes it seem like the two different parts of my heritage have coalesced on my palate. "Wow." I chew and swallow. "That’s amazing."
"Right?" He digs into his own food. He’s ordered a burger and fries—another surprise. I hadn’t thought this man was capable of eating anything so ordinary. But then, I don’t really know him at all, so guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty in judging him. And maybe that’s the reason he’s brought me here—so he can soften my opinion of him. Well, it’s going to take more than a plate of fish and chips, even if it’s possibly the best fish and chips I’ve ever had, to alter my viewpoint. So what, if he took the time to find out what my tastes run to and ordered accordingly? He still decided to do it without consulting me, thinking I’d fall in with his plans. It shows just how egotistical he is. How much he’s taking me for granted. And I can’t wait to show him that I know my own mind. I’m not one of those easily maneuverable bimbos he, no doubt, likes to hang out with.
He forks up a piece of the burger and holds it out to me. "Here, taste this."
"Umm" —I glance from the food on his fork to him— "you want to feed me?"
"Humor me." He half smiles, and it’s a smile devoid of any agenda. Well, in as much as that’s possible for a twathole like him. When I hesitate, he brings it closer to my mouth so the food brushes my lips. "Go on, you know you want to."
