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“A muffin for me, and a small bag of ice.” He points to his nose. “How about you, ma chouette?”
“Scrambled eggs with chicken livers. The mushrooms, onion, and green peppers make it really yummy.”
“Toast?”
After a short internal debate—raisin or rye?—I plump for neither. “Wheat toast, please, with the butter on the side. And do you have any jam besides grape or strawberry?”
“Blueberry?”
I give her a thumbs-up.
“You got it.” With one more long gaze at JL’s arresting, if somewhat disfigured, visage, she hurries off to the kitchen to put in our selections.
He stares at me, brow furrowed. “Probably shouldn’t ask, but what did you see in that asshole?”
“You probably shouldn’t.” I sip my coffee. Then I look over the rim of the mug into his burnt-sugar eyes. “I was ready to settle. He was convenient and convinced me he wanted me. In the beginning, he wasn’t so bad. By the time I noticed the changes, inertia had set in. He was the easy option.”
JL’s mouth droops, but then he recovers. “You should never have to settle. Never. You deserve everything.”
“Hah. The guys I dated in college and even in law school always told me I was too dedicated, too ambitious, too competitive. When I made my choice, career came first. Sam was the only guy who didn’t seem to care I earned more money. He liked the idea of being a kept man. Settling for him felt like my only option if I didn’t want to be alone.”
After a sip of his cappuccino, JL wipes the foam off his lips. But he says nothing.
“And you?” I challenge. “How will you feel when work is my focus?”
“I believe you can have both,” he says, sounding so sincere, so honest. His words warm me for a second before an icy trickle replaces it.
He’s a man in a man’s world and doesn’t know what women face, especially professional women. The condescension, the backlash. And how long will it be until he wants the attention, complains about the long hours, tires of pitching in?
I shake my head and drink my coffee. His vision is a pipe dream, and he’ll back away soon enough, find someone who can put him first.
He glances at his phone, turns the conversation to practical matters. “Still too early to call the office. After we eat, I’ll take you home so you can prepare for the day. In the meantime, I’ll go to my place, shower, and change, then pick you up and take you to the office. Once I arrive at GSU, I’ll organize the arrangements. It will be three guys in rotation. Once I have everything in place, someone will brief you on the setup.”
His take-charge, businesslike manner is another turn-on for me. Everything about him produces electric shocks and I have to concentrate on not salivating when I picture him in a well-cut suit.Just lust and a yearning for some fun. Nothing serious.If I say it enough, maybe I’ll believe it.
He’s not looking for permanent either. Cress told me his fiancée dumped him when he was serving in Germany. Serial dating is his speed now. Keeping things light and casual will make this so much easier when we’re done. Satisfied I’ve quelled my inner siren, I dig into the Continental. What a treat. I’d never be able to make this, nor do I want to. Having others cook for you is the height of decadence for me.
“Micki, are you listening?” JL sounds both worried and irritated. Guess my lascivious thoughts are translating in a worrisome way.
I give him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, lost in thought.”
“About Sam?” He sits rigid, back taut, shoulders sky-high, his tone sharp, acid.
Startled by his vehemence and obvious jealousy, I snap, “What makes you think that? Sam was the farthest thing from my mind.”
“Sorry, but he is the only guy under discussion.” Shoulders dropping from his ears, JL’s eyes soften as he picks up a piece of steak, perfectly encased in charcoaled crustiness that contrasts beautifully with the deep red interior. He pops it into his mouth. “Parfait.”
I excavate a piece of chicken liver from the enveloping eggs and relish the texture, smooth on the outside, soft and melty within. Sautéed and seasoned with a little balsamic vinegar, it’s heaven on my tongue.
JL looks around the cheerful, brightly lit space, then gazes into the darkness beyond the window. “Nice place. Good food.” He switches from the steak to pick up an English muffin, half slathered with butter and marmalade. He gestures with it, careful not to let anything drip. “Knowing you’ll be protected after I leave for London eases my mind. After all, I’ll be gone two weeks before you land in Paris.” He pins me with a heated gaze. “I wish you could do the entire trip with us.”
“Me too. But I can’t take that much time off work. We have a big case on, and the client is pushing for a swift resolution. I can’t even do my usual things—watch hockey or join a geocaching group.”
“Geocaching?”
“It’s a kind of treasure hunt. You use GPS to find hidden containers. I downloaded a free app. Locate the coordinates and use those to find the caches. Sometimes you add your ID to a log. Sometimes there’s an item. If you want to take it, then you need to leave something comparable.”
“What’s in your kit? Do you need a shovel?”
