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She smiles, and my heart races again.
“Mouth-watering. I’m famished.”
“Let’s have our drinks on the terrace and snack on this cheese and fruit while the sun sets on the river.”
Whitney kicks off her heels and walks back and forth on the patch of grass not covered by the picnic blanket.
“I may be a city girl now, but I still love the feel of thick grass under bare feet.”
She catches me staring at her. I’m taken with her glossy chocolate curls, pouty pink lips, and rich brown eyes.
“What’s wrong? Does the city boy not understand how good it feels to go barefoot in the grass?”
I shake my head.
“No, sweetheart. Nothing’s wrong. Having you here makes everything right.”
She smiles at me with some exasperation, even though I know she loves hearing the words.
“Peter, you don’t have to constantly flatter someone you’ve paid to spend time with you.”
That makes my heart stop beating for a moment, and I pause.
“Is that what you think? I don’t need to treat you special because I’ve paid you?”
She shakes her head, biting her lip.
“No. That’s not what I mean. Well maybe, sort of. It’s just hard for me to remember that this isn’t really dating when you compliment me like that. I find myself genuinely enjoying your company and just wanting to spend time with you, and I know I don’t have the right to feel that way.”
I cock my head and look at her, my blue eyes suddenly intense.
“Whitney, we may have met in an odd way, but I’m not paying you to be a cam girl anymore, and I want to make that clear. I spend time with you because I enjoy your company. I give you money because I believe in your business, and I like to invest in people who have potential. I’ve never paid for sex in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.”
She looks penitent. I know she’s heard my words, but I don’t know if they’ve sunk in.
“I know you don’t need to,” she soothes. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin our evening. Let’s get back to cocktails and cheese.”
I stare hard at her again.
“Ok, but only if you tell me if this is why you’ve been acting a little strange lately.”
She nods.
“It is. I just over-think things sometimes.”
I take her face in my hands and gently kiss her, desperate to make my point.
“You are beautiful, intelligent, and have a lot to offer. Don’t sell yourself short. Now tell me about your week.”
She smiles brilliantly, and I feel better, but something tells me that this issue isn’t over yet. Nonetheless, Whitney sails forth with her ideas.
“I put a lot of thought into recipes for your milkshakes. I’ve had my friend, Alvina, test them out on her boyfriend because he’s a huge Shake Place fan. I think we’ve come up with some really good flavors.”
I grin.
“That’s great. I usually come up with our new menu items, but I’ve been uninspired lately. It seems like everything I come up with is boring. I wouldn’t even want to drink my creations myself.”
Whitney giggles.
“Okay, so it’s perfect then! But hear me out on some of these because they’re not traditional ice cream flavors. I use some floral flavors like lavender and hibiscus in my cupcakes and they’re a huge hit. I thought we could combine them with some traditional favorites to make new ones? Lavender and lemon pair well so you could do that and get a second flavor out of it by adding cheesecake bits. Nearly any berry flavor works with hibiscus, but I’m leaning towards blackberry or raspberry. What do you think?”
I shake my head. She’s a genius.
“Those are awesome ideas, sweetheart, and I can’t wait to try them.”
“Oh, good, because I made some lavender and hibiscus syrups and brought them with me. I was also thinking coconut and key lime for a tropical flair, and Mexican chocolate was Derek’s favorite. I have some ideas that require expensive ingredients if you want to do a gourmet line. Is that okay? Maybe at certain locations that will pay a higher price point?”
I lean in and kiss her deeply; Whitney’s just taken a huge load off of my plate, and her brains and business sense are a big turn on for me. I’ve dated so many models and socialites whose only thoughts revolved around what to wear and who would see them wearing it.
“Wow, milkshakes really make you hot,” she giggles when we finally break the kiss. My eyes flash.
“It’s not the milkshakes, it’s you. You’re helping me feel excited about my own business, and I haven’t experienced that in a while. I was so gung-ho when I first started out that I couldn’t wait to get to work each morning, but I lost touch. Lately, it’s just become too much of being an executive rather than a restaurant owner.”
