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I lean forward, take a tentative taste, and savor the simplicity and deliciousness of the dish while trying to get a handle on the butterflies in my stomach as he feeds me the flaky, succulent meat, and then he intermittently switches it to a taste of the crab ravioli the chef has paired with the meal.
“It’s absolutely delicious.”
“The chef is talented,” Sheldon states before taking a forkful from his own plate. His eyes haven’t left mine once, and they track my movement as I take a sip of the sweet but complex red wine in between bites.
“Why don’t we start with something easier than sex,” he tells me as though sensing my nervousness. “Tell me about your family. I know some because I had a background check run on you before I asked you to assist with Katarina’s hair and makeup, but I’d like to know more and hear it from you.”
“Did you have some private I dig into my family’s background?” I ask, twirling the red deliciousness in my glass and inhaling deeply before taking another sip.
“The team that created the report works for the organization. We use them for any intel we need. It was a priority since we needed to get you at least temporarily cleared before we could allow you into the Prestian’s home.”
“Hmm. So, this team spied on me for you?”
The corners of his lips turn slightly upward. “Simply informational, but usually I ask the questions and you answer them with a response, not another question,” Sheldon directs before taking a drink of his wine.
“Well, it’s not every day that someone tells me I’ve been spied on. I understand why you did it, but it’s more than a little … stalkerish!”
“If you’re done being upset with me, perhaps we should start with what I know, what I’ve learned, and what I still want to know?”
He’s so damn sure of himself. Why the hell does that turn me on so much? I should chew him out, at least give him a piece of my mind for spying on me, but I have no doubt it would go in one ear and right out the other because of that smirk he’s giving me, and deep down, whether I like it or not, I know it’s for my own protection. And he’s so damn good looking, sexy, and ugh! “Yes, just tell me.”
His eyes light up with amused delight, and his hand wipes over his lip.
“You find this funny?”
Sheldon nods, swallowing his laughter. “Guilty.”
“So, tell me what you and your little spy team found out about me,” I demand, holding back the smile that threatens to take over my face.
“My little spy team,” Sheldon says, running his hand over his chin. My skin tingles with anticipation, wishing he were running those strong fingers over me right now. “I’m not so sure they would take too kindly to that nickname.”
“Well, they did spy on me,” I huff.
“They did at my request, so the fault is strictly mine. And, for the record, I would do it again. You had a seemingly regular childhood, loving parents from what we could tell, did exceptionally well in school, and have an impressive work history.”
“You learned all that about me? Grades and everything?”
“They did, but there were a few things the report didn’t tell me, and I will enjoy hearing it from you much more than reading it from one of my spy reports.”
“Okay, Sheldon. We’ll play this little game of yours, but I get to ask some questions too. Your turn first, though. You know, it’s only fair since it is your game. What would you like to know?”
His deep brown eyes are twinkling brightly. I find it hard to focus on anything but them. “Your parents don’t live too far from the city?” he asks.
“It’s about a forty-minute drive north. They live in a small community, Portsmouth. You’ve probably never even heard of it.”
“Actually, I have an uncle who lives there, and my father and I used to fish with him on the lake every year.”
“Seriously? How old are you? We could have bumped into each other on the docks or the rocks that lead out to the old lighthouse. I used to sit there for hours looking out over the lake or just reading a book.”
“Twenty-eight, and last I read you were twenty-three. If we ran into each other in that small town, you were far too young for me at the time,” Sheldon says.
I shrug. “Four years in my teen years would have been a huge gap. Funny how time changes that.”
“Uh-huh. How many boyfriends did you have growing up? All my team could find is the one you dated for about six months after high school, and then nothing after that.”
My chest tightens because this is so not what I want to talk about right now. I tread lightly around the topic since I haven’t discussed that full-blown fiasco with anyone—absolutely no one, not even my closest friend. “I had a boyfriend. It wasn’t a good experience, and that’s it. I really haven’t dated much outside of that. A few meet-ups for coffee or a beer, but that’s about it.”
He nods. “The report outlined your work history. I’m curious what drives you, what fuels the kind of success you’re creating, and the bank account you’ve managed to acquire.”
