An Indecent Proposal(47)

He shrugged. “Why would I do that when I didn’t want to? You’re only getting married once.”

Oh, come on!

“I know, but….” The tip of my tongue flicked over my lip as I carefully prepared my words. “This wouldn’t be your usual marriage, Chase. It’s all about convenience. We don’t have a real relationship.”

“Yet.” The word cut through the air and made me flinch. My heart jumped into my mouth as the meaning of it sank in.

“We will never have a real relationship,” I whispered so low I wasn’t sure he could hear me. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. You don’t know what a relationship with me could mean for you.”

“I’m a patient man. I’m not asking you now.” His fingers brushed my hand over the table. “You never know what tomorrow brings. All I’m asking is that you give us a chance to get to know each other, to figure out whether there could be more between us.”

I frowned. “What exactly?”

“That you’ll have to figure out yourself.”

Pretending I didn’t hear, I swallowed hard and pulled my hand out of his grip to pick up the menu. There was nothing between us. Period. Maybe just a bit of mutual understanding. Okay, a tiny bit of attraction. But that was it, and I wanted it to stay that way.

We both scanned the menu in silence.

“I’m having today’s three-menu course. Chicken tagine with figs and olives sounds too good to resist. What do you think, Laurie?” Chase’s voice drew me back from my shock at the prices as the list progressed, each one more absurd than the last.

Holy shit.

Why hadn’t he told me in advance we’d be visiting this place so I could have taken out a loan?

A thousand bucks for a piece of special truffle cake? Even the salad cost more than an entire evening plus leftovers for the next day at the place where Jude and I usually ate on special occasions. This was ridiculous. I had to settle for a salad. I could do that, couldn’t I?

“I don’t know.” I scanned the list once more to find the cheapest item…and found nothing that even remotely fit into my financial plan. “I’m not really that hungry.”

Which was a lie. I was starving. The air smelled mouth-wateringly delicious, and my stomach had growled ever since a waiter had passed us by with a tray full of what looked like green pasta and salmon.

“There must be something you like, Laurie.” Did I detect a hint of irritation in his voice?

I sighed and scanned the menu one last time, my gaze glued to the prices as though my mind could make them shrink.

“I’ll go with the French garlic soup,” I said at last, my voice thin. Closing the menu, I caught Chase’s grim expression and remembered that garlic wasn’t so great for kissing. He probably figured the same, and he had expressed an interest in making out later, so…I changed my mind. “Or maybe the mussel soup.”

I groaned inwardly. Assuming that we’d be ending the night with a kiss was ridiculous. Where the hell did that come from? Not that I didn’t want to, but I hadn’t been so obvious about it, had I?

“Soup?” Chase sounded incredulous, almost pissed. “I’m paying for dinner, Laurie, and I insist you choose something that’s actually nourishing.” He tapped his fingers on the menu. I didn’t want to point out that soup was nourishing. People all over the world ate it. “Unless you’re on a diet?” He raised his eyebrow, but it wasn’t with amusement, and I remembered our first date slash interview, during which he had expressed distaste for women who couldn’t tuck into a wholesome helping of spare ribs.

“Okay, if you insist, I’ll have the same. Chicken tagine with figs and olives, it is.” I sighed. “Can we at least split the bill?” His scowl lifted almost instantly.

“Not going to happen.” He looked at me, amused. “But I’m taking you up on your offer.”

I frowned. “What offer?”

He grinned. “After this date, when I drop you off at your home, I expect another kiss.”

I stared at him, unsure whether I should laugh off his absurd demand or pretend I didn’t hear him. In the end, I decided to go with the second option.

“I hardly know anything about you,” I said to both brush him off and steer the conversation in a different direction.

A waiter approached with our wine glasses. I folded the napkin as he lit some candles and then retreated again.

“There isn’t much to know,” Chase said as soon as we were alone again.

He appeared to be a mystery, and he wanted to keep it that way. But just because I could see that much didn’t mean it pleased me.