Ruthless In A Suit(27)

“I don’t like anything fussy,” she says.

“You certainly don’t need anything extra to make you shine,” I say. “How about a delicate diamond bracelet?” I wrap my fingers around her tiny wrist. “You’d wear it well.”

“Do you plan on buying me something?” she asks. “I thought you didn’t stick around for things like that.”

“I don’t,” I say delicately.

“So don’t tease me,” she says. “You said you wouldn’t.”

I realize this is getting a little heavy for me. I release her wrist and sit back in my seat, putting distance between us. I’m tempted to throw the table aside and wrap her up in my arms. The small touch of her skin may have only made things worse. But if one thing is a real boner crusher, it’s relationship talk.

“I won’t tease you,” I say. Unless you want me to, I want to add but don’t. The main course isn’t even here yet, and I’m starting to wonder how much more I can take. I have a sip of the wine, then chase it with the sparkling water to help keep my wits about me. With each moment that passes—each look, each touch, each word out of Emily’s perfect lips—I wonder how I’ll ever survive being tempted by her.

Our eyes locked on one another again, neither of us speaking—at least not with words—when Rocco comes through the door.

As we go through the courses—an arugula salad with pear, a roasted corn soup, and a champagne sorbet—I find that as passionate as Emily is about helping others, she’s done little to help herself in terms of a social life.

“That’s one thing we have in common,” I tell her. “Work always comes first.”

“I spend so much time studying, not to mention working part-time at CEF, that I hardly have time for anything else aside from the occasional happy hour and grub at Mickey’s Tavern,” she says.

It’s ridiculous, but I’m glad she doesn’t mention a guy—aside from her brother and father.

“This is the most out I’ve been in, God,” she says, thinking. “I don’t even want to say. I had to really dig in the back of my closet to find this thing.”

She gestures down at the gold dress, which fits her so perfectly despite the fact that I find myself wanting to rip it off her body.

When the entrées arrive, I’m happy for the distraction.

Rocco sets our dinner plates in front us, pieces of art, really. The rich aroma of the lamb warms me, and Emily’s five-spice seared yellowfin tuna is a plate of vibrant colors and beauty.

Once the new wines are served—including the rosé for Emily—Rocco makes his exit. We listen as the door clicks shut.

“Oh my god,” she says after taking her first bite. “Jackson, this is incredible.”

I smile. “Of course it is. I only go in for the best. When I heard talk of Chef Barton opening his own restaurant I knew I had to get on board if for no other reason than to dine here whenever I wanted.”

“You have to taste this,” she says.

“I’ve had it,” I say. “I know how good it is. You enjoy it.”

She takes another bite and closes her eyes as she chews. I almost drop my fork as I watch the pure pleasure on her face as she slowly works her jaw, savoring each taste. She opens her eyes as if waking from a dream, swallowing the bite. “Here,” she says, nudging her plate toward me. “You have to have some. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

Christ, she’s killing me and she has no idea. Absolutely none.

“I’ll taste yours if you taste mine,” I say. “You first.” I cut off a small piece of meat for her. Emily leans forward in her seat, her breasts coming dangerously close dipping into the sauce on her plate. Without a word, she drops her mouth open and waits for me to feed her, her eyes locked on mine. I move the fork toward her mouth, and her tongue slips out the smallest bit to capture the food. She wraps her lips around the fork and gently tugs back. I think I might explode right here at the table.

“Mmm,” she moans as she chews, her eyes falling shut again. “Amazing.” I can’t move while I watch her. Never in my life has a woman had me so charged up, and over dinner. “Your turn.” She fills her fork and leans toward me again, her eyes on my lips. The fork hovers there for a moment, but I can’t take my eyes off her. “Here.”

“Put it down,” I say, and I hear the scratchiness in my voice as if I’m choking on want.

“You don’t want to taste?”

God, is she this innocent, or is she messing with me? I can’t tell, but it’s making me crazy just the same.