Asher shrugged, starting to look embarrassed. “It’s just—you were holding the chopsticks wrong.”
“I like that way of holding chopsticks,” I retorted.
“You see, that’s just the problem,” Asher went on, launching into a complicated explanation of the proper technique.
Lacey and Grant were very distinguished pillars of society and the stoical role models of the business pages, which is why they were holding up their napkins to hide their giggles.
“Guys, this is serious stuff!” Asher said. “I don’t see what’s so funny about it.”
Some of my tension drained away with Asher’s indignant outburst, and as I thought about it, I decided that maybe I had been being too sensitive. I was teasing him too, after all; if I was going to dish it out, then I’d better learn to take it.
“Cool your jets, Flash Gordon,” I told him. “I promise to try your supposedly ‘right’ way of eating crème brulee, if you’ll undo your straitjacket for a second and try it my way too.”
Asher looked for a second like I had suggested drawing a mustache on the Mona Lisa, but then he nodded. “All right.”
He dumped his milk on top of his dessert, took a deep breath as if he was diving into the deep end of a pool that also contained a shark, and jammed his spoon deep into the custard, scraping the bottom of the bowl as he brought forth a large gob to cram into his mouth. His eyes widened as he chewed.
“Not bad,” he said after swallowing. “I don’t think I’ll be pulling that at any business meetings, though.”
“Look at that, the world didn’t end,” I said, patting his arm.
“Your turn,” he pointed out, signaling the waiter for a new ramekin since mine was already cleaned out.
I raised my spoon in an overly fastidious fashion and gently rapped the crust. Steam and the sweet scent of orange zest rose from the crust. I dipped my spoon gently into the creamy custard below and brought it to my mouth, watching Asher’s eyes darken as they tracked the path of the spoon between my lips, the darting of my tongue outward to lick away the last trace—
“Asher, did I just see you murder a perfectly good dessert?” came a distressingly familiar voice. “I think I may have to call the cops for what you did to that innocent crème brulee.”
On one hand, it was probably a good thing that Brody Dalton interrupted me before I could give a full-on simulated blowjob to a spoon in front of my only investor and my two best friends. On the other hand, goddamnit, Asher and I had been having a moment.
“Brody!” Grant said happily. “The gang’s all here!”
“Brody,” Asher echoed, with about one hundred percent less sincerity. “You made it after all.”
“We just don’t see enough of each other these days,” Brody said with a grin that had probably charmed all the ladies back when he was an eighteen-year-old polo player, but that now seemed a bit desperate and sad.
He was trying and failing to fit into a sky blue jacket that looked like it had been tailored for me five years and twenty pounds ago, and the bright lights made it clear that his sandy hair was beginning to thin. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, without even asking them if they planned to use it, and planted himself at ours.
“How have you been keeping yourself? Settled that furniture issue yet? It’s rough trying to jump-start a business that requires so many initial investments. Not at all like the wheat enzyme business.”
“Well, that sounds so interesting, but Kate and I were actually about to hit the dance floor,” Asher said, standing so quickly I’m surprised he didn’t break a record. He grabbed my arm and whisked me away.
“What the hell was that about?” I asked when I thought we were out of earshot.
“Nothing,” Asher said. “Just a falling out over an old business deal. Shall we dance?”
“Well, I guess we kind of have to, now that you made that excuse,” I said, trying not to sound like my insides were jumping up and down and ordering celebratory drinks at the thought of being held in his arms. “But, uh, fair warning, the last time I hit the dance floor in earnest was seventh grade hip-hop class, and I do not think those moves would be welcome here.”
Asher gave a dazzling smile, placing his hands on my waist. “Don’t worry. The waltz is simple, and I’ll lead.”
His arms were steady and sure as he gathered me up and began to guide me across the dance floor. I stumbled at first, but he didn’t even break stride as he caught me and kept me from a twisted ankle, moving with effortless grace. In just a few short turns, I felt as though I were walking on air. Out of nowhere, he dipped me, and I laughed in startled delight, clinging to his sturdy frame as he brought me back up.