“I’ll have a Boeuf Bourguignon.” He looks to me. “I’m assuming you’re not the kind of girl who orders a salad?”
I glare at him, unsure if I should take offense at his remark. I decide not to cause a scene in front of the innocent waitress, so I grit my teeth instead. “Absolutely not.”
I open my menu and look over the meals. If Master Q was here to pronounce the titles in his sexy French tongue, then maybe I’d be more inclined to order some of the dishes. Andouillette sounds gross, and Bouillabaisse definitely sounds disgusting. Steak Frites is just about the only thing on the menu that sounds remotely close to normal, so I order it. When the waitress collects our menus and hurries off, I lean forward on the table.
“Do you even know what you ordered?” Jesse asks with an amused smirk.
Shit. Please don’t tell me I ordered snails.
“Steak, I hope… if not, you just wasted a lot of money on a meal I’m not going to eat.”
He chuckles and the sound almost mesmerizes me… such a beautiful laugh. “Luckily for you, it is steak.”
“Good, because I skipped breakfast to fit into this dress, and I’m starving.”
Once again, his eyes flick over me—analyzing every visible inch. “Do you go to the gym?” He asks out of nowhere.
I snort. “Wow, you’re on a roll with the not so subtle fat hints today. Are you insinuating I lose weight?”
“What? No. Not at all. I’m just trying to find common ground. Your body is…” His stare rakes me, and suddenly the room kicks up in temperature. His look is so smoldering and so hot, I’m certain two hobbits are going to run in any second now and throw rings at us. Jesse clears his throat and the lusty gaze is gone. “Fine.”
“I know it is.”
I wish I was perfect, but it’s extremely unrealistic to have the perfect body with a lifestyle like mine. I drink too much, eat takeaways too often, and I’d much rather spend my free time in bed with a book than work out at the gym. Jesse, I assume, spends a good portion of time in the gym. He doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve felt it, and it shows—even through his shirt.
The waitress returns with water and a complimentary wine. Jesse declines the wine, telling her he has to go straight back to work after lunch. I, on the other hand, happily accept it. I even fill it past the quarter mark which drives Jesse absolutely mad. When she leaves again, I take a long sip of the fermented grape juice and relax into my chair.
“Can I ask you a rather forward question?”
I nod. “Please do.”
My curiosity piques. I wonder what kind of forward question he’s going to ask? Maybe he’ll inquire about my breasts. Real or fake? I get it all the time. They’re real, by the way.
He leans forward on his elbows, his fingers threaded in front of his full lips. “Two lunches and two dinners… what’s your intention?”
I tilt my head. “My intention?” Doesn’t he already know? Did I not make that clear? “An ‘O’ is my intention.”
I almost smile at his genuine confusion. “An ‘O’?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “The big ‘O’. A fucking mind blowing, leg shaking, head spinning orgasm.”
To my delightful surprise, Jesse’s face flushes a shade of pink and he glances around the restaurant, clearly nervous. He’s shy… how uncharacteristic for a man like him. I’m generalizing of course, but in my novels—oh, screw it. It’s apparent now that my life isn’t like the novels I read.
“Don’t speak so loudly, Alix.”
“Why? Are you shy?”
His face pinches together—an expression still devastatingly handsome on him. “No.”
“If you’re not shy, are you a prude then, Jesse?”
The pinch develops into a scowl and he drops his hands in offense. “No, I’m not a prude. I just don’t think a woman should talk the way you do.”
The way I do? Now it’s my turn to take offense. “Listen up, Mr. D’Arcy. It’s not the eighteenth century. I can talk however I like.”
“But what do you get out of it? Surely saying the words ‘fuck’ and ‘cock’ aren’t the most exciting things in your life.”
I shrug and let the mischievous smile I suddenly feel, spread over my lips. “Not on their own, but in a sentence they can do all kinds of exciting things to me.”
“Example? And if you call me a ‘fucking cock’ I swear to God, I’m not going to take it lying down.”
As the threat rolls off his tongue, the waitress returns with bread, dipping sauce and stuffed olives. Jesse does his best to hide his clear frustration from her, but I ignore it.