Truth or Date(10)
When had my life turned go-go-go? “Okay, I’ll stop by after work. I hope it won’t take long. I’m meeting Ethan for dinner in Old Sac at six.”
Ellen examined her gorgeous mani. “I’m not going to say it . . .”
“Good.” I threw her a grateful look. If only I’d asked Ethan yesterday at lunch, everyone would calm down. Including me.
As we were wrapping things up at the nail salon, I had the urge to tell the girls about the game Chris and I’d started last night, but decided against it. What would be the point? I’d done Chris a favor last night and would do him another tonight. No big deal. It’s not like any of it was real. No matter how much fun we were having.
****
I strode into The Boat House stressed out to maximum capacity. After work, I’d hurried to Blissfully Bridal as directed, tried on the strapless red bridesmaid dress, and held my breath as Kathia zipped it up. I let out a grateful whoosh at its perfect fit and when Kathia approved it, I thought things might finally be going my way until I received the following text from Chris: Hi, honey. If your plans change or you get done early, come join John and me for dinner at The Boat House. Heard on the radio they have an awesome reggae band playing there tonight.
That’s right. At THE BOAT HOUSE.
Why in the world did Chris have to choose the very same restaurant where I’d be meeting Ethan when I, myself, hadn’t been here in years? Since it required more than jeans and a tee shirt, it had never made George’s list of where we should eat out. So what if the radio says the band’s supposed to be cool? I needed to get to know Ethan in peace without a very hot temptation there distracting me.
Instead of responding to Chris, I called Ethan to beg and plead that we eat somewhere else, anywhere else, and got his voicemail each of the five (count them, five) times I called. I mean, really, how could I date a man who turns his cell phone off when I might need to contact him in emergencies such as these?
Determined to enjoy my time with Ethan and not let Chris’s probable presence at the restaurant divert my attention, I strode into The Boat House wearing a white dress that hugged the new curves I’d decided to embrace. I’d splurged on two dresses last Sunday while shopping for the rehearsal dinner and this was one of them. True, white isn’t slimming but whatever. With my dark hair and light skin, Rach said it gave me a Greek goddess kind of look. Who would argue with that kind of compliment? The expression on Ethan’s face when he saw me made it worth the small fortune it cost.
“Gina.” Ethan planted a quick kiss on my cheek, then his dark eyes moved up and down my body. “Wow.”
“Thanks.” I reveled in the attention since I’d never had that reaction from George. Not even when we’d first started dating. “You look nice yourself.”
And he did. His black blazer stretched across his broad chest perfectly and complimented his dark and stunning features.
“Shall we get seated?” He looked thrown for a moment—guess seeing me dressed up differed a tad from the business suit I’d worn to lunch—and I took that as a good sign. He approached the podium, greeted the man in the suit behind it, and gave his last name.
As the host led us to a table inside by the fireplace, he tossed a very obvious second glance my way and I made a mental note to take Rach with me clothes shopping from now on. Windows along the back wall allowed an easy view of the river beyond the deck where the band had already begun playing. The thrumming beat and soothing vibrations made me wish we’d been seated outside.
“Cozy in here by the fire.” Ethan lifted the leather bound wine menu. “This is my favorite table so I reserved it for us.”
Impressed by his thoughtfulness, I tilted my head. “How sweet of you.”
Ethan perused the wine list. “Should we order a bottle?”
I checked my watch. Less than two hours until I needed to be home and I had to drive. “Actually, I’m meeting a friend later. So, just one glass for me.”
He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Tonight? I thought you were free.”
“Free until seven forty-five.” I kept my voice cheery since he seemed a little irritated. “We’ll have to plan a full evening out soon.”
His gaze flicked back to the list. “Funny. I thought we had.”
Make that very irritated.
My stomach clenched. Why had I said yes to drinks with Chris? The sound of Ms. H.R.’s husky laugh echoed through my mind. Oh, right. That’s why. “The seafood linguini looks good . . .”
I’d considered asking about Italian history but things hadn’t plummeted that low. Yet.
“The seafood linguini is excellent.” He nodded, but kept his eyes glued to the menu as if to express I was still in the doghouse. “I’ve had it before. The Cajun Jambalaya’s good as well.”
On the last sentence, his tone seemed a tad friendlier so I relaxed a little. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Good evening. I’m Marcia.” A dark-haired woman appeared wearing a stern expression. “I’ll be your server this evening. May I start you off with a cocktail?”
Ethan raised a brow at me.
“Just because I can’t stay late doesn’t mean we won’t have a great time.” I doubted Chris would make a big deal about a short evening since he’d taken my being late to his business dinner in stride. I turned to the waitress who scowled at me—fine, take Ethan’s side—and asked her to recommend a Pinot Grigio. I ignored the urge to put a fake Italian accent on grigio since Ethan hadn’t realized I’d been joking last time. Ethan ordered a gin and tonic, then the waitress disappeared with one last hostile side-glance. Whatever, lady.
“I’m going to order the Butternut Squash with Cream Sauce.” Forget low-calorie salads and my new dress size. My taste buds called the shots tonight. “What about you?”
“The Cajun Jamba—” He stopped mid-sentence and his dark brows came together. “Is that your friend from work?”
“Huh?” My eyes immediately darted to where Ethan cast his gaze and my heart froze. Solid ice, I tell you, as my pretend boyfriend strolled in looking sexier than ever in dark slacks and a blue collared shirt that made his eyes stand out from across the room. Even my grouchy waitress gave Chris the once-over as the host led him toward the back deck.
As if sensing me watching, Chris’s head suddenly angled my way and our eyes locked.
The ice in my chest burst to flames, heating my cheeks, and forcing me to turn away. Why did I care if Chris saw me with Ethan? I was on a date. So what?
“I got enough of him the first time.” Ethan’s tone was flat. “Did you tell him you’d be here?”
“No, of course not.” My face burned and had to be bright red even though this wasn’t my fault. “I heard he was coming here with a friend though. I called you several times but you didn’t pick up.”
“You did?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Ah, I put my phone on mute for a meeting, then forgot to take put the ringer back on. Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” Feeling awkward, I ducked behind a menu and rolled my eyes to the ceiling cursing The Boat House for announcing their fabulous band on the radio. “Here comes our waitress. Let’s order.”
After the server left with our dinner selections, conversation was a bit stilted. As if he felt as uncomfortable with Chris being here as I did. This wasn’t fair to Ethan, but it’s not like I wanted Chris to show up here. I mean, what control did I have over where Chris chose to eat lunch and dinner? That’d be none.
Finally, I asked about the fall of the Roman empire. Desperate times called for desperate topics. It perked Ethan’s mood considerably even though the Italian history rehash made me want to take a siesta. As we ate our salads, I had the strong urge to look out the window for Chris and had to force myself not to. Finally, I excused myself to the bathroom. I needed to get a grip before I completely ruined my chance with Ethan.
Once I’d fanned myself in front of the mirror, reapplied my lipstick, and calmed my heartbeat down to a dull trot, I headed back out.
Chris stood outside, waiting for me.
****
“I can’t believe you’re cheating on me.” Chris folded his arms over his chest.
“I, uh . . .” Was he serious? Because he actually looked kind of serious. “For real?”
His gorgeous blue eyes squinted. “What can you possibly see in that guy?”
I bit my bottom lip. Did he really want to know? “He’s nice. Successful. Attractive.”
His brows quirked together. “And I’m not?”
“No, you totally are.” My cheeks flushed at how quickly I’d said that.
“Why then?” He shook his head, reached for my shoulders and bent down so his eyes were level with mine. “When I’d do anything for you.”
My stomach fell to the floor. I mean, the way he’d said anything took my mind to all kinds of places and I really wanted to get that promise in writing. The air stilled between us as we searched each other’s eyes until, finally, I pressed my palms to his very solid chest. “Honey, it meant nothing to me and will never happen again.”