Turn Over:A Secret Baby Sports Romance(55)

Her hand slid into mine as we walked through the lobby. I saw how the  men at the brandy bar looked at her when we walked by. I nodded at a few  of them. Maybe I didn't have the right to claim her, but in this moment  she was mine. Completely mine.

The car waited for us by the curb, and I helped her into the backseat  before jogging around to my side. It was only a two-minute ride to the  restaurant, but it would have taken twenty along the Riverwalk,  especially if she was planning on walking the entire way in those shoes.

"Something funny?" she asked.

"No." I shook my head. I thought I had laughed to myself, but she heard me. "Just having a good time." I squeezed her hand.

The car stopped, and I kissed her on the cheek before the door opened. I couldn't help it. I wanted to touch her. Kiss her.

There was a crowd gathered in front of the restaurant. They were taking pictures next to the stone columns.

"I think it's a rehearsal dinner," she commented as we dodged the photographer.

"Maybe." I pulled her with me into the coolness of the restaurant.

"Ah, Mr. Lachlan we are so happy to have you join us tonight. When I saw  your name on our reservation list, I chose a special table for you."  The restaurant matitre d' motioned for us to follow him.

"Thank you."

Sydney's eyes grew wide. She tried to push the corners of her dress down.

"You didn't tell me it was this fancy," she whispered.

"This place?" I tried to play it off. "Basically a college bar."

"It is not."

Our table was next to the window. Like the suite, it offered a view of  the Riverwalk, only more secluded and less busy. There weren't as many  people walking the boardwalk at this end.

Sydney's expression had changed. She chewed her bottom lip. The one I knew tasted like sangria.

I hadn't figured out how all of this was supposed to work. But I knew  two things. The problem was they were in complete conflict with each  other. I would keep it casual. I had to. And damn it, I was undeniably  attracted to her. More than I should be.

I scooted her chair forward.

"I didn't realize you were such a gentleman."

"Why wouldn't I be?" I settled into my seat across from her, accepting the wine list.

"I don't know. I guess I haven't spent enough time with millionaires. I didn't think you would notice the-the-"

I chuckled to myself while she searched for the word.

"Details?" I offered.

"Yes. Exactly. The little things."

"You see, Miss Paige, I always notice the details. It's what makes me so successful, I believe."

"That's your big secret to success?"

I laughed. "You could say that. And never give the competition any ammunition. Two rules I always live by."

"I think you forgot one."

"What's that?"

"Stay away from the press," she added.

I winked. I liked her sense of humor.

"I thought that was a given."         

     



 

She lowered her eyes to the menu. "What do you recommend here?" She had placed her napkin across her lap, covering her knees.

"Why don't we try one of the specials? I think the filet sounds  tempting." It was how I always judged a chef. The specials would be this  man's signature.

"All right." Her eyes scanned the page. She leaned closer and whispered, "but where are the prices?"

I spoke low. "There aren't any. Order whatever you like."

I dated different of types of women. Some came from families with money.  Not my kind of money. The kind that was so much a part of their genetic  code I knew they bled green. Those women were hard to please. Then  there were they type who knew what was in my bank account and couldn't  wait to add it to theirs. They were easy to please, but I knew their  game. They liked restaurants like this one.

And now I faced a woman like Sydney. She didn't fit into either  category. She didn't seem to care about the money. If I was honest, I  thought it made her a little uncomfortable. I looked around the  restaurant. Everyone talked in hushed tones. There was candlelight. The  waiters wore gloves.

The matitre d' was planted near the mahogany pillar, stealing glances at us. Anxious for me to approve of the wine and the menu.

Sydney's brows were almost knitted together in concentration.

"What do you say we get out of here?" I pushed back from my chair.  Suddenly, I realized this didn't fit into my definition of fun. Not with  her.

"But we haven't even ordered," she protested.

I stood next to her, offering my hand. "Come on. I've got an idea."

I could tell she was trying to hide a smile, but her eyes gave her away. "Ok. Where are we going?"

I tucked her hand in mine and led her through the restaurant. "I spotted a place I think you'll like."

She paused. "This is your dinner, though."

"And I want to take you somewhere else." My voice was firm.

"Mr. Lachlan, is something wrong?" The matitre d' met us at the door.

"No, something has come up."

"I'm sorry to hear that sir. Please call us again. We would love to have you dine with us."

"I'll do that." I nodded at the man. He was clearly distraught we were leaving.

Sydney's hand was soft against my palm. We turned the corner and took  the brick steps that led to the terrace below. I walked slowly, making  sure she had her footing. I opened the iron gate, leading to the  boardwalk. Lights floated above us, tied between trees and awnings. One  of the gondola drivers was singing in the distance. I wondered if it was  the same one we had this afternoon.

"I don't think they were very happy we left." She giggled.

"No, probably not. But I think they'll manage without us."

We stopped in front of one of the cantinas. I looked at the sign and then at Sydney.

"What about this place?" I asked.

A woman greeted us on the patio. "Table for two?"

Sydney nodded. "Yes."

We sat close to the sidewalk. The tables were strewn in no particular  pattern. It looked as if they moved throughout the day, and at the end  of the night the staff would put them back together.

The woman returned with menus. "Can I get drinks for you?"

"A pitcher of margaritas," I instructed.

"Isn't that how we got in trouble last night?" Sydney giggled.

"Exactly what I was thinking."

I saw her blush. I knew exactly how it sounded and it had the effect I  wanted. It wasn't often I met someone who had the same sexual appetite I  had. But I might have met my match. She liked to play. She liked to  argue. But God, what she did in bed blew my mind. As soon as we were  done, I was ready to take her again.

"Thinking about something serious?" she asked.

"Sorry." I focused on her. "So, tell me, Miss Paige, why did you want to be a journalist?"

"That's kind of a heavy question."

"Is it?"

She began to fray the edge of her napkin. Little shredded pieces drifted  through the slats in the iron table. I thought I might have touched on  something.         

     



 

"Have you told me all the real reasons why you decided to get into development and acquisitions?" Her head tilted to the side.

"You had your chance to ask questions."

"I did. But did I really get all the answers?"

"Your boss was happy with the story wasn't she?"

"That's not the same thing." Her hazel eyes gleamed.

I sat back as the pitcher and glasses arrived. "Are you two ready to order?" the server asked.

"Not quite." I smiled, wanting to be alone with Sydney.

"Ok, I'll give you a few more minutes." She hurried into the restaurant.  There were a few tables she was tending inside, but we were the only  ones sitting on the patio.

I grabbed the handle and poured the lime mixture into the glasses. "Try  this. I bet these will be the best margaritas on the Riverwalk."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" I tasted the drink, brimming with strong tequila.

"Change the subject like we weren't talking about something important and make it seem completely natural."

"Maybe in order to keep our arrangement we're going to need to respect that some topics might be off limits."

She frowned. "Off limits?"

"Yes. With your curiosity I suppose that's going to be difficult for you."

She shook her head. "No, maybe it's for the best. We're keeping things light, right?"

"Very."

The waitress returned and we ordered a heaping plate of nachos, tacos, and an extra bowl of guacamole.

"Do you think you'll be able to walk back in those things?" I pointed to her shoes when dinner was over.

"Yes, I want to walk. It's completely different down here at night."

"What do you mean?"

"It sounds silly, but it's more magical. The lights and the music. It feels different."

She was right, I had noticed how the air had changed since we left the  restaurant. The stuffiness was gone. The pretentiousness of the  priceless menus. The perfect dripless tapered candles. All of that was  staged elegance and romance.