Bachelorette for Sale (5 page)

“Luckily, I believe all of the dragons are now extinct and we’ll never have to find out.”

She studied him over the rim of her glass. No, the prince was too Goody Two-Shoes for this guy. Jason wouldn’t play by the rules. He might have looked like the boy next door, but those laughing eyes and that scruff along his jawline firmly planted him as a rebel. “Ah, I don’t know why I didn’t see it right away. Iron Man.”

Jason sat up straight, tilted his head and looked at her. “No way. Captain America is cooler.”

Now, that was funny. So funny her laughter turned to wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. “Sorry, but no. I mean he’s cute and all righteous and heroic. But Tony Stark has it all: hot, I mean smoking hawt, rich, witty, intelligent, and he takes on gods. Hard to top that.”

They argued for a few more minutes, neither conceding.

“Baseball. Red Sox or Yankees?” Jason asked.

“Duh, Sox. Please don’t say Yankees or they might refuse to serve us dinner.”

“Are you kidding? The Sox are going to stomp all over those posers.”

“Whew.” Cherry mock wiped sweat off her brow. “You had me worried for a moment.”

They steered clear of topics like family and work and the show. They could save those for their second date. Whoa, now that got her attention. Most of the guys she’d met in the past year she hadn’t wanted to spend five minutes with. Thankfully he dropped the topic of her time in Hollywood. She’d prefer to forget she’d ever been on the show. If she had a super power it would be to turn back time. She would have never let Tawny talk her into the idea of finding her soul mate, the one guy who above all others could and would connect with her on a deeper level to accept her for who she truly was, warts and all, on a reality show.

She pushed the maudlin thoughts away to focus on the man in front of her, because while she no longer believed her Prince Charming existed, Jason Valentine wasn’t the toad she’d initially believed him to be.

“You and David have been friends since you were kids?”

“Yeah, it’s always been the three of us.”

“Three?” Crud, this was why she should stay focused.

“Brody?” His brow arched as his voice lifted at the end of the name. “Anyway, it’s always been Dave, Brody, and me. What one didn’t think of the other did, and we thought of a lot of things that got us in trouble. We were always together. Made it easy for our parents to find us. We’ve been friends since the first day of school.”

“The three amigos. Sounds like a fun way to grow up.”

“It had its moments. What about you?”

Her childhood had its moments—good, bad, and horrendous—and judging by the smirk on a certain chef’s face and the trembling lip of the waitress as she approached their table, it looked like she was about to experience another one. The waitress set the giant serving tray down on the stand and laid out Jason’s fajitas and the myriad of side dishes to go with it. Lastly, she reached for a plate and sat it in front of Cherry.

Looking down, Cherry inspected the interesting dish. It was pretty. Smelled delicious. The presentation was colorful and artfully arranged. However, it was most definitely not enchiladas banderas or enchiladas. “Excuse me. I believe you brought me the wrong dish. This is not what I ordered.” She gave the young girl a polite smile.

The waitress chewed on her lower trembling lip, twisting her fingers together. She would not meet Cherry’s gaze. “I have a message from the chef. You will eat what he makes for you and like it, or you can leave and never come back.” The poor thing’s voice squeaked several times like a scared mouse.

Cherry sat back and contemplated this latest play in the game while watching the girl. Clearly Jorge did not let the new waitress in on who Cherry really was, and the girl expected to have an irate customer on her hands. She didn’t know what Jorge was up to, but she’d find out in due time.

“What is this?”

“El Huarachito.”

“Tell Jorge I’ll eat his concoction out of respect for my dining companion. As to whether I’ll like it or not, that remains to be seen.”

Cherry poked at her food to determine what experimental dish she’d been served this time. Taking a bite, she struggled to keep the pleasure from showing on her face.

Jason filled his tortilla, watching her, waiting for her reaction. “Well, what’s the verdict?”

“Between you and me, absolutely wonderful. My answer to the chef, Jorge, is it’s okay. Otherwise his ego will take up the whole room and the rest of us will have no air to breathe. No worries, you can eat. The chef and I go way back and this is a ritual of ours.”

His laugh came out deep and rich and warm. The corners of his eyes crinkled and creases ran from his nose to his jaw, looking so natural she thought he must laugh often. “As long as you know what you’re doing, because I might have to kill someone if they try to take my food away right now.”

They talked about bad dining experiences as they ate and laughed. She told him about one guy she dated who would never take her anywhere except McDonald’s and another who took her to a new fad restaurant where everything was supposedly health food and she’d sworn the so-called salad was really cut grass. He told her about one date who begged to go to a French restaurant in Boston, proceeded to order escargot, and couldn’t understand why they tasted like dirt.

“I tried one,” he said. “I’ll try almost anything at least once, and yeah, they tasted like dirt and slime.”

“Okay, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten, other than snails?” Cherry scooped up another bite of the delicious dish.

He thought about it, tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m not sure if it’s weird or not, but definitely questionable. The guys and I took a trip to Thailand once, and none of us spoke the language. We ordered a bunch of stuff including what I think and hoped was pork. I asked the waitress how to say pork in Thai and she said ‘meow.’ I repeated the question and she nodded and said ‘meow’ and pointed to my dish.”

“Oh, no, you ate a kitty?” Cherry’s hand flew to her mouth, pretending she was going to lose her dinner.

“I can neither confirm nor deny. However, I did draw the line at the baby octopus that was still alive and moving around the plate.” With his fingers, he did a little imitation of the thing flipping around on the table.

Cherry couldn’t help laughing.

“That is so wrong.”

The conversation flowed easily and effortlessly, making Cherry forget why they were on the date. She found herself charmed by his smile, quick sense of humor, and ability to laugh at himself as well as the way his eyes focused on her instead of searching the room for a better view. They could have been the only people in the universe.

“I’m really glad David won the bidding,” Jason said.

“Me too.”

A shadow fell over the table to interrupt the moment. She looked up, not surprised to find Jorge standing next to her.

“I see you ate your dinner. You obviously liked it.”

“It was okay. I’ve had better.”

He sneered. “What do you mean it was okay? Where have you had better?” Such arrogance—the man really did think he was a culinary god gifted to the mortal world and they should all bow down.

Without batting an eye or missing a beat, she hit him below the belt. “Taco Bell.”

A string of Spanish flew out so fast from Jorge that Cherry couldn’t even follow what he was saying. His hands were up and down and back and forth, and it really took all of Cherry’s willpower not to burst out laughing and give herself away.

“I don’t believe you,” he spouted. “That was my mama’s recipe.”

“What can I say?” she said, feigning confusion. “You blew it, changed it, or left something out because if she’d made it, it would have tasted divine.”

He squinted at her, his hands fisted on his hips, nostrils flared, and she lost it. Laughter erupted from the depths of her gut. “Oh my gosh, you should see your face. It’s all red and scrunched up,” she gasped out between chuckles. “Jason, meet Jorge, or as we call him at home, George—Tawny’s oldest brother. Wow, I really got you that time.”

The guys shook hands. “Little sisters,” George said. “They grow up, but are still a pain in your rear, if you know what I mean.”

“George Torres?” Jason asked. When George nodded, he followed up. “Did you play wide receiver in high school for Central, about fifteen or so years ago?”

“That would be me. Did you play?”

“I was three years behind you, along with my buddies, Dave Farber and Brody Nichols. Last name’s Valentine.”

A smile spread across George’s face. “I remember. Now you’re here with our Cherry, small world.” George’s stance widened, arms crossed, all team rah-rah gone, and in its place stood the overprotective big brother.

Jason relaxed his shoulders and slouched back a little in his chair, hands resting on the table, palms up. “We met at the charity event for the rec center.”

George looked from Jason to Cherry and back to Jason, some kind of lightbulb clicking on in his head.

“So you’re the one who saved her from the lecherous old guy.” He reached out and clasped hands with Jason. “I appreciate it, man. You probably saved me a trip to the slammer because, Lord knows, I would have
killed
that guy. Hey, I’ve got to get back to my kitchen. Good to see you. Enjoy your night and take care of my little sister.” He squeezed Cherry’s shoulder before he disappeared behind the kitchen door.

Great, first decent date in ages and her big brother shows up. Chances of Jason putting the moves on her now? Slim to no way in this lifetime. What a shame, as he really did have an amazing mouth, one that was made to kiss a woman breathless, she was sure of it. And to feel those strong hands on her again. Oh, mama mia. She needed some air.

 

Jason was so dead. His best friend had signed the execution order and the schmuck didn’t even know it. Maybe if he killed Dave first and blamed the idea on his buddy, they’d let him live? He had no doubt that if he didn’t handle tonight correctly and Cherry got hurt, he’d have the entire Torres family on his doorstep. One more complication he didn’t need. He’d walked into tonight expecting one person and found someone totally different waiting for him.

He needed to clear the air, to come clean and tell her why he was really there. He had every intention to tell her at the start of dinner, but he’d been late. Not to mention he wasn’t the type who went around kicking puppies, and she’d had that lost puppy look standing in front of the fountain making her wish. So he waited. Then the accusation. He couldn’t tell her then—not unless he wanted her drink in his face.

Things between them were good. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do.

As much as he hated to admit it, he liked Cherry. She was fun, intelligent and had a wicked sense of humor. For the first time in longer than he wanted to remember he had enjoyed himself on a date without worrying about what the woman thought of his background or his job or if he measured up.

Keeping it from her is wrong
.

“Would you like to get out of here and take a walk? There’s a little café on the back side of the square that serves the most amazing cannoli and espresso. I can also promise no overbearing big brothers who spy through the kitchen doors.”

He followed her gaze in time to catch a glimpse of George slipping back into the kitchen. A niggling in the back of his brain told him no matter how he played this, he’d soon be a corpse. Might as well live a little and enjoy the evening with Cherry before her adopted brothers pounded him into the pavement.

She stood, and for the first time he noticed what she was wearing. Hard not to when his heart stopped beating and his jaw hung slack. The shirt, blouse, whatever you called it was one of those drapey things in a deep ocean blue, like the rims around her eyes. Sitting, it had been loose. Conservative. Standing, the material stretched to mold perfectly to her breasts, sending all the blood in his body rushing south. And as if that wasn’t enough to drive a man crazy, black jeans hugged the curves of her hips, begging him to run his hands down and explore.

Cold air would be good. Even better would be a cold shower or a dunk in the icy Atlantic.

A romantic entanglement with the woman he hoped to be working for shortly was neither what his company needed nor the goal of tonight, no matter what his pal said. The goal—in his mind—was to get her to see he was a decent guy, maybe like him a little, so when the time came for her to vote she’d cast her ballot for Valentine Rehab and convince her friends to do so as well. Sleeping with the boss never turned out well for anyone.

He had to tell her now. Or as soon as they were away from prying eyes.

He pushed the front door open for her and they stepped outside into the cool night air. A few people passed by on the sidewalk, but the waiting crowds were gone.

“Are you thinking of Pastiche Desserts?” Jason asked.

Cherry nodded and he led the way toward the piazza. Quickly they cut through the area, and turned the corner. There wasn’t a line out the door like there usually was during the summer, but inside the shop most of the tables were taken. “Do you mind if we grab our coffee and desserts to go? It’s kind of stuffy in here.”

“We could go sit by the fountain.”

That’d be good. No one had been out dining in the piazza tonight, with it being late winter and midweek. He’d have a chance to explain without interruptions why his idiot friend had bought this date.

They grabbed their coffee and bag of pastries and left the shop. A strange noise caught his attention as they made their way to the tables set up by the fountain. Looking around he realized Cherry’s teeth were chattering. It wasn’t that cold, but her blouse was on the thin side. Not that he would complain. He stepped closer to lend her some of his body heat. His hand brushed against hers and he found himself threading his fingers through hers.