Truth or Date (4 page)

The waiter didn’t seem as impressed, just quickly replied, “I’ll put the order in right away.”

I placed my napkin in my lap, thinking Ethan was getting more interesting by the minute.  “Where did you learn Italian?”

“Living in Italy, actually.” His face lit up at the topic. “In college, I spent my junior year abroad at this great apartment in Rome. I’ve only been back to Italy twice since so it’s been challenging to keep hold of the language.”

Only twice since college? Must be nice. I’d been to Europe, uh, never. My girlfriends and I had spent a long weekend in Cabo once though. That had been pre-George and pre-knowing my drinking limit with margaritas.

As Ethan rattled on about living in Italy—the tale about drinking his cappuccinos standing up instead of sitting (because it costs less, apparently) was quite entertaining, but the history on the ruins at The Roman Forum had my attention drifting—my eyes drifted toward the entrance and my heart stopped.

Chris Bradley had just walked in. And not alone. Standing next to him was the anti-Gina. Whereas I was five-foot, four-inches, she had to be at least five-eight. Loose dark curls framed my face, while her ebony strands were long, thick, and straight. And the way she was gazing up at him, I’m betting she wouldn’t make an issue of him suggesting Truth or Date like I had.

The waiter set a basket of bread on our table and Ethan paused after saying something about Julius Caesar.

“Uh-huh,” I said, then he continued on. Although I tried to focus on his excitement over Caesar’s letter to Cicero, like a magnet my eyes drifted to where Chris and his lunch date had been seated by the street window. No wonder he’d made it clear to me this dinner with his boss was a friend thing. Why wasn’t he taking the brunette beauty though?

“Gina?”

My head whipped back to my lunch date. “I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”

He finished chewing his bite. “If you’d studied much of Caesar.”

“Only the salad. I learned that I don’t like anchovies on it.” I wrinkled my nose, unsure if he’d get my sense of humor.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “My minor was in Italian studies and I tend to talk about Italy’s history more than the average person wants to know. What did you major in?”

“Frat parties.” I smiled and put my hands in my lap as the waiter set our dishes on the table. “And also Accounting.”

“Tell me about that.”

I gave Ethan the run down on my dad’s plastering business and how I’d learned to run his books in high school, which naturally fed my interest in accounting. He seemed engrossed listening to my background, which was sweet since it really wasn’t that extraordinary. The only way this lunch date could improve would be if I could stop glancing at Chris’s table. Suddenly, Chris’s date rose from her chair and strode toward the restroom. When I looked back toward Chris, our gazes locked.

He’d caught me spying on him!

My face heated and I turned back to Ethan as casually as possible. “What was I saying?”

Ethan’s brows came together. “Someone you know?”

“What?” I reached for my water. “Oh, over there? Just a person I work with. Well, used to work with. He’s given notice and . . . yeah.”

“Really.” Ethan looked in Chris’s direction and I concentrated on the ice-cold liquid going down my throat as I drained my glass. “He’s heading over here.”

I choked on the water and covered my mouth.

“Gina. Fancy meeting you here.” Chris’s spry tone sent unwanted vibrations through me. He fixed an intent stare on Ethan. “Hi. Chris Bradley. Gina and I work for the same company.”

“Not for long, I hear.” Ethan accepted Chris’s outstretched hand. “Ethan Harrison.”

If Chris had noticed my date’s icy tone, his face didn’t show it. “Sad but true.” His quick retort made it unclear if he was answering Ethan’s question or commenting on his name. Why had I chosen a restaurant so close to work?

The sudden tension at the table felt thick, but I couldn’t stop myself from peering up at Chris. “I hear you and Cyndi broke up. Who’s the new girl?”

Something odd passed through Chris’s eyes, then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Tina’s the Human Resource Manager for my new company. She’s explaining my benefits over lunch but I’m guessing dating her is not included in the package. I can ask though, if you’re curious.”

Now my cheeks were on fire. “I’m not.”

Chris glanced back at his table. Tina had returned and was watching us with obvious curiosity.

“Well, I’d better get back.” He took a retreating step. “You two enjoy your lunch.”

“We will.” Ethan’s voice was firm. After Chris left, he lifted his fork. “Former flame?”

“Chris?” My eyes bulged as if the thought were ludicrous. Which it was since his gig was playing the field—with everyone but me, that is. “No. Not even close.”

He raised his brows as if surprised. “Interesting. He seemed a bit territorial over you.”

“I don’t think so.” Although Chris
had
given me an intense look, which made no sense. Those blue eyes were hard to stop thinking about but I managed to finish the last bite of my salad, which did not leave me satisfied. Just like I wasn’t satisfied not knowing what Chris’s look meant. But when Ethan asked for the check I decided not to order anything else. “You’re nice, Ethan. I’m glad Kristen introduced us.”

“Me, too.” He leaned forward, wearing an easy smile. “She met you because you’re both in the same wedding. Is that right?”

“Yes.” My neck went stiff as female laughter echoed from the direction of Chris’s table. “We’re actually roommates now.”

“That’s what I heard.” He reached for the check as soon as the waiter set it down. “How’s living with Kristen?”

“It’s . . . a lesson in compromise.” I laughed, realizing how true that was. “But we’re having a good time. Thanks for lunch.”

 “Anytime.” He set a few bills in the check folder, pushed it to the side of the table, then leaned on an elbow. “What about dinner Friday night? If you’re free, that is. I know it’s short notice.”

My insides glowed at the invitation. “Actually, we have the rehearsal dinner Friday night.”

“I see.” He kept his eyes on me as the waiter took the bill. “Saturday night?”

“Is the wedding.” The reason Kristen had introduced us in the first place. Here was my chance. I’d screened him. Charming. Considerate. And apparently eager to see me again. I’d been quite comfortable with him all evening, with the exception of his bacon comment. I bit my lip, but for some reason couldn’t pull the trigger on inviting him to be my date to the wedding. Suddenly, Chris’s intense blue eyes invaded my mind, warming my belly. I frowned. “How about dinner tomorrow night? I know it’s not the weekend, but—”

“I’d love to,” Ethan said. We both smiled at the same time, then rose from the table. He came up beside me, his arm shadowing my lower back as we strolled toward the exit.

Every ounce of me ached to scan Chris’s table to see if he and the gorgeous brunette were indeed discussing business, but I refused to look. It was time for me to make the hard decisions and grow up, which included ignoring the same impulses that had led me wrong last time.

CHAPTER FOUR

Standing in front of the three-way mirror at Blissfully Bridal for my second dress fitting, I stared at the elegant red gown which, this time, was way too big on me. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time. “Please tell me we’re almost finished?”

Ellen pinched some fabric together on my back, which smoothed out a miniscule crease on the bodice of my gown. “Not quite.”

“Out of pins.” The exotic seamstress, Kathia, huffed as she rose from her kneeling position and patted my arm. “I’m gonna be right back. Try not to move, hon. We don’t want you to bleed on the dress.”

“I’ll help.” Ellen hurried after the seamstress, needing to supervise every job related to the wedding—no matter how tiny.

Although, if she’d been supervising my calorie intake the last few months then we wouldn’t be here (having a size ten made into an eight) and I’d be at home getting ready for my friend-date like I was supposed to be. Not that I’d ever give up my new beau for a smaller dress size. Cookie Dough Ice Cream had proved to be a delectable companion.

But I didn’t want Chris to look bad in front of his new boss by making him late. Unfortunately, I couldn’t call to tell him I’d been held up by a super anal bride because I’d inadvertently left my cell in the car.

I tapped my heeled foot and turned to Rach, who was sitting cross-legged in a white satin-covered chair playing with her phone. “How much more can they possibly tweak this dress? It figures Ellen would find someone as finicky as her. I’m beginning to have empathy for pin cushions.”

“You know how Ellen is.” Rach ran her fingers across her cell’s screen. “It has to be perfect with a capital P.”

I frowned. “Who are you texting?”

“Nobody. Just cruising the net looking for coupons.” She pressed an icon on the screen. “After this, Ellen and I are hitting the mall to swimsuit shop for her Hawaiian honeymoon. Should be relatively low-stress, compared to this anyway, if you want to come.”

“Can’t. I have a dinner thing.” Lifting my wrist, I checked the time again. “I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes. How long does it take to get a few measly pins? I already don’t have time to go home and change let alone touch up my make-up and hair.”

“We’re lucky Kathia squeezed us in this late on a Wednesday night. You know how booked her schedule is.” Then, she paused. “Wait, who are you going out with? A guy?”

More like a hot guy. Who’s sweet, makes me smile when he teases, and who finds all girls datable except me. “Chris Bradley.”

She squealed. “You asked him out like I told you? I’m so proud!”

“It’s not like that at all.” I raked my fingers though my hair, trying to (unsuccessfully) bring the flattened curls to life again. “He and I were playing Truth or Dare and—”

“Sounds sexy.” Her phone went back in her handbag and she gave me her full attention. “When did that happen? And don’t spare even the smallest detail.”

“Stop.” I threw her a look that said gimme-a-break. “You know I’m not interested in Chris.”

“You’re a girl, you’re single, and you have eyes.” Her hands fisted her in lap. “So once again, I ask, why not?”

“Hmmm.” I twisted toward her, jerking back when I felt a poke in my hip. “Let’s see, Alisha, Grace, Carol, Christa, Megan—”

“Are girls he’s dated. In the past. So? You were with George. What did you expect a young, successful, attractive guy to do? Live a celibate life, hoping your very long-term and seeming-to-have-no-end relationship would suddenly come to an end?”

Would that be so wrong?

“Of course not.” I rolled my eyes to show how ludicrous the thought was. “A girlfriend or two would be a different story though. It’d show that he wants relationships, not just the nearest pretty face. Do you want me to waste another decade of my life on Mr. Wrong?”

“With Chris?” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know. That’d be a mighty fun decade.”

The image of Chris’s hand popped into my mind. Smooth. Tan. Strong. I shivered. “Here’s a more likely scenario: We date for a month, I fall for him, then I’m crushed when he’s bored and moves on to the next girl?” My heart ached at the mere thought. “You have to agree that
is
his pattern.”

Rach twisted her mouth to the side. “He was with Cyndi over a month, I think.”

Now she was reaching. “Two months then. Whatever. I want more than he has to offer. You should understand where I’m coming from. Don’t you want to get married and have kids one day?”

“Yes.” She crossed her legs and withdrew her cell again. “Unfortunately, I can’t find a man who won’t sleep with my hairdresser.”

“Ugh.” I groaned. Rachel’s ex was such a louse. “At least George never stooped that low.”

“How low?” Ellen reappeared with Kathia and they began attacking the gown again. “What are we talking about?”

“Cheating.” I peeked at the time. “Ellen, the dress looks great and, I hate to say this, but I have somewhere to be.”

“We’re almost done.” She crouched down to where the hem swept the floor, pointed to a spot near the slit, and Kathia went at it. Ellen gazed up at me, concern in her eyes. “Who’s cheating on who?”

“Jeremy,” I said. “Old news.”

Rachel sighed. “Can we make it a rule to never again bring up the J word?”

“Deal.” I couldn’t help wondering if Chris had overlapped any of the girls he’d dated. “Rach? Do you have Chris’s number in your phone?”

She gave me a weird look. “Why would I have his number?”

Her defensive tone made me wonder. “Calm down. I just need to tell him not to pick me up at my house. He’s supposed to be there in eight minutes and you know . . .”

I gestured toward the ladies crouching down at my already well-fitted dress.

“I believe we have it.” Kathia spoke through a mouthful of pins. “What do you think, Ellen?”

We all gazed in the center mirror at the striking, red, strapless number and held our breaths, waiting for the bride’s decision. With the (many) pins, it flowed over my curves without a single wrinkle, crinkle, or flaw. The dress looked amazing. Well, according to me anyway. We’d have to hear the boss’s conclusion.

Ellen’s expression was unreadable. I fought not to bounce on my heels as the minutes ticked by and I sensed the very real possibility that we’d be spending all night tailoring this gown.

She skirted around the dress, eyeing every inch up and down. Finally, her gaze flew to Kathia, to Rachel, then landed on me. Her face broke with emotion and she put both hands to her cheeks as tears filled her eyes. “It’s just perfect. B-Beautiful.”

I let out a whoosh, ready to un-zip out of this thing. “Thank goodness.”

Instead of letting me skidaddle, Ellen pulled me into a crushing bear-hug and refused to let go. She let out a sob. “Oh, Gina.”

I pulled back, pushing her dirty-blonde locks away from her face, trying to gauge what was going on. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I-I think it just finally hit me. I’m getting married in four days.”

Witnessing her tears of joy, my throat suddenly tightened and my own eyes watered. “You’re supposed to be smiling. You and Henry will have the world’s most perfectly organized wedding.”