Truth or Date (7 page)

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.”

He gave me a suspicious side-glance. “How do I know that?”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” My fingers brushed his cheek and his icy blue eyes simmered. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

When I turned to go, he held my arm, his eyes darkening. “You look gorgeous, by the way. As always.”

Warmth flooded through me. “Thanks.”

His eyes trailed over me one last time. “Since you’re already here, let’s meet out front at eight instead of your place.”

Before I had a chance to respond, he backed away and disappeared into the men’s room. I grabbed the wall as I swayed a little. Even though we were role playing, the exchange frazzled my nerves as if we were a couple who’d had our first fight and then made up. Intense would be a good word for the whirlwind that just happened between us.

Not wanting Chris to find me standing here when he came out, I inhaled deeply then headed back to my date.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Saying goodnight to Ethan had been all kinds of awkward since he wanted to walk me to my car, but I wasn’t going to the car because my next date was already here, on the back deck and, oh yeah, Ethan didn’t like him. Finally, I made up an excuse about needing to use the restroom (again), gave him a brief hug (man, those muscles were firm), and assured him that he didn’t need to wait for me. It had to be one of the oddest departures in history.

After touching up my lipstick and fluffing my hair in the ladies room, I slipped out onto the back deck where the band’s music pulsed through me in a vibrating hum. Man, the radio was right. They were good.

Chris and John sat at a table near the railing and were just paying their bill.

I adjusted the purse handle on my shoulder. “Hi, guys.”

“Hi.” Chris finished signing his bill then gestured between John and me. “You remember Gina from last night.”

John gaped in a way that said he barely recognized me from last night. Definitely had to thank Rach for her fashion advice.

The three of us headed out of the restaurant together then strolled down the sidewalk passing old-fashioned buildings housing various restaurants, a candy shop, toy store, comedy club, and more. I loved the charm of Old Sac. It made me all warm and gooey inside. We made small talk along the way . . . well, mostly John did the talking. Chris was actually acting kind of aloof . . . a first for him.

“This is where we’re meeting everyone.” John stopped in front of a brick building with wooden doors painted green and white around the small window panes. “O’Malley’s.”

Recognizing the Irish pub, my smile spread wide and I turned to Chris. “Isn’t this the place we all came after the company picnic last year? That was such a blast.”

Despite my excitement over the fun memory, he merely nodded without meeting my eyes and held open the door for John and me to go through first. I bit my lip and frowned, wondering what was up with Chris’s odd behavior.

“There they are.” John led the way, waving to a guy and two girls who swiveled toward us in their high back bar stools. “Hey, Bill, Wanda, Tina.”

My shoulders tensed as Chris and I approached the table and Ms. H.R.’s long legs—one crossed over the other— came into view. Could her skirt
be
any shorter? Yeah, we were out of the office, but still.

Bill waved immediately. “Pull up a chair.”

We ordered some beers, then joined them at the table. Not surprisingly, Ms. H.R. invited Chris to sit next to her. Whatever. He was barely talking to me anyway. Not sure what I did, but John sat on the other side of me and seemed friendly enough.

It turned out John and I both went to school at Sac State and we exchanged stories about a couple of mutual professors we’d had in general studies. He majored in Sociology, having no idea what he wanted to do, and somehow ended up in software sales. I laughed at his tales of changing multiple careers after grad since I’d been interested in accounting practically since birth.

A couple hours later, Wanda started yawning and suggested we call it a night. Outside the entrance we parted ways with the others, leaving Chris and me alone.

****

We ambled down the sidewalk, passing the first block without talking until I decided to break the silence. “I liked getting to know everyone.” Well, with the exception of Ms. H.R. who clearly had the hots for my pretend boyfriend and wore skirts that should be rated R. “You’re gonna be working with some great people so that should put you at ease that the change will go smoothly. Did you have a good time?”

He shrugged. “Good enough.”

I didn’t want to press into his private business, even as his pretend girlfriend, but I’d never seen him so quiet before. “Something’s clearly bothering you. Did you get a hate text at dinner or something?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “A what?”

“Bad news. I don’t know.” Seeing him smile a bit felt refreshing and as we passed a bar I’d never been to I suddenly had an idea. “Want to get another drink?”

“You mean now?”

“Come on.” Being brave, I laced my arm through his. “My treat,
honey
.”

Both corners of his mouth turned up now. “In that case . . . ”

We exchanged a smile as Chris held the door open for me, then we got drinks at the bar and took them to a round green vinyl booth in the back corner. Not too many people in here—an older couple facing each other on bar stools, a young guy by the front window drinking alone and texting on his phone, and a few guys at a table with their eyes glued to some sports replay on TV—but not completely dead for a Thursday.

I glanced around and spotted an actual jukebox on the back wall—no joke—and I made Chris get some change from the bar while I eyed the songs. No songs were going right now so we controlled the playlist. Sweet.

The jukebox, it turns out, had a wide selection of music—current and old. I pressed my lips together. “Hmm. . . What’re we feeling?”

“Something upbeat. I’ll pick.” Wearing a smirk, he bumped his hip against mine, moving me aside so he could make the selection. I gasped. Oh, no way. I shoved my shoulder into his arm (since he was a bit taller than me), inching myself in front of the glass to view the options and the battle over the buttons began. The back and forth nudging didn’t last long, but I found myself breathless from the feel of Chris rubbing against me. We’d never done
that
in the office.

I won—though I’m guessing he let me, because he’s like six feet and in shape and I’m five-six and, well, not. I quickly chose an album by The Fray. Seconds later, the slow and steady piano notes of
Never Say Never
rang out and I slid back into our rounded booth ahead of him, a victorious smile plastered across my face. “Thanks for letting me decide, honey. You rock my world.”