Private Practice (Private Pleasures 1)

“Nice to meet you,” Ellie said.

“Always nice to meet one of Tyler’s friends,” Diane returned. “We just love him around here. C’mon.” Taking a couple menus from the hostess station, she led them to a quiet corner table on the outdoor dining deck floating above the Ohio River.

Once they were seated, Diane wished them a “memorable” evening, winked at Ellie and departed. The steady slap of water against the deck pilings filled the silence.

“She seems nice,” Ellie finally said, absently pushing the small votive candle around on the white linen tablecloth. The low light on the deck turned her brown eyes into deep pools he could get lost in.

“Diane? She is nice. I’ve known her a long time.” He could spend some serious time on Ellie’s mouth, too.

“Is ‘known her a long time’ a euphemism for ‘dated her’?” The question startled him out of his distraction with Ellie’s lips. Before he could answer, she winced. “Sorry, erase the question. Who you’ve dated is none of my business. New topic—”

“She’s a friend. I got to know her when I remodeled the first restaurant she managed.” He couldn’t say why her question—and her obvious discomfort about asking—stirred him up, but it did. It also renewed his curiosity about her underlying reason for the whole “sex tutor” deal. “Anything else you want to know?”

She shook her

head and opened her menu. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Because unlike some people, I’m an open book.”

She shut the menu. “And I’m not?”

Just then a waiter appeared and took their drink orders. When he left, Ellie crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair, and stared at him.

He stared right back, issuing a not-so-subtle challenge.

She blinked first and lowered her eyes. “How long have you had the bike?”

“Now we’re really getting personal. A long time.” Shrugging off a vague disappointment, he added. “Maybe too long.”

“Is there a statute of limitations on riding a motorcycle?”

“I’m learning yes, to some folks. But that’s a story for another time. Ever been here before?”

“No, never, but this is nice.” She stared out at the lights twinkling along the opposite bank of the river and breathed deeply. “Before I left for college, Bluelick’s version of fine dining meant Rawley’s or the place off the Double A with the statue of the husky kid in red-checked overalls.”

He laughed. “I save the kid in the overalls for the second date.”

“This isn’t really a date.”

“Says who? I see you, single, attractive female. Me, single, available guy. Moonlight and candles. What more do you need before you call it a date?”

“We have an arrangement,” she replied primly, and straightened in her chair, which only made him want to kiss her senseless.

“Wasn’t aware they were mutually exclusive. Maybe you should tell me what you’re really trying to accomplish with our arrangement.”

“I’ve already told you. New topic.”

“Ellie.”

“New topic,” she repeated. “How long has The Catch been here? I don’t remember anything except run-down old buildings.”

He held his response until the waiter served their drinks, then took a swallow of his iced tea before continuing. “About three years. My team did the renovations on this building, which were substantial considering we started with a neglected, century-old tobacco warehouse. We managed to rehab about sixty percent of the original structure.”

She looked around again. “Wow. You worked a miracle. The walls whisper with history, but at the same time, it’s comfortable and relaxed…and the view. I can understand why it’s such a popular spot.”

“Pretty view, plus they serve up the best shrimp and ribs you ever tasted.”

The waiter returned and asked if they were ready to order.