Chapter Eight
Candace
Gentle jazz music envelopes us as the waiters place two little bowls of crème brûlée on our table.
I thank them as they clear away the empty plates that used to contain the to-die-for two-course meal of salmonrillettes andFrench roast beef with spring vegetables.
Of course, Jacques arranged for us to eat on the rooftop of the restaurant.In the mingle of the moonlight and the ambient glow of the amber lights around us, he looks striking.Deadly handsome and completely interested in me.
I came prepped to talk about Bordeaux.That’s where Jacques grew up and spends most of his time when he’s away.Located in the South West of France, Bordeaux is world-famous for its vineyards and elegant wine.ChâteauBelmont with its impressive 50 hectares of Cabernet Sauvignon andMerlot grapes on the six hundred-year-oldvineyard has had its own contribution to that fame.
Since I went to Bordeaux a few times and loved it, I could carry on a pleasant conversation with ease.
Jacques watches me as I dip my spoon into my crème brûléeandtake a bite.It’s delicious, but I’m full and I can’t possibly eat any more.It’s also time for me to go home.I’d allowed two hours exactly minus travel time, just as a way of keeping him on his toes.
His lips arch into a grin when he sees me attempting another bite and giving up.
“I didn’t think you’d be able to eat that, but I’m impressed you tried,” he states.
“Thank you. I hate wasting great food.” I take a sip of the sweet wine.It too is gorgeous, but I’ve forgotten the name.It was he who ordered it for me.
“Great food? It’s good to hear you think so.This restaurant holds my grandfather’s recipes.He’s a man who appreciates flavor.Just like me.”
I don’t miss the way his gaze roams over my body, his eyes undressing me.
“Wow, well, I can’t exactly dispute that.You do.” I nod with a little smile and set my spoon down.“Much as I’d love to stay and try to finish my gorgeous dessert, I have to dash.”
My words have the exact result I hoped for.Curiosity and surprise fill his eyes, and it’s clear he can’t figure me out.I’ve said everything he’s not used to, and most of all I haven’t thrown myself at him.It’s been him chasing me this whole time, making quite the effort.
“Dash? As in go home?”
“It’s a work night,” I reply, and he laughs.
“And since when has a work night been reason enough to cut an evening short?”
“Mr. Belmont, I take my work very seriously.”
“I can see that mademoiselle; Massimo is very lucky to have you.I’m just trying to remember the last time a woman told me she had to dash because it’s a work night.”
I humor him with laughter. “Well, it’s not every day you meet a girl like me.”
“No, it certainly is not.” That twinkle comes back to his eyes as he takes me in with admiration.“There’s no way under the sun you’ll agree to go home with me tonight, is there?”
Underneath the table, I clutch on to the edge of my dress and plaster that smile of confidence on my face.
“No, Mr. Belmont. There is not.”
His smile turns up a notch, and he rests his elbows on the table.“Why? Why not?”
“You’re going to have to do more work than coffee and dinner to get me to your house.”
“What if the bulk of my work is reserved for the bedroom?”
I’m not surprised by that comment.Not even a little. As such, I’m able to keep a straight face.Beneath the mask of that face, though, I’m almost grateful this isn’t real.Not a real date and not a real guy I’m interested in.If any part of this was real, this would be the part where my memories of Dominic would prevent me from going further than coffee and dinner.
Once I sleep in this beast’s bed, however, it won’t matter if anything was real or not.
“Jacques, I’m terribly sorry to inform you that I need more than that to get to your bedroom.” I brighten my smile.