That wasn’t part of the plan.
“So. What are your thoughts on day drinking?” she asked.
Disappointment flashed across his face at her easy dismissal of his freelance work. It had obviously been important to him, and she’d blown it off like he’d mentioned the weather. Grace ignored the stab of remorse that he probably wouldn’t be spilling his guts to her anytime soon.
“I could do a little European-style wine with lunch,” he said finally.
The statement was completely innocuous, but the expression on his face made it clear that wine could be substituted with something else. Something far more decadent.
Yup, the text message had done its job, all right. Jake Malone had sexy times on the brain.
She demurely glanced down at the wine list, knowing that the camera would capture the blatant invitation on his face, even as it missed the butterflies in her stomach.
Keep it up, Malone.
The server came over to ramble about the wine list, and Grace settled on overpriced Montepulciano. Camille would likely fuss, but Grace was pretty sure Camille would let her order the entire menu if it meant victory in this stupid little Stiletto-versus-Oxford game.
Which Grace was well on the way to achieving.
“So, I have to say, I’m a little surprised you’re so okay with everything,” Jake said, after they’d gone through the whole stiff swirl-and-sip routine with the wine. “After the way I portrayed you in the article …”
“Oh, you mean as a needy, heartbroken train wreck?”
He grinned. “More or less.”
Grace gave a little shrug, noting the way his eyes found her breasts. The girls were more covered up this time, but the sleeveless top was stretched just a tiny bit too tight across the chest. Not enough to be considered an open invitation, but definitely enough to call his attention to all the right places.
She took a tiny sip of wine. “Well, as you read in my article, it was more than a little embarrassing to learn that our last meeting was nothing but a sham. But that was last month, so …”
“Grace—”
He reached a hand across the table, but she jerked hers back before he could make contact. At her rejection, he rapped the table lightly with his knuckles in frustration before leaning back.
“It wasn’t like that,” he said quietly.
She pursed her lips and pretended to be attempting to recall his article. As though it weren’t totally ingrained in her mind already. “It wasn’t like that? Really? Because I seem to remember reading something along the lines of, ‘Grace Brighton may have been determined not to like me, but like most women, all it took was one impeccably timed compliment and she was eating out of my hand.’ ”
His eyes went regretful. “My phrasing was for the sake of the story. You know that.”
“So when you said that the date was better than most—that wasn’t just a line?”
Jake’s eyes flicked briefly to the basket full of warm bread. Guilty.
She’d known it was coming, but it stung all the same. Still, they had an audience. Not exactly the time to confess that his ploy had stung a lot more than her pride.
They were both saved by the waiter, and after ordering their lunch, Jake leaned forward slightly, his easy smile back in place.
“Can we talk about that text you sent?” he asked, voice huskier than it had been before.
Grace let her eyes fall demurely to the table. “The one where I mentioned that I had a dream about you?”
She heard the sound of Julie’s stunned laughter in her ear, followed by a horrified, “Oh, Grace.”
Grace didn’t feel any remorse about the suggestive text, though. She’d needed to bait the man. So yeah, she may have implied she’d had a sexy dream about him …
“I admit, you’ve got me curious about the details of this dream,” he said when she didn’t immediately elaborate.
She licked her lips as though nervous and embarrassed. “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything. I just got out of a relationship, so I’m a little … parched, you know?”