Chasing Temptation (13 page)

She reached for her glass, taking a sip of water as he searched for a response.

He mimicked her movements, sipped some water then cleared his throat. “You've summed it up quite well. If you knew the tap and dance why'd you come?”

“First, would you have taken no for my final answer? Second, this is a date disguised as a business dinner. I don't fight temptation, usually, but with you it seems like a sound idea. I can't help but look at you and want you, but you don't want to hear any of that. You want to pretend this is business as usual. Fine by me, but tell those lies to yourself and don't try to make me believe them.”

He sat back in his chair, taking her measure. “Are you always this frank?”

The admiration was in the tone. Her face heated. Oh, wow. He'd made her blush.

“Always,” she kept her tone even.

The conversation ended there when the waiter brought the menus. Before they could pick it up again, the woman returned with their drinks and fresh slices of French bread. The tangy scent of yeast and butter rose from the basket.

Lynne took her time peeling off the flour-flaked edge. “Are we at an impasse again?”

“I believe so.” He frowned at the bread in her hand then just at her. “I don't know. I'm not quite sure, um, how to go about this.”

For a man who knew his place in the world and believed he knew everyone else's, this had to be painfully uncomfortable for him. For that alone, she lifted out of her seat, crooking a finger for him to lean closer.

“Kiss me now, and worry about the details later.”

Nate obliged, but with trepidation. The tip of his tongue tested the contours of her mouth as though he were trying out a new wine. Before taking a full sip of her, he needed to know if she was full-bodied, or if her finish would leave an appealing aftertaste.

He deepened the kiss, and she sighed. Lynne could have told him she was a fabulous vintage. Lynne wished she could like him less for his need to know for himself. She didn't, so when he pressed harder, tempting her mouth to part, she opened willingly.

Much like the bubbles in the champagne flutes, the way he used his tongue and teeth went straight to her head. She held on to the table, because—dear God—he was making her swoon.

Someone cleared her throat. Clearly they'd been caught. Lynne hadn't wanted the kiss to end. She wanted to know if she would actually swoon.

Without an ounce of shame, Lynne nodded to the waitress.
Nate ran a hand over his tie and sat down. Lynne did the same.

“That was fast,” Lynne commented.

The waitress had the good sense not to comment on what she'd interrupted as she settled the plates in front of them. “Anything else?”

A fan? That request would be inappropriate, so Lynne shook her head. The silence that followed made her uneasy.

Nate cleared his throat. “I can't watch
Steel Magnolias
. I know I'm supposed to be a man and men don't cry.”

She frowned. “Who told you that?”

“Where I grew up, men didn't cry.”

“Where is that?”

“But I have to act like something's in my eye when the funeral scene plays.”

He’d completely ignored the question. Ah, yes, they could reveal secrets about themselves, but not talk about deep stuff. The stuff that made you realize life was in fact shitty for some. Get personal, but not intimate. It was already too late for that.

And sooner or later one of them would have to give up their soul. The realization shouldn't have sent a pang of yearning through her, but it did. Probably better this way, if they didn't get intimate.

She said, “I always go through a box of tissues when I watch
Forrest Gump
. The scene when he asks Jenny if his son is just like him...buckets of tears.”

The ease of being together never came back. They finished their meals with filler conversation. They were on their best behavior, never toeing the line of intimate again. On the ride back, they finished the champagne, but the words they refused to speak overshadowed everything else. Lynne simply couldn't take it anymore.

Thankfully, by then, they were a few blocks away from her house. “Have the driver stop.”

“Why?”

“Have him stop, please. I want to walk the rest of the way.”

He did without another question, but when they stopped he got out with her, closing the door behind him. He gave the driver a tip. “I'll be walking with her.”

“No—” Too late. The car drove off without Nate in it.

With a shake of his head, he said, “If you haven't noticed, I'm a gentleman.”

The unease still clung to the air around them, but she chuckled anyway at the image he presented.

“There is nothing gentle about you,” she said. “You're what people call a still well where waters run deep. Or something like that. I want to know what's beneath those waters. I could guess, and trust me, I'm really good at it.”

“Why?”

She started to walk, and he matched her steps.

“You want to know all about me, but not share anything back. Why? If you say 'it's business' I'm hitting you,” she said.

“It's hard,” the words came out haltingly. “I don't reveal certain things with people I don't know or trust.”

“True, but you don't exactly put out a sign that says ‘open up to me.’ You'd rather not...” she searched for the word. “Get entangled.”

“And you do? How many people here know your background? Who here knows the real Lynne?”

No one
. “I guess I'm the pot, and you're the kettle.”

Her heels echoed in the night for a few moments. The silence wasn't filled with unease this time, but something different. Something they shouldn't mess with, but Lynne had never learned to leave things alone.

“You grew up poor, didn't you?” she asked.

“And you grew up rich.”

They turned on to Main Street. Two more blocks before she made it home. She stepped in front of him. The streetlight cast their silhouettes along the pavement.

“Tell me why you want my store, and I'll consider your offer.”

The shadows behind his eyes were much darker than the night around them. He took another step toward her, putting his chest against hers. “Nice location.”

She caught the flicker behind his gaze. “Lie.”

“It has potential to be a very lucrative venture. In my hands.”

He held his breath, giving her the sign. “Another lie.”

“Those aren't lies.”

“Those aren't the reasons you want it.”

Nate shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. She noted the nervous gesture too.

“You're giving yourself away,” she said.

He lowered his head so they were eye-to-eye. “That's what I'm trying to avoid.”

He straightened, offered his arm to her. “Let me walk you home, and we can argue some more tomorrow. I think you're right. This is a date. It's not often I get the chance to walk a beautiful woman home and give her a goodnight kiss at the door. Although I'd be hoping for more.”

Lynne wanted to refuse the momentary truce. She wanted to know what gave him those shadows. Lynne was in too deep. She wanted things she had no right to think about, much less crave.

She placed her hand on his outstretched arm. “If you tell me more secrets during the next two blocks, I'll let you grope me too. It's not often I'm walked home by a handsome man.”

“Groping?” He sounded hopeful. “Now I haven't done that since high school.”

“It's a lost art with people our age.”

“You make us sound ancient.”

Some days Lynne felt that way. “Do we have a deal?” She offered him a handshake.

He placed a soft kiss in her palm, putting it back on his forearm. “When I'm in a hotel, late at night, I watch
Sex and the City
reruns. The scenes with Samantha are almost as good as porn.”

“Why don't you just order some?”

“With my luck, my bill would have a glitch that shows the exact name of the movie. And,” he added with emphasis, “I'd get someone old enough to be my grandmother to check me out.”

“Sounds like my luck. One time I tried to order
Good Will Hunting
. I pushed the wrong button. Trust me. You don't want to know what was ordered instead.”

She glanced at him. The shadows weren't gone, but a smile played at the edges of his mouth. It was enough.

Lynne entered the kitchen to find her mom had cooked a breakfast that could feed five people. The situation had taken a darker and more twisty spiral. She'd now have to deal with it.

Consequence of following her nose instead of ducking out, but too late now. She settled into one of the mismatched chairs surrounding the table. A place was already set. Thankfully her mother had forgone turning the cloth napkin into the White House.

Eloise had clipped back her hair, had one of the aprons on, and from Lynne's viewpoint, dinner thawed in the sink. If this scene had been given music foreshadowing doom, it would be reaching a crescendo.

“Mom?” Lynne asked, but mentally winced.

“Your father is a pigheaded, overbearing, know-it-all.”

Lynne would have been fine without ever knowing about her parents' marital issues, but her mother had already started to pile food onto a plate. Listening was required in order to eat.

She muttered, “I could have told you that eons ago.”

“Yes, but he's your father. He's supposed to be all those things to make you a better person.” Eloise held the plate back. “Did you wash your hands?”

“As soon as I smelled the bacon.”

Eloise huffed and put the plate down. “Do you know what he said to me?”

“I wasn't eavesdropping on the conversation, so no, I don't know.”

“It's too early in the morning for sarcasm, Lynne Marie.”

Lynne shoved food into her mouth, because levity in this situation wasn't on the menu.

Eloise washed her hands and started to attack the meat in the sink. “He completely ignored the fact I left him. Instead, he told me about his latest venture.”

Her father may not be aware of warning signs, but he didn't ignore blatant words. Lynne swallowed. “Have you told him you left?”

“He should know. I said I was here with you for an undetermined length of time.”

“Exactly in that tone?” Her mother nodded, and Lynne shoved more food in her mouth to keep from saying anything.

“What? I know that look.”

She wasn't going to answer. Lynne was going to get to the bottom of the plate as fast as she could.

“Oh, so you're on his side?” Eloise's tone left no room for doubt that she had causalities in mind. The roast in the sink wasn't going to be enough of a sacrifice.

She chugged the orange juice. “I don't want to get in the middle of it. I'm grown. I shouldn't have to choose between parents. Dad has been this way for years. You've been happy with him.”

“I'm unhappy and it's my fault?”

The bacon had been the first to go, now Lynne was on the chopping block.

Lynne might as well go for broke. “From what it sounds like, you didn't tell him in a clear and concise manner that he can understand. I left you, because you're workaholic.” Lynne offered the example with raised brows. “He probably thinks you just want my company until he gets back home.”

Eloise whirled away from the sink to the cabinets, pulling out more pots and pans. She turned on Lynne again. “What kind of man doesn't get the hint when you say ‘undetermined amount of time'.”

“Apparently...Dad.”

The pressure valve seemed to be released after the statement. Eloise’s movements became graceful again. “You think I should tell him I left?”

“Put the ball in his court.” Lynne saw the fear behind Eloise's gaze.

That was the problem with falling for a man who could only see the bottom line with clarity. Lynne wasn't going to draw any comparisons to her situation with Nate. She wasn't falling for him. She wanted to roll around the sheets and make them sweaty, not dream of happily ever after. Long ago, she had accepted she would never be someone's home and hearth.

That was fine.

No, really.

Her mother opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again.

Lynne took her opportunity. “Thanks for breakfast. I should be home around eight.”

As fast as she got up and out the door, she probably made a whooshing sound.

Wasn't long before she was stepping inside Hart and Style. Lynne welcomed the quiet, the peace that always came over her when she entered the store before opening. The calm before the storm.

Lynne knew her place within these walls. There were never serious doubts or regrets. If anything went wrong today, she had tomorrow and a clean slate. Someone knocked on the glass window and like before, broke the moment. She plastered a smile on her face, nonetheless. It turned sincere when she saw Jeremy.

“You're here early.” She noted he couldn't take the grin off his face. “And happy. Things are going well between you and Sylvia?”

“She wants it to be just sex. I'm happy to appease her for the moment.”

“And oblige.”

“Goes without saying. How did the date go?” he asked, throwing the question over his shoulder as he headed to her office.

She followed him. “Good, crappy, unexpected. Several other adjectives I can't wrap my mind around, because my mother is slowly losing her mind. She's cooking roast tonight. I need to invite you, or by the end of her stay you may have to butter up the doors and push me in.”

“No problem. Can I bring Sylvia?” He plopped into the chair in her office.

Lynne sat on the edge of the desk, legs crossed. “This sounds serious. I know she was worried about Nate finding out. Are you sure she's going to come?”

“I can convince her.”

She had dealt with enough problems this morning, might as well add one more. “If she doesn't?”

“She will,” he replied. A stubborn line creased his brows.

Lynne lifted her hands in the air. “I'll leave it alone. I have to call my dad before my mother goes to the grocery store. Things will get ugly if she goes there. She was soufflé mad this morning.”

“When you mother's angry, she bakes soufflés?”

“My mother will cook until she finds a solution to her problem, my dad being the problem at the given moment. Worse, I know my father. She'll make it halfway through the French cuisine cookbook I've got on the counter.”