I Kissed A Playboy (6 page)

Once seated, Faith was unable to focus her attention on Brian. The revolving restaurant offered a view of the entire city. Faith knew she couldn’t afford to be in the building, let alone dine there. That the cuisine was Italian, had her questioning whether or not Brian was treating her or competing with Paulo’s Pizzas.

The entire menu was written in Italian. Trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, Faith continued feeling foolish having to ask Brian to decipher the menu.

‘I can order for you, if you’re an easy eater with no special requirements.’

As the words came out of his mouth he realized the beautiful, competent Faith would interpret the offer as demeaning.

‘It’s only that, I love this place and it’d be great if you did as well. I figured if I ordered the best dishes for us, maybe you can share my love.’

He’d never previously felt obligated to explain his actions to a woman. To his ears the words sounded clingy and desperate. Like a virgin teenager trying ineptly to woo an older woman. Brian was a prize. Handsome, wealthy, well traveled, amiable and fun loving—what wasn’t for women to like. Somehow though he knew those qualities didn’t hold much weight with Faith.

‘That sounds fine, but I choose dessert.’

‘Of course. A lady’s prerogative. Of course dessert doesn’t have to be served here. You could choose an alternative place to indulge in after dinner delectations.’

He was far too obvious, but there was an appeal to the strong sexual overtures.

‘I might stick to the restaurant if I’m to maintain any of the shreds of dignity I managed to escape with last night.’

That Brian retained an interest in her beyond friendship since the limousine fiasco boosted Faith’s spirits.

They spoke of Brian’s travel and the various snippets of languages he’d picked up.

‘Perhaps your father was right. Travel has educated you. I can’t manage any Italian, Spanish, French or Portuguese.’

‘What’s the point in speaking a language if you can’t apply it to anything other than restaurant menus?’

‘I’m sure there’s loads of international companies crying out for multi-linguists.’

Brian shrugged, grabbing a fork and spoon to dive in and demolish his pasta.

‘But a job would interfere with socializing?’ pressed Faith.

‘My CV can be written on a box of matches. I’m hardly employable material. I reached a stage where I accepted my place in the family. Now I make the most of it. Why fight a battle you can’t win?’

‘That’s a pathetic excuse.’

‘Are you always this judgmental? Why is it poor people feel they have the right to admonish the rich?’

The anger in Faith bubbled. Her hand gripped her glass to throw its contents in Brian’s face. She counted to ten to calm, then went to admire the view of the city from the restaurant’s large windows.

Brian had been crass. His father would’ve been furious with him. Flashing his money and status was vulgar; he knew that. Faith got under his skin and it grated with him. In the course of a few hours she had him thinking he should be putting his time and money to better use.

He walked, stopped behind her and placed his arms either side of her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured in her ear.

The warmth of his breath, and softness of his voice pacified her. Drawn to him, she leant into his solid, hard body.

‘When I see Gabe try to walk it breaks my heart because I’m essentially counting down the days till the inevitable session when he won’t be able to do it. This is a battle he’ll lose, but he fights every step of the way.’

‘I know. He told me he loved sports. It put me to shame. You’re showing me people and situations I’ve never experienced. I don’t know what to do to. My presence at the hospital does nothing. $270,000 does nothing.’

‘The way you look at the world is jaded Brian. The $270,000 is deposited towards research. It was a ridiculous bid on your part, but they can carry on searching for a cure without being reliant on government funding. Everything you witness this week gives you a personal outlook on what’s happening. Where progress is being made and where it’s forced to slow. You’re famous—’

‘I’m famous for dating women and spending my father’s hard-earned money,’ he cut in, leaving her sentence unfinished.

‘It doesn’t matter why you’re famous. What matters is you’re in the public eye. That gives you a substantial degree of power and influence. You can raise awareness. That’s what will help.’

‘People won’t listen to a talentless, notorious womanizer. I’d only damage the cause by actively supporting it.’

‘Then change your reputation. Change the way people perceive you.’

She was beginning to sound like Susie his PR rep, who’d echoed the exact sentiment regarding his ill fame; convinced he could improve it.

‘Do you know how my brother got home?’ asked Faith, marveling at the view.

‘He wheeled himself?’

‘No.’

‘The hospital laid on transport?’

‘No.’

‘He’s still there waiting for you?’

She turned to face him at the absurdity of the comment. His blue eyes were dancing. Forgetting herself, the ambiance and clientele, she tugged his t-shirt.

‘I like you in this.’

‘I’m hugely relieved. I had to get a stylist in to dress me. Don’t worry it was a guy.’

‘Are you for real?’

He nodded.

‘You’d make a garbage bag look sexy, Brian Porterhouse.’

‘Aren’t I the one supposed to be showering compliments on you?’ he asked, brushing the red tendrils of hair from her face.

‘I’m not your regular sort of girl.’

‘You’re certainly not. Beguiling is the word.’

‘I’d prefer it if you opted for irresistible.’

He planted a kiss on her the porcelain skin of her neck, his tongue tracing upwards before his mouth latched onto her ear-lobe. The sensitivity of the movement had her wanting him to take her there and then. Aware all eyes of the staff and patrons were on her, she reluctantly pushed him away.

She bellowed a fake laugh in a piteous demonstration to portray they were two people talking, not publicly engaging in the initial stages of foreplay. Affronted, Brian had no concern what people thought he was up to. No one would dare interrupt him. Faith’s self-consciousness was irrelevant.

‘I can’t believe you went to that much trouble to dress for your shift,’ commented Faith, steadying her voice.

‘My feet were killing me in those other shoes I wore.’

‘I thought they might.’

‘Anyway you were hardly Miss Perfect yourself, letting your laundry pile up, with only that temptress outfit to squeeze into.’

She poked her tongue at him. They sat down to finish their mains. Tension abated, Brian held her hand loosely while eating.

Although Faith loved the intimacy of hand-holding, eating spaghetti with one hand was proving unfeasible. In the end she found herself catching strands of spaghetti in her mouth to suck in. The dish was laden in a thick, rich sauce. Concerned shaking her hand free to manage her food might signal a desire to detach from Brian, she persevered. As she sucked hard to get the long strings of spaghetti in her mouth the sauce flew, not only on her face, but tiny droplets flicked onto Brian’s face and new shirt.

One caught him in the eye. He released her hand, rubbing his fingers to his eye. When Faith saw him dabbling two fingers in a glass of water as a half-hearted venture to bathe his eye, she realized whatever Brian had ordered for her had a dollop of chili in it to cause the stinging sensation.

‘Sorry,’ she said, dabbing her face with her napkin.

She stretched to clean him, but stopped herself behaving as a mother hen. Brian was used to being cool, chic and in control. Faith figured he was unused to having dates huffily stomp out mid-meal, then devour their food in the custom of a baby in a highchair at one of the city’s finest restaurants.

‘You all right?’ she asked timidly.

His eye was bloodshot.

‘I’m not going to die,’ he grumbled, blinking furiously.

He wasn’t angry at Faith, but horrified at his lack of decorum. The sting of the splash of spicy red sauce caught him unexpectedly, rocking his composure. Whenever he lacked self-assurance, Brian relied on his natural talent of charming women to elevate him.

‘A kiss would make it better,’ he said miserably, pouting his plump lips expectantly.

Smirking, but guilty, Faith leaned forward to kiss his sore eye. Exasperated, Brian moved further forward across the table to catch her properly on the lips. Faith recognized whenever their lips met a fire was ignited. In this case an actual fire was lit. Brian’s elbow knocked the candle off the table. The long-suffering waiter, holding the dessert menu for the couple, yelped as the flame of the falling candle caught the leg of his trouser. Instinctively, Brian threw a glass of water onto the bottom of the waiter’s trousers which was far from a raging bush fire.

Unsure whether there had been genuine cause for dowsing the waiter’s leg, Faith and Brian thought his response unwarranted and on par with a true diva—unless his trousers were of a flammable material. The spectacle had caught the attention of the entire restaurant.

After twenty-five years, Brian had no idea how to remedy the situation or brazen it out.

‘Are the desserts here tasty?’ mouthed Faith.

‘I think we’ve provided enough free entertainment. However delicious, I cannot endure another second of having all eyes on us,’ replied Brian, grabbing her hand and throwing a wad of notes from his wallet on the table to cover the bill.

Eternally grateful winter had yet to settle in the city, removing the requirement to retrieve jackets from the cloakroom, the two sprinted to the Hummer. The ever-reliable Marcus, wound down the inner window to ask where they were headed next.

‘We cannot finish on that note,’ said Brian to Faith. ‘Please don’t insist on going home. I know a club nearby. We’ll fit in, there are no candles, the music will be too loud for me to say anything stupid to annoy you and I promise I’ll give you a fantastic night. When you’ve had enough, we’ll depart without argument. I’ll have you driven straight home.’

Brian was flustered, a strange but adorable sight. Faith agreed.

‘Perhaps we can dance out troubles away or is Mr. Porterhouse above such trivial activities?’

It transpired, to Faith’s delight, Brian enjoyed dancing. He was fluid with rhythm and grace. Finally Faith found herself on equal footing with Brian since their initial meeting. Admittedly she couldn’t afford the entry fee to the club, let alone the price of the drinks, but dancing to live music provided the perfect atmosphere.

Brian introduced her to a few friends and notable stars he was familiar with. He made no mention of her in relation to the charity auction, nor did he refer to her as anything other than a friend. However with an arm permanently encircling her shoulders and his impulsive kisses, all observers drew the conclusion the couple were more than friends.

At one point Brian insisted on taking Faith to the secluded smoking area on one of the balconies of the club. As Brian didn’t smoke, Faith thought he intended socializing with his friends that hadn’t kicked the habit.

He admitted the cell phone reception was better outdoors for him to send a text. Suddenly and irrationally, Faith was insecure. Did Brian have a girlfriend? Was this part of his charitable duties? She swallowed the rising jealousy, making a call to distract herself and remind her why she was in Brian’s company.