Behind Your Back - Cameron Chelsea M.. Страница 14

“You clean up nice, Quinn Brand.”

“So do you, Saige Beaumont.” Her smile widens and I notice that she gets little crinkles at the edges of her eyes when she smiles. Lovely. So far this assignment has been both business and pleasure and I think it’s going to continue that way.

“Shall we?” I say, holding my arm out for her and then producing a single white rose from behind my back. It means innocence and purity, which is at odds with my true intentions.

“Very smooth,” she says, taking the rose from me and sniffing it before breaking the stem and putting it behind her ear. Now that was smooth. She takes my arm and we ride down the elevator and go out to the car. I open the door for her and she makes appreciative comments about the car.

“Thank you. It gets me from place to place,” I say.

I pull out and she asks where we’re going.

“I thought you liked surprises,” I say.

“I do, but only when I know what they are.” I chuckle.

“Then that defeats the purpose of a surprise.”

“Hey, I’m not going to explain how my mind works. You’re just going to have to figure it out.” I ask her if the temperature is okay and she nods.

The rest of the way to the restaurant is spent in small talk. Mindless getting-to-know-you chatter. Only I already know most everything I need to know about her to do my job.

She asks me some more about my job and I give her general answers. She leans back in the seat and the white rose behind her ear keeps catching my attention. I’m not used to having a pretty girl in the passenger seat.

I pull up in front of the restaurant and the valet comes out to take my keys. I slip him a few bills to take extra good care of the car and go over to open the door for Saige.

“Thank you,” she says, giving me a smile. It’s a warm night out, so she just has a black silky shawl wrapped around her shoulders. All the black makes her white skin glow. A few freckles dot her skin here and there and I’m looking forward to see where else they exist on her body.

“Veerrrrryyyy nice,” she says, drawing out the first word as she sees where we are. I haven’t skimped on anything tonight.

“Why thank you. I’ve heard the chef here makes a roast duck that will change your life,” I say. Technically, I’m quoting Cash, who had been here a few weeks ago with a woman he was trying to seduce. It worked, so I decided to bring Saige here as well.

The hostess leads us to our table in the back. It’s sweet and cozy and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the patrons.

“So far, so good,” she says as I pull her chair out for her and she sits down.

“I’m hoping things will continue to be good.” I sit down and she raises one eyebrow.

“Just good?”

“Great?” She shakes her head. “Fantastic?” Another head shake. “Spectacular?”

“How about memorable?” she suggests. “I’ll take memorable. Memorable is better than good.”

“Yes, but memorable can also be bad. I want this to be a positive experience, if I can help it,” I say. The hostess interrupts our conversation to give us the specials and a wine list.

“I’ll have a pinot noir and for the lady…” I trail off and glance at Saige.

“The same,” she says with a smile.

“Would you like a few moments?” I say that I do and she leaves us. I already know what I want to order, but I give Saige the chance to peruse.

“So I’m guessing if you know that the duck is good, then you’ve been here before.” I know where she’s going with this, even though she keeps her tone light.

“Yes, I’ve brought a few clients here for dinner. No other women, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m currently unattached.” Her green eyes flick up to meet mine.

“I don’t care if you’re dating. I was just wondering.” No, she wasn’t. I’m beginning to sense a possessive streak in her. I like it.

“Uh huh,” I say, dismissing it. “See anything you like?”

Her eyes look up and meet mine.

“Maybe.”

“I meant something on the menu.” Her eyes narrow a little and she sets her menu down.

“I think I’m feeling like duck tonight, how about you?” I agree. Our wine arrives and I order for both of us. Saige leans back in her chair and tips her head to the side.

“Studying me?” I ask, sipping my wine.

“Trying to figure you out. You’re a bit of a mystery, Quinn Brand, but I bet you know that. I bet you know that and you use it to your advantage whenever you can.” I give her a smile.

“You’ve got me pegged, Saige.” I can’t stop saying her name. She sips her wine, but her eyes don’t leave mine. The white rose looks so pretty against her red hair.

“No, I don’t think I do. There’s a lot to you, Quinn. I can feel it. You’re like a pond where the surface appears calm, but you don’t know how deep it is until you dive in and start to let yourself drown.” I could say the same about her.

“Does that bother you?” she asks.

“No. You can analyze me all you want. It means I get to stare into those green eyes of yours.” I expect her to blush and look down, but she doesn’t. Her eyes narrow as if she knows exactly what game I’m playing. Yes, I have underestimated this redhead.

The conversation moves back onto more solid ground and I ask her about hobbies and favorite music and so forth. A lot of this information isn’t something I can find out until I talk to her.

“I’m sure you expect me to say that I listen to something deep and vintage, like Joni Mitchell,” she says.

“I’ve learned it’s best not to assume in life,” I say. I never assume if I can help it. “So who do you like?”

“Well, I do like Joni Mitchell, but I listen to everything from Lorde to Maroon 5 to Taylor Swift to The Civil Wars to Frank Sinatra. I’ll listen to anything, as long as it’s good.” I like that and I completely agree.

“What’s your favorite song?” I ask. She rolls her eyes.

“That’s such a silly question. Your favorite song right at this moment isn’t going to be your favorite song at another moment. And my favorite song when I was ten isn’t the same as it is now.”  I put my hands up, as if surrendering.

“I was just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“What’s your favorite song?”

“‘Fire and Rain’ by James Taylor.” The words are out of my mouth as if they aren’t under my control. I didn’t mean to tell her that. I meant to tell her something by U2 or Queen or Jimi Hendrix. Not the real thing.

“James Taylor? Interesting. Do you play guitar?” I shake my head. I’d always wanted to learn, but could never bring myself to do it. I’ve brought Saige close to uneven ground that I don’t want to tread on. So I turn things back on her.

“I told you mine, now tell me yours.”

She purses her lips and then sighs.

“Fine. It’s ‘Take Me to Church’ by Hozier. And I liked it before it was all over the radio, by the way.” I chuckle. That is a good song. I can’t fault her taste.

This particular restaurant plays soft piano music over a loudspeaker and I have an idea.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” She nods and picks up her wine, taking a sip. Her creamy throat ripples as she swallows.

I go to the hostess and ask her for a favor. I also hand her some cash to help her agree to help me out. I go back to the table to find Saige finishing her wine.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

The piano music clicks off and changes to Hozier’s ‘Take Me to Church’. Saige recognizes the song and smiles at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Good. I’ve pleased her.

“Would you like to dance?” I say, holding my hand out.

“This isn’t really a dancing song,” she says.

“Dance with me anyway,” I say, and she gives me her hand. I pull her into me and she fits against my body so well. Curves matching valleys, her give, my take. She exhales, as if she’s surprised by something.

“What?” I ask as I put my hand on her lower back.