* * *
“I’ve never imagined you gray.” Presley snickered as he slid into the space next to me. “You look distinguished, professor-like.”
“Oh, shut up. It was either this or blond, but she wanted to dye my eyebrows, and I said no way.”
It had been some time since I’d worn a full-on disguise to a restaurant, but I wasn’t sure if Torre would be there and couldn’t take the chance of him recognizing me. Upon entering the place, Press and I were greeted by a woman this time, who led us to a cozy banquette by the gas fireplace in the corner. Once again, fresh flowers graced the table, but I noticed a change. The specials were now printed on a higher-quality paper, and each dish stated the full ingredients and from where they were sourced.
“Nice touch,” I murmured.
“What?” Presley was engrossed in the menu. “This all looks so good.”
“It is.”
“Wait, you’ve been here already?”
“Once,” I answered, as the waiter appeared. Not the person I was hoping to see, although I couldn’t understand why it mattered. I was here to do a job, not get laid.
We ordered a bottle of wine, and a busboy gave us the same warm, crusty bread with the herb-infused olive oil as before. In the midst of a dip, I spotted Torre and tensed.
What the hell is wrong with me?It had been nothing but a one-night stand, yet here I was, acting like a horny teenager, desperate for a glimpse of him.
“Hey, you okay?”
“What?” I blinked to find Presley staring at me. “What’s the matter?”
“You tell me. You’ve barely said a word, yet all of a sudden your face turned red. Are you sick or something? Do you want to go home?”
“No, of course not. I’m fine. Must be a bit warm by the fireplace, is all.” Torre passed by, and our eyes met, but because I’d put on brown contact lenses, he didn’t recognize me. A professional, impersonal gaze swept over me, and I breathed a sigh of relief that my disguise was working. If it could fool a guy who’d jerked me off and I’d spent the night with, I had nothing to worry about.
“All right, if you’re sure.” Presley didn’t seem convinced, but by the time our wine came, I’d pointed him to some of the menu items I thought we should order, though I let him pick for himself.
“Wow,” the waiter said. “That’s a lot of food.”
I allowed him a faint smile but didn’t answer. Since I’d already tried the fish, this time I went with chicken with roasted tomatoes and a Madeira glaze, plus a salad and fettuccini with salmon in cream sauce. Presley orderedstracciatellasoup, shrimp in lemon butter and white wine, and at my urging, the branzino. If it turned out as good as it had the prior week, the dish deserved to be spotlighted.
With our orders placed and the wine poured, I couldn’t help but follow Torre as he worked, first taking orders, then leaning against the bar and waiting for drinks, where I could admire the curve of that very fine ass.
“He’s good-looking for sure.” Presley slanted a look at me.
“Mmm.” My noncommittal response didn’t fool him.
“You’ve been with him.”
I didn’t answer, and Presley jumped all over me.
“Don’t tell me you want to see him again? Is that why you’re back a second time?”
“The only place I want to see Torre is under me. And I need to write a review. I couldn’t write one after I spent the night with him.”
“What?” Presley squawked. “You spent the night with him?”
Dammit.I hadn’t meant to let that slip out. “It was nothing…no big deal.” But I didn’t meet his eyes.
“You’re kidding me. You spend the night with someone…what’s his name, Torre? You’ve never done that before, and you say it’s no big deal? Don’t you see how huge that is?”
“What I see is this dinner bordering on painful if you keep this up. Torre is no different than anyone else. Period.”
He remained silent for a bit, drinking his wine before starting in on me again.
