“Table for two?” came an attendant behind the counter.
“Yes, please,” Emmitt said. A rush of something warm and exciting coursed through him as they followed the attendant to a corner booth. He was on a date with Sloane, essentially, and he liked it.
An instrumental Christmas tune drifted over the establishment. That, along with the holiday décor, reminded Emmitt of how close they were to Christmas.
“Will this do?” the attendant asked.
Emmitt looked to Sloane for her approval.
“It is just right, thank you,” Sloane answered.
He motioned for her to sit first, then scooted into the other side of the booth. Two menus sat on the table, but Emmitt put his sights back on her. He hadn’t enjoyed banter like this in who knew how long?
“So,” Sloane said, “we have determined that you know only a fraction of a sliver about me.”
“Right,” he confirmed with a nod. “Which is a shame.”
“Itisa shame,” she agreed. “Because I would say I know about a quarter of yours.”
His eyes doubled in size.“What!You think you know a quarter of my…”
“Of your pie chart, yes.”
He laughed incredulously. “That is absurd.”
Sloane waved her delicate-looking fingers over the two menus before selecting the one on the bottom and tugging it out from under the other.
Emmitt furrowed his brow. “You do know they’re identical, right? The menus? They’re not tarot cards or anything.”
“Oh, I know they are identical,” she said as Emmitt snatched the remaining menu off the table. Something wet and sticky slid beneath his grip as he moved to open it.
“I just had a feeling that I would be more pleased with the menu on the bottom.”
Emmitt sneered at the dark-colored sauce on his hand, catching a waft of barbecue. “Gross.”
“Here,” she said, offering him a cloth napkin. “If our waters were here, I would dip it in that. You will have to do the best you can.” He sensed she was working to keep the amusement off her tone, but it wasn’t working. She was inwardly laughing at him.
“Thanks for the warning.” He wiped up as much of the sauce as he was able but sighed as it left the affected parts sticky. “I better go wash up.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” she said with a grin. “Since I know twenty-five percent of your pie chart.”
Emmitt couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay then, if you can tell me what I’m going to order on that menu—because I already know exactly what I want—then Imightconcede that you know afractionof a fraction more about me than I know about you.”
Sloane let out a deep sigh, her eyes already scanning the menu in her grip. “Deal.”
Chapter 8
Sloane had not expected to feel what she was feeling tonight.
Sure, she’d planned on getting close to Emmitt as part of her job, but this didn’t feel like work. The words light and joyful came to mind. And comfort too. There was so much good about her time with Emmitt Duran. She couldn’t deny it—she was having a great time. Better than great. It’d been a night full of laughter, surprises, and a lot of flirtatious fun. She’d almost forgotten she was there on assignment.
Of course, when that fact came back to her, Sloane assured the worried little voice in her head that this was all part of the process. If she simply let the evening unfold naturally, organically, Emmitt would open up to her. It was a different approach than she was used to taking, but Emmitt was a different type of guy. He was more honest, maybe. Unwilling to fake what wasn’t there, all for the sake of possibly getting lucky.
Or perhaps this was his reformed side. The side that was working to step away from his playboy ways. But that wasn’t the impression she got from him. She sensed that Emmitt didn’t have to work hard to get a little action out of the ladies he “played” during his player streak.
“Well,” Emmitt said as he rested his spoon on the napkin at his side. “After that enlightening dinner, I’d say I know about…thirty percent of you now.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it. Tell me some things you know about me.” Earlier, when he’d asked her to guess what he might order off the menu, Sloane had felt positive he’d be the typical T-bone steak type of guy. A baked potato on the side with all the fixings. She’d been wrong. He had more expensive taste. The prime rib with the garlic mashed potatoes, a side of sautéed mushrooms instead of the corn, and crème brûlée for dessert.Thatpart she did get right.
