What Natashadidn’tmention to me is that Alessia is also a conniving, sharp-tongued little firecracker who seems to have a deeply rooted disdain for men. At least, that’s what I’m gathering from the way she refuses to look me in the eye when the server finally comes over, takes our drink orders, and asks what we want to eat. And from the fact that she works as a private investigator who makes out with strangers so that she can catch them cheating.
Butfuck,the way her lips felt when she kissed me like shemeant it did something to me. Too bad I was just a pawn in her assignment.
“Um…” She scans the menu, her eyes darting back and forth nervously. When she finally orders, I can’t stop the chuckle that rumbles up from my chest. “I’ll try the smoked salmon,” she says, her voice flat.
I guess she’s trying to send me a message. Ordering fish on a first date wouldn’t stop me, but the way she’s sitting there, rigid and uncomfortable, tells me everything I need to know. If I hadn’t told her to “sit her ass down,” she’d have bolted out of here faster than she could fake an apology for our last meeting together.
Which, by the way, she hasn’t offered up yet. Something tells me I won’t be getting one either.
"I'll take the seafood casserole," I say, handing the server my menu with a smile. If we're going all in on fish tonight, I might as well commit to it.
Brookhaven was built around a gorgeous natural lake, centuries ago now, and fishing is still one of the largest employers this little town has. Most locals spend their springs and summers out on the water, catching wild fish and grilling whatever they haul in for dinner. It's a way of life out here, not just a hobby, which means this meal will be cooked to perfection by one of my cousin’s chefs.
Alessia shoots me a look—one of those sharp,I know exactly what you’re doing by ordering thatlooks—but I just smile back and take her in. She’s stunning, even more so in this lighting compared to the dim, shadowy bar where we first met. Natasha wasn’t wrong; Alessia’s my type, at least on the surface.
Her lips are a soft, naturally darker pink, her dress dips a little too low to claim she wasn’t here for one reason, and her full, round curves aren’t doing me any favors from staring. Even the slight uptilt of her nose somehow makes her expressionlook more defiant.
But it’s her lips that I keep coming back to. Those lips that kissed me softly before growing more passionate. Like I wasn’t her target, and she wanted me. Only to reveal it was all part of some elaborate trap to snag my cousin for something he didn’t even do. I can’t say it’s surprising. When was the last time I had a woman make the first move so obviously? I don’t put myself out there for them to even try.
“So,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “how’d you get into private investigating?”
Her shoulders sag like she’s already over talking to me. “In college. I needed extra cash to afford rent and sort of fell in love with the thrill of it.”
“Hmm…” I hum, swirling the drink in my glass. It’s Friday night, and I don’t have to trek into the city tomorrow, so one drink glass of bourbon won’t kill me. Alessia, on the other hand, went for white wine—an interesting choice for someone who, judging by her body language, looks like she’d rather be throwing back tequila shots and dancing by the bar.
“What’s the research process like before you go out on an assignment?” I ask, raising a brow. “You know, so you don’t accidentally confuse a target with someone else?”
Her scowl is instant, sharp enough to cut glass. At least I’ve got her attention now. “This has never happened before.Ever.Your cousin looks practically identical to you! I’m sure you can understand the mix-up.”
“Big mistake for a first time,” I say, taking a slow sip of my drink.
She shrugs, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It all worked out. You said he was going to break up with Kacey anyway.”
I sit back, letting out a low chuckle. She still won’t meet my gaze, her focus darting everywhere else. Still no apology. Deflecting. Looking for a way to blame someone else for hermistake. Figures.
“And do you always make out with your targets?” I ask, lowering my voice just enough to make her squirm. “Grab their crotches, and squeeze?”
Her eyes snap to mine, flashing with heat as her glare sharpens. “No. Idon’tdo that. Ever. That was…” She doesn’t finish her sentence like she’s struggling to find the words to explain what happened there.
Fuck if I don’t like hearing that. Stupid, right? She was working, plain and simple. But if she never does that, then why the hell did she do it to me? Maybe because there was a shred of her that wanted me despite thinking I was someone else.
“Interesting,” I say, dragging the word out just enough to needle her.
“Don’t gloat,” she snaps, but my chuckle spills out anyway.
“No gloating,” I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “I just find it fascinating, that’s all. Did you get what you were after with that grab? Get a good sense of what’s hanging between my legs? Need another check?”
“Stop. This is the strangest blind date ever.”
I laugh. “You’re right. Look, Alessia, I’m not the enemy here. I’m not a cheater. I’m not in a relationship, and I wasn’t when you kissed me. I’m not really sure why you’re upset and avoiding making eye contact with me. In fact, I can’t understand why we can’t just have a dinner together then go our separate ways. This will be a funny story to tell Natasha later.”
She blows out a breath, her long bangs shifting slightly with the force of it, revealing the high cheekbones that frame her face. She looks irritated and embarrassed all at once and for a moment I feel bad that I’m the source of that irritation.
“You’re right. I’m sorry for how I’m acting. I think…” She pauses, pressing her lips together before continuing, “I’m embarrassed that I mistook you for someone else and I think I’m having a hard time reconciling that you’re not Roman—the guy I thought was cheating on Kacey.”
Whoa, wasn’t expecting that apology, but I hold in my natural response because she already told me once not to gloat and frankly, I’m not the gloating type. I’m not trying to have a miserable dinner with her.
“I have… a problem with most men. I jumped to a conclusion and should have verified. You did say your name was Carpenter, though, didn’t you?”
