Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,42
as he led me to the back of the restaurant. “Everything’s original. All the woodwork’s unchanged.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said, thoroughly charmed by the old-world ambience. I sent a wary eye over the other diners’ attire, suddenly glad I’d taken a moment to freshen my curls and mask my travel weariness with light touches of makeup. The lightweight, floral dress I wore would’ve been fine on its own, but I’d added a cardigan in deference to my professorial, consultant role. At the last minute, I’d swapped my borrowed espadrilles for Birkenstocks. They were better to run in or kick ass with if this went poorly.
I was so distracted by the waiter’s explanations of the original artwork that I didn’t notice when he came to a stop outside a private room.
“Your other diner is here.”
I followed the waiter in, only to stop short at the sight of one person—and only one person—seated at the single occupied table in the room.
Nick.
I turned to the waiter, unsure of what to say, when I heard Nick’s voice. “Zora. Hi.”
I bit my lip, working to pace myself, to dial back my temper. “Nick.”
The waiter looked between us, his eyes comically wide. He pulled out my chair while his eyes darted to Nick, then to me, then back again.
I stared at the chair, unwilling to sit, to be managed. Yet again.
Hadn’t Leigh said it? He’ll always be four steps ahead.
“Please.”
I looked up at the word. Nick stood, eyes hot on mine.
The waiter stood at my elbow, eyes huge.
Fuck it, I decided. The sooner I slayed this dragon and confronted the past, the sooner I’d be back home.
Right. To all the fun and grant-related failure that awaited me there.
I lowered myself into the seat, obliging the waiter’s attempt to push in my chair with awkward forward shuffling. Nick and the waiter released an audible sigh together. The waiter fled to safety while Nick folded his impressive height back into his seat.
Glancing at him, I noted that he looked tired. More dark stubble covered his square jaw. Flickering candlelight caught the dark shadows under his bright eyes. I averted my attention from the tuft of dark hair peeking from the open collar of his white dress shirt. One of his long legs straddled the outside of the table. I didn’t miss the way his trousers strained with the definition of his quads.
Grandma Leffersbee had always told my siblings and I that we had to be good for our parents. That we should always do the right thing. “Be wary of the devil,” she’d warned us. “He’s tricky.”
Watching Nick in the flickering candlelight, fighting an ancient instinct to slide my hands through the unruly strands of his dark hair, I realized Grandma had left out rather important details about the dark lord. I wished I could update her, or add a codicil to her timeworn speech.
You left out an important detail, Grandma. The devil is tricky, but he is also one sexy bastard.
Nick’s gaze moved over my face and settled on my mouth.
“So,” I said, mostly to distract myself from his unsettling gaze as it drifted from my mouth and dipped lower.
What is he thinking?
“Your team is missing,” I said conversationally. “And you’re here. I feel ambushed.”
He sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed as he considered me. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“This is the second time you’ve brought up your intentions, as if they somehow make up for the fucked-up reality you create. I don’t give brownie points for intentions. Not when I was obviously lied to. There’s no team here.”
His eyes briefly widened. I suspected he was reassessing me, mentally recalibrating his approach.
Good. I was done being dragged around, even if it was in lovely New York.
“I wouldn’t have imagined you’d be the one with the potty mouth all these years later. Wasn’t it you that tried to shame me out of my cussing phase? What were we, twelve, when your mother washed my mouth out with soap?” He grinned, the expression briefly chasing the fatigue from his face.
Despite myself, I smiled at the memory. “Yep. She overheard you saying ‘shit’ in the backyard.” I shook my head. “I told you she could hear through that back kitchen window. But you didn’t listen.” I paused, considering him. “But you’ve never really known when to stop, have you? Still enjoy testing the limits?”
His expression sobered. “I wouldn’t be where I am now if I was worried about testing the limits.”