little prompting, he reminded himself. “It’s my treat, Rachael, honest. Please order whatever you want.”
“Priiicey. Though I think that’s a wonderful touch.” She pointed and he turned. Dozens of FedEx shipping labels were taped over the oyster bar, proving the seafood in question hadn’t been on the premises longer than forty-eight hours.
“It is, huh? Guess that’s why they gouge us. Ten bucks for asparagus, nine bucks for mushrooms . . .”
“What?”
“Okay, I might have seen a flash of the temper you were talking about earlier because you said that really, really loudly.”
“Nine bucks? The lobster I understand. The clam chowder I—Jesus! Forty bucks for halibut? Do we get to adopt it and take it home and raise it and send it to an Ivy League college?” She glared as the waitress bounced up to the table, all smiles and sleek hair and neatly pressed pants and apron. “We’re from Boston. Boston! And you’re way overcharging us.” She turned back to him. “Edward, you don’t have to pay, truly. Please let me treat you.”
“No way. I’m loaded, baby. I’m a rich retiree. Can’t you tell?”
“The Yoda socks gave it away,” she replied, rolling her eyes. He was astounded. Rachael had, among her many, many, many attributes, a fine eye for detail.
“Did you have any questions about our menu, miss?”
“Sooooo many questions. How does your boss sleep at night, that would be question number one. And can I get the scallops without the tortilla chips? That would be question number two.” Then she coughed, and he could swear she seemed ashamed, or embarrassed. “And I’m sorry about greeting you like I did. I’m homesick and I’m being quite the bitch about it.”
“Rachael! Nuh-uh!”
“Don’t listen to him,” she told the bemused waitress. “He’s madly in lust. But I do apologize. Although I have to warn you, all the food you bring us had better be spectacular.”
“Don’t make her angry. You wouldn’t like her when she’s angry.”
“You shush.”
They ordered, the waitress left, and when Rachael gave him the full force of her dark gaze, he knew that if he never saw her again after that night, he would always, always think of her.
“A retired man of leisure . . . how nice for you. What are you, really?”
Good question. Sidekick? Besotted date? IT guy? Tourist? Vamp stalker? All of the above? None of the above?
“I took a leave of absence from Grate and Tate—”
“Not the Boston firm!”
“Uh, yeah.” He mentally braced himself for, Oh. You’re an accountant? Um. How exciting. No, really. Um, I think the diarrhea’s coming back so let’s just hang it up for tonight, okay?
“I’m an accountant, too!
He instantly rewrote the dialogue in his head: I think accountants are the hottest thing on the planet! I continually fantasize about being spanked by an accountant! I wish you would spank me while filing my tax return! Mmmm . . . Mama likey . . .
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Go away, boner! No one hit your buzzer. “Oh, fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re between jobs?” she asked with genuine interest (he was pretty sure).
“No, but I’ve been working since I was sixteen, Grate and Tate pay well and have super bennies, and I have no life, so I’ve got five figures in savings. I was able to take a leave of absence.”
“Hard to believe.”
“I’m frugal, baby.”
“I meant about having no life. You seem quite lively to me,” she teased.
He could feel the blood rush to his face. “Thanks.” Then he cleared his throat to try to cover for his hot face and said, “So what are you gonna get?”
“Laid, I hope,” she said, and that was when he spilled his water all over himself.
Fourteen
He was fumbling with the key card and dropped it and she snatched it up and then she dropped it (most likely because his hands were pretty busy under her dress) and somehow they managed to get the damned hotel room unlocked and fell inside.
His hands were everywhere, his mouth was on hers; he was groaning and so was she. She yanked and heard his pants rip.
Careful. Careful.
So far, quite the successful first date. Hmm. I guess I’m that kind of girl now. The kind who ruthlessly seduces on a first date. Edward never had a chance . . . not that he seems to mind.
No, he didn’t seem to mind.
They had spent the evening gorging on the most overpriced seafood she’d ever had, and it was worth every penny.
The halibut: buttery and tender and flaky. His chowder (which he kindly