Penniless And Secretly Pregnant - Jennie Lucas Page 0,33
smile.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Leonidas felt the same, just looking at her.
He took the bottle from her hand. “Floral, roses and white jasmine, with an earthy note of amber.” They stood close, so close, almost touching. “I’ll have them wrap it up for you.”
She bit her lip. “I shouldn’t.”
“I missed your birthday,” he said quietly. “Won’t you let me get you a present?”
She exhaled, then slowly nodded.
“But after this, we’re done shopping.”
Giving in to the inevitable, he sighed.
Daisy wasn’t impressed by luxury. Or his company. Or him. It hurt his pride, a little. In each store, Daisy had been treated as if she were the queen of England, visiting from Buckingham Palace. Each time, she blushed with confusion, but was soon chatting with the staff on a first-name basis. And before long, the employees seemed to forget the powerful Liontari CEO was even there.
The salesgirls treasured Daisy for herself. He wasn’t the only one to see Daisy’s bright warmth. She shone like a star.
What a corporate wife she would make!
“Shall we go for lunch?” he asked as they left Loyavault. Outside, the March sun had come out, and the air was blue and bright, as the spring snow started to melt like it had never existed. She looked at him with a skeptical eye.
“Let me guess. Some elegant Midtown restaurant, French and fancy?”
He hastily rethought his restaurant choice.
“There’s a place just a block away. It’s French, but not fancy. Strictly speaking, it’s not precisely French, but Breton. Crepes.”
“You mean like pancakes? Yum.”
Thus encouraged, he said, “Shall we walk? Or ride?”
“Walk.”
They strolled the long city block to the small hole-in-the-wall establishment, tucked into a side street, where it had existed for fifty years. He led her into the wood-paneled restaurant, rustic as a Breton farmhouse, with a crackling wood-burning fire.
Unlike the more elegant restaurants, no one knew Leonidas here. He’d been here only once before, when he’d visited the city on a weekend from Princeton. They had to wait for a table.
But Daisy didn’t seem to mind. She took his arm as they waited together in the tight reception space, and all of Leonidas’s ideas of trying to bribe someone for an earlier table flew out the window.
Soon, a wizened host with a white beard led them to a tiny table for two near the fire. He didn’t give them menus.
“You want the full?” the elderly man asked in an accented, raspy voice.
Leonidas and Daisy looked at each other.
“Yes?” he said.
“Sure?” she said.
“Cider,” the man demanded.
“Just water,” Leonidas replied. “Thank you.”
After the waiter departed, he looked at Daisy across the table. “You don’t really seem to like luxury. Fancy restaurants, fancy cars, fancy clothes.”
She suddenly looked guilty. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude...”
“You’re never rude,” he said. “I’m just curious why?”
“More market research?”
“If you like.”
She sighed. “It all just seems so expensive. So...unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary?” He felt a little stung. “Would you call art necessary?”
Daisy looked at him with startled eyes. “Of course it’s necessary! It’s an expression of the soul. The exploration and explanation of what makes us human.”
“The same could be said of clothing. Or makeup or perfume. Or food.”
She started to argue, then paused, stroking her chin.
“You’re right,” she admitted.
Leonidas felt a surge of triumph way out of proportion for such a small victory.
“Here,” the white-bearded man said abruptly, shoving plates at them with savory buckwheat galettes, filled with the traditional ham, cheese and a whole cooked egg in the middle.
“Thank you.” Daisy’s eyes were huge. Then she took a bite. The sound of her soft moan of pleasure shook Leonidas. “It’s—so—good,” she breathed, and holding her fork like a weapon, she gobbled down the large crepe faster than he’d ever seen anyone eat before. He looked at her, and could think of nothing else but wanting to hear her make that sound again.
“Would you like another?”
“Another?” She licked her lips, and he had to grip the table.
“Save room for—dessert—” He managed to croak out. If only the dessert could be in his bedroom, with her naked, like that time with the ice cream. That would be the perfect end to their meal. Or anytime. Forever—
“Are you going to eat that?” Daisy said, looking longingly at his untouched crepe.
He pushed it toward her. “Please take it.”
“Thank you,” she almost sang, as if he’d just done something worthy of the Nobel Prize. And she ate that one, too, in rapid time.
Leonidas couldn’t tear his eyes away as she lifted the fork to her mouth, before sliding it out again. As she