With a wicked laugh to herself, she tucked the clutch under an arm and left.
La Tavola Italiano, one of the best restaurants in town, was understandably packed on Friday night. Seated at a two-top against the wall, Sherry checked the time on her phone again. Stan was late. Her stomach grumbled, a rebuke for not ordering at least some stuffed mushrooms—one of her favorite items on the menu—or a platter of bruschetta to hold her over.
She sipped water and then set the glass on the white tablecloth. She hadn’t ordered a drink or even an appetizer because she’d wanted to wait until her date arrived. They’d agreed to meet at seven, but it was now seven thirty and there was no sign of him. Was he simply running late, or had he stood her up?
Surely he hadn’t. They reconfirmed the date last night. He’d been excited—just as she had been.
She glanced at the phone on the table again. No text from him, and the one she sent ten minutes ago was still unanswered. Maybe he’d been in an accident, because this silence was unlike him.
Another twenty minutes passed and her stomach growled embarrassingly loudly. So loudly she hunkered down a little in the chair, hoping the people at the closest tables didn’t hear. She should have eaten before coming out, but she’d expected Stan to be on time, and she’d wanted to save her appetite for her favorite restaurant.
Stan was now officially fifty minutes late, which meant he had stood her up. And she was starving.
The phone chirped beside her and she read the text.
Stan: Me and my ex have been talking for the past hour. We got back together. Sorry.
Wow.
Deflated, Sherry thought about the past three months of flirty texts and long conversations. And what about all the trouble she’d gone to just to get ready for tonight? She’d left work early to get her nails done, and her hair washed and styled into silky, shiny, loose curls that brushed her shoulders. She’d done a full face of makeup and even bought a new dress to impress him. All for naught.
Sherry channeled her anger and tapped out a quick message. You’re an ass. She hit send. Then she turned her phone to silent and flipped it over onto its face. If he responded, she didn’t want to know.
The waiter approached, a young Asian man with a sympathetic smile on his face. “Do you still need more time?” he asked.
She’d planned to leave, but Sherry felt guilty for holding his table for such a long time with only a glass of water. She could leave a nice tip, but why leave at all? Why waste a perfectly good outfit? And she was, after all, hungry. She would not let Stan force her back home. She’d had enough of letting a man’s bad behavior dictate her actions.
She knew the menu inside out and chose to make the best of a bad situation. She was going to have dinner, dammit. By herself on a Friday night in a crowded restaurant.
“Actually, I don’t need more time. The other person isn’t going to make it.”
“Oh.”
She gave the waiter her order for a meal and a drink, and he left.
Idly, Sherry let her eyes wander around the room, and a bit of longing overcame her and her enthusiasm dimmed. Couples flirted across the tables from each other, and groups of friends laughed uproariously as they dived into the delicious-smelling Italian food served from the kitchen.
Maybe she should have tempered her excitement so disappointment didn’t leave such a bitter aftertaste.
The waiter brought her drink, a Negroni, and set it on the table along with a platter of crisp bread and a small cart with different flavored olive oils and balsamic vinegar. “Your dinner order has been entered and should be up shortly.”
“Thank you.”
Sherry removed the orange peel from the side of the glass and sipped her cocktail.
“Don’t tell me you got stood up.”
On its own accord, her pulse bounced into alertness and then raced at the sound of the familiar voice.
Sherry looked up at Alex, standing beside her table, holding a tumbler with the remnants of a red drink in his hand. He wore the jacket from earlier in the day, but sans tie this time, with the top buttons of his shirt undone. He looked like he’d come straight from work to dinner.
“Excuse me?” Sherry said.
A sexy smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and caused tingling in the middle of her chest.
“I came in and sat at the bar behind you and saw you waiting for the past thirty minutes or so. Did your date have to cancel?”
Sherry considered lying, but what was the point? If Alex had been seated at the bar, then he’d accurately guessed she’d been waiting for her date, until a few minutes ago when she finally placed an order.
“Yes, he had to cancel,” she admitted reluctantly.
“That’s too bad.” His face gave nothing away. “Then you shouldn’t mind some company.”
“That’s mighty presumptuous of you,” Sherry said.
“Am I wrong?”
Sherry shrugged. “It’s a free country. You can have a seat anywhere you like.” She spoke in a dismissive voice, though she would welcome the company.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
They stared at each other.
“No, you’re not wrong,” Sherry admitted. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Alex sat down, and she made a conscious effort to tamp down the excitement that shot through her arteries. He signaled for the waiter.
The young man hurried over. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll have another Americano, please.”
“Anything to eat?”
He paused and looked across the table at Sherry. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
“You don’t know what I’m having. You might not like it,” Sherry said.
“You said this is your favorite restaurant, so I’m going to assume that’s because the food is excellent. I’m also going to assume you made a good decision and I’ll enjoy whatever you ordered.”
“That’s very trusting of you.”
“I have good instincts,” he said smoothly.
The waiter glanced knowingly between the two of them, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. He scribbled on his notepad. “Be right back.”
“So, your hot new man stood you up. What’s the name of this horrible person?” Alex asked.
“His name is Stan, and this was our first date,” Sherry said.
“Ahh, so he’s not your boyfriend?”
Sherry grimaced, kicking herself for accidentally contradicting what she’d told him at work.
“He’s not my boyfriend per se, but we’ve been talking for the past few months. I thought I knew him well, but…” She shrugged. “He got back together with his ex.” She picked at the white tablecloth. At least Stan didn’t turn out to be a serial killer.
“Word of advice,” Alex said, lowering his voice. “Never trust a man named Stan. Every Stan I know is a person of poor character.”
She laughed. “What? That’s not true.”
“No, it’s not. But it made you smile.”
Oh. Sherry didn’t know how to reply to that statement.
Alex’s gaze swept over her. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Better than at work?”
“You were lovely at work, too, but yes—this is better.”
“You’re not supposed to say that!”
She couldn’t blame him for the remark because she did look fantastic in her black dress and red shoes. Her hair looked great, and the red lipstick made her full lips appear even more prominent.
“Would you prefer that I lie to you?”
“No, actually.” Sherry sipped her drink and eyed him over the rim. “And what are you doing here?”
“Would you believe I was stood up, too?”
“No way.” A twinge of jealousy twisted in her stomach.
He nodded. “By Rashad.” Rashad was his best friend and the co-owner of Newmark Advisors.
“Oh.” The jealousy dispersed, replaced by happy relief. She pressed her lip
s together so she wouldn’t smile.
“We were supposed to meet for drinks and dinner, but like you, he stood me up for a woman.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He shrugged. “I guess we have to keep each other company, yes?” His gaze skimmed over her, prickling the skin of her bare arms.
“I guess so.” The night might have just gotten interesting.
3
Three hours.
For three hours he’d sat and talked to Sherry until the restaurant was almost empty. Only one other table remained occupied. Six people sat in a booth at the back of the dining room, and laughter erupted from them every now and again.
He and Sherry had covered every topic imaginable, including work, hobbies, relationships, and family. He learned that she was an only child and shared that he was raised by his grandfather, who’d passed away when he was twelve. After that, he was shuffled from home to home until he traveled from Colombia to the United States to attend school at eighteen. She talked about her volunteer work and how she’d lived in Atlanta for almost six years but didn’t know the city as well as she’d like, while he made a point of exploring in his free time—jogging at various parks in the metro area, or lounging at coffee shops—all of which had served him well in drumming up new clients.
He’d enjoyed every minute spent in her company, time slipping by unnoticed while they idled over lasagna and a robust Brunello wine. Everything was delicious, but the meal paled in comparison to the woman who sat across from him.
“So you think trust is the most important part of a relationship?” Alex asked, continuing their conversation.
Normally, getting into such a deep discussion would make him retreat, but not so with Sherry, who shared her innermost thoughts in an open, honest way. And then there was her beauty—which shone from the inside out. She was obviously sweet-natured despite the attempt to project a cool, unaffected exterior at work.
The urge to get closer had only increased as each hour ticked by. He ached to see every inch of her skin. He wanted to taste her sweetness, and he’d start with licking from her cleavage, up her smooth throat, and then sucking that plump lower lip into his mouth.
“Trust is really important, no doubt.” Sherry paused, her forefinger and thumb loosely trailing up and down the stem of her half-filled wine glass. “Trusting my family, my friends, my lover. Without trust, a relationship is fractured, don’t you think?”
Alex nodded, staying silent because he knew she had more to say.
“I’m a little adamant about trust because of my last relationship. My ex, upwardly mobile man that he is, was sneaking around my back with a local socialite. He has aspirations to go into politics one day, so her family connections come in handy. I learned all of this at the same time I found out his business trips turned out to be trips to her family’s homes in the Caribbean and Europe. Eighteen months down the drain.”
“Hijueputa.”
“Yes—to whatever that means.”
“It’s not a nice word. It’s the way we say ‘son of a bitch’ in Colombia. How did you find out about the other woman?”
She heaved a sigh. “A friend saw a photo of them in the paper, at a charity event at the Hilton. She told me about it, and I confronted him. He didn’t bother to deny he had cheated on me with her. He seemed relieved, to be honest. The lying must have been taking a toll on his conscience.”
Alex frowned. “You sound sympathetic.”
“Oh no, I’m not.” She shook her head vigorously, and her voluminous curls bounced on her head. “I still think he’s a horrible person, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty about what he did. At least, that’s the way I perceived his reaction. Anyway, as you pointed out earlier today, I took almost a year to jump back into dating.” His heart clenched at the sadness in her eyes.
“Then, when you jump back into dating, you get stood up by a man who goes back to his ex-girlfriend.”
“Just my luck.” A pained smiled this time. “What’s most important to you in a relationship?” Sherry asked.
Alex thought for a moment. “Love.”
“Love?” Both eyebrows rose.
“Yes. When you love someone, everything else falls into place. Respect, protection, consideration of the other person’s feelings—all naturally occur when your love is genuine. I suppose because I never had that growing up, unconditional love is important and absolute to me.” He’d never shared his thoughts on love with anyone else, nor had he ever admitted how much he craved it because it had been missing from his childhood.
Sherry pursed her lips. “My parents have that kind of love. They’re lucky.”
“Not lucky. Successful relationships involve hard work and commitment. You have to want success, and put in the work. It’s like anything else.”
Sherry nodded, then glanced around the restaurant and straightened suddenly, as if realizing for the first time that most of the patrons were gone. “We should probably leave.”
Behind the bar, the bartender was packing up glasses, and a couple of servers sat at a table rolling silverware and napkins for the next day. The patrons from the back booth sauntered in a line toward the front door.
“You’re right. Otherwise, they might kick us out.”
She nodded and reached for her purse.
“Dinner’s on me,” Alex said, fishing out his wallet.
“Absolutely not.”
“And why not?”
“Because it’s inappropriate.”
“Why?”
“Because you shouldn’t be saddled with my meal, Alex.”
“I invited myself to join you, remember? And I don’t mind.”
“Let me pay for my own dinner.”
“No.”
“The tip, then?”
“No. If it makes you feel better, consider this a business dinner. I’ll add it to my expense report. After all, we did spend some talking about work.” He called over the waiter, who approached and placed the bill on the table. Alex perused the items. Satisfied, he handed over the card with the bill.
Sherry bit the bottom corner of her lip, holding the scarlet-tinged flesh hostage between her teeth—which he longed to do himself. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not going to keep arguing with you, Sherry.”
“Fine. I won’t argue, but since you bought dinner, the least I can do is buy dessert.”
“Dessert?” Alex looked around at the empty restaurant. “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”
“Not really. There are places still open. We can go somewhere and listen to music and have dessert.” She spoke with a certain amount of hesitation. “Unless you have a curfew…?”
Alex laughed softly. “No, I don’t have a curfew.”
“Then dessert is on me.”
He studied her for a moment. She obviously wanted to spend more time with him, and he wanted to spend more time with her, but it wasn’t a good idea. He couldn’t risk getting involved with Sherry, and the burden of resisting the temptation she presented ate at him.
“I’ll have to pass.”
“Are you turning me down?” she asked with a little laugh.
“It’s late,” he said, by way of explanation.
“Late. Oh. So you do have a curfew, or maybe someone waiting at home for you?”
“I don’t have anyone waiting at home for me,” he said quietly.
“I see.”
Her lips firmed, and he knew right away that he’d upset her. All the progress they’d made in the past few hours disappeared. Shit.
“Sherry—”
“No, it’s fine. Believe me.” She tucked her phone into her purse.
“Sherry.” He covered her hand, and when she tried to withdraw, he tightened his hold. All night he’d fought the urge to touch her. Just reach across the table and hold her hand or press her palm to his mouth. Now that he had, his insides tightened with the enormity of the moment. And how much he wanted this woman—n
eeded her on a level he couldn’t comprehend. “This isn’t a rejection of you.”
“You must have misunderstood, Alex. There was nothing on offer except music and dessert. You have to go home, fine. As far as I’m concerned, the night is still young, and I’m going to enjoy myself, by myself.” She pulled away her hand.
His fist tightened on the table. “What does that mean?”
She didn’t get to answer because the waiter brought back the credit card receipt right then.
“Thank you for joining us for dinner this evening. Good night to both of you.” The young man left.
Sherry stood abruptly from the table, and Alex swiftly signed the receipt and followed after her, admiring her graceful, angry movements in a pair of stilettos that showed off gorgeous legs covered in black silk stockings.
The manager stood at the door and bade them a good night before letting them out and locking the door behind them.
“Which one is yours?” Alex asked.
“I didn’t drive. I’ll just call a cab.”
“I can give you a ride. I’m in the Porsche.” He angled his chin toward the black vehicle in the middle of the mostly empty lot.
She turned away from him. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine. I found my way here. I’ll find my way to the next destination.”
“Where are you going?”
In short order, he’d become territorial, wanting to keep her to himself. The way she was dressed, she would have no problem getting attention from any number of men, and the thought of her giving her digits to one of them and embarking on a new relationship damn near gave him an ulcer.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
“What the hell is your problem?” Alex snapped.
She turned on him with wide eyes. “What the hell is yours? You turned me down, and now you want to find out my itinerary? Whatever I decide to do after I leave here is my business, just like whatever you decide to do after you leave is your business. I only wanted us to go somewhere and have dessert and listen to music. I enjoyed your company and wanted to spend more time talking to you. That’s it.”
“That’s it? That’s all you wanted?”
“What else is there?”
A Powerful Attraction (Quicksand Book 1) Page 2