by Fiona Archer
She stared after Dillon. “Did I miss something?”
“Yeah, but that’s Dillon’s fault for not acting when he had the chance.”
Well, that cleared that up—not.
“Can I get you a drink?” Seth asked.
Harper grinned. At least her sister wouldn’t have to disown her. “I’d love a wine, thanks.”
Seth signaled a waiter, and Harper chose a glass of chardonnay. She studied Seth over the rim of her glass as she sipped the cool liquid.
He waited for her to finish her sip before speaking. “So these fake Rolexes...can we work a good deal on four of them? I’m thinking Christmas presents for my brothers.”
She battled to keep a serious expression as laughter rippled through her voice. “Buyer beware. They come with no guarantee.”
Another one of his slow, devastating smiles spread over Seth’s face. “I’m used to taking risks.”
She just bet he was—and not just because he had grown a successful business worthy of being snapped up by a major conglomerate. Seth had the charm of a riverboat gambler and the sharp gaze of a street fighter. He wore those characteristics like a comfortable pair of jeans.
Seth was refreshing and vastly different from the people attending her father’s little cocktail party. These people hid behind well-constructed facades. The football players kept close to each other, as if there was strength in numbers. The men in suits, outwardly bored yet underneath excited as any kid, wanting to get a few words with their favorite player. And the wives of her father’s rich clients, eyeing the buffet of testosterone and fantasizing about secret autograph sessions in a motel somewhere.
She sighed and closed her eyes at the superficiality of it all. When had she become so cynical? She snorted softly. Maybe some of her father had rubbed off on her after all. After years of being an unwilling spectator at his events, she hadn’t managed to escape unscathed.
“I’m guessing from that sigh these parties aren’t your kind of thing.” Seth pointed his glass of beer at the crowd.
Damn, she needed to hide her thoughts better.
“That obvious, huh?” Oh, heck, did he think she found him boring? “It’s me. It’s not you, definitely not … um, I mean, you’re fabulous.” She snapped her mouth shut. Awesome, Harper.
His gaze gleamed with silent laughter.
She sucked in a breath and battled on. “You’re right. These corporate gigs aren’t for me.”
“What is?” Seth sipped his beer.
She thought for a second. “Street markets, hanging with friends over a home-cooked meal, seeing a classic movie at the Grand Illusion Cinema in the University district. The interior is original with red brocade chairs and fancy metalwork. Just divine.” Okay, now she was on a roll. “Oh, and I have to have Milk Duds. Two boxes if I’m with someone, because I don’t share.” If he didn’t understand the importance of candy while watching a movie then she’d leave right now. Some things were sacred.
“I get you on the Milk Duds. I have the same with Allens Jaffas lollies.” At her head tilt, he answered, “Aussie candy I order online and have mailed over. I guard that stuff like it’s the crown jewels. My brother Heath tries to steal handfuls when we watch the rugby. Bastard can get his own.”
Ah, they had a meeting of minds.
“I feel your frustration,” Harper nodded, her tone solemn.
Seth studied her for a moment then, after a quick glance around the garden, asked, “Can I tempt you to leave. Buy you dinner?”
“You tempt me a great many ways, Seth.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth.
The big Aussie’s lips kicked up at one corner, and his low chuckle sounded as if Hades himself was amused.
Under the influence of whatever evil genie now controlled her mouth, she’d just have to ride it out.
His invitation was tempting. Why hang around when her father had clearly dismissed her earlier? After all standing before her was a man who intrigued her and had just asked her out to dinner.
Not exactly a hard choice.
“Just what did you have in mind?” Her voice was calm, unlike the flutter in her tummy.
“Dinner, conversation and a chance to impress you with my suave moves and epic sense of humor.”
Hmm, he was laughing at himself, which was damn sexy, but there was a self-assuredness in the way he stood tall and proud that made her pulse skip. That alone should make her wary. She’d met plenty of cool dudes who turned out to be jerks with all the right words.
Still, Seth seemed so…upfront. And that dry humor was an instant hook for her.
“Confident, aren’t you?”
All teasing fled his eyes. He stepped closer, so close she could smell a hint of aftershave—a rich woody fragrance undercut with warm spices.
His gaze locked with hers as he ran a finger down the side of her cheek, leaving her skin tingling in its wake.
She held her breath and waited.
“I’m a man who knows what he wants. Right now, I want to take you to dinner and find out if you’re as intriguing as the idea of getting to know you promises.” He traced the blunt tip of his finger over the edge of her bottom lip. His touch wasn’t light but…firm, commanding, as if he was giving her a chance to feel him before he took possession. “My guess is I’ll be left wanting more.”
Her breath rushed out in a soft whoosh. Tall, daring and dangerous. That was Seth. Damned if it didn’t make her crave him all the more.
“Then, uh...” Her words caught in her dry throat. She tried again. “We should put that theory to the test. Yes, I’ll have dinner with you.” Harper handed her half empty glass to a passing waiter.
Seth didn’t smile or say a word before he slid his hand around her elbow and guided her to the doorway. Her heartbeat stuttered at his touch as she put one foot in front of the other and concentrated on not tripping on any demented pavers out to wreck her grace mojo.
They travelled down in the elevator to the lobby in silence. Harper studied everything but the hottie next to her. She clasped her indigo velvet clutch, the one she’d scored at the antique store near Pike Place Market. What was wrong with her? She was acting like some dumbstruck teenager asked out by the lead singer of a boy band.
He was just a guy. Okay, a handsome, totally alpha male who was obviously successful in business or else her dad wouldn’t be buying his company. But essentially, he was a guy, not a super hero. Hadn’t her past experiences with men shown her she needed to be careful, look beyond the shiny veneer to the truth beneath?
And hey, she was a smart, sassy, intelligent woman who happened to own her own business. She needed to focus on her having the power, not the other way around. Be smooth. In control. Taking in a deep breath, she let it out in a long sigh and centered her thoughts.
“Harper?”
With a start, she blinked.
Seth was standing in the open doorway of the elevator, his head tilted as if he’d been standing there a while.
Silently cursing to herself, she plastered on a smile and walked out, totally owning the moment every step of the way.
CHAPTER TWO
“I’ll have the wild mushroom and chicken risotto.” Harper glanced at the menu as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
Seth stopped himself from reaching across the red and white checked tablecloth to gently free the tender flesh. Would she be shocked and open her mouth just enough for him to trace the plumpness of her lower lip? Now that was one sweet temptation. Instead, he rolled up the sleeves of his navy shirt. It was time to relax and enjoy the company of the woman across the small table.
“Or, maybe, the bocconcini, tomato and basil pizza.” She shook her head. “No, cancel that. I’ll stick with the risotto.”
Theo, aged in his sixties and owner of Seth’s favorite Italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant, didn’t write down her order. Since Harper had changed her mind twice already, Seth couldn’t blame him.
Judging by the indulgent smile on Theo�
�s mustached face, he didn’t mind. And Seth could understand why.
The curvy bundle of woman was a sweet contradiction—one moment sassy and daring, the next adorably cute. On their cab ride to Theo’s, she’d caught a passing glimpse at a Staples store and clapped as she announced she was due for her next “extravaganza”—whatever the hell that meant.
“Are you sure, miss?” Theo held his pen poised over his pad as the light from the wall sconce shone on his partially bald head.
Harper handed back her menu. “Yes, I’m sure,” she replied with the gravity of someone giving testimony before a grand jury.
The older man turned his way. “Do I even need to ask your order?”
“The usual, mate.” He picked up his beer and took a swallow.
“Spaghetti marinara with extra prawns.” Diminutive of height, but huge in personality, Theo rolled his eyes at Harper. “He won’t call them shrimp. Comes here all the time, eats nothing but my marinara. His brothers, now they’re different, always trying something new. But not this one.” Theo turned to Seth. “Dillon came here last week, but not the others. Where have they been? I want to see Zach’s little bambino.”
“Busy.” Regret—no, guilt—sank like a torpedoed sub deep in Seth’s gut. “Adam’s away as usual.” Who knew where with his secretive brother and his life in black ops? “Zach’s reputation for his wood carvings has spread far and wide, and between work and catering to our resident princess, he’s damned busy.” Four-year-old Milly had her dad and uncles wrapped around her little finger. How her mom could have abandoned a three-month-old baby with Zach Seth would never understand.
“And Heath,”—Seth shrugged at Theo—“a detective never has normal hours, and neither have I this last year.” Had it really been a month since they’d caught up for a beer?
How many messages had Heath left before he’d threatened to put out an APB out on Seth if he didn’t call back? There was a time they’d made it a point to hang out each week.
But life had a way of changing things. Life, and the crazy hours Seth had kept trying to get his business off the ground.
His brothers would understand when they got their fat checks from the sale of his company. A few million each was plenty of insight as to why Seth’s single-minded focus on achieving his goals had been worth months of missed Sundays drinking beer and watching rugby matches on satellite TV.
Theo’s brows were drawn in a disapproving frown. “Tell them I want their asses in here more often. It’s been too long since I last heard their noisy accents,” he said before heading off to the kitchen.
“I will.” He needed to contact his brothers regardless. Dillon had spread today’s good news. Seth had taken a quick congratulatory call from Heath in the cab, but didn’t talk long with Harper sitting beside him, and Zach had sent a text to his phone. Aced it, kid. Typical of his Harley riding brother. A man of few words.
There was time later to catch up. Right now, he had other priorities.
“Do you usually have such trouble deciding what to eat?”
“Yes.” Harper shrugged. “I’m hopeless at making up my mind on food. I like everything. Then, when I get my meal, I wonder if I’ve made the right choice.” Her lower lip pushed out. “It places a lot of pressure on the dish in front of me.”
Seriously fucking cute.
“I see your dilemma. But you own a café. How do you make up your mind for what’s on your menu each day?”
She straightened. “Easy. I have a set menu.” Her gaze shone bright as she explained. “It never varies until we’re changing seasons, or it’s a special occasion. It’s how I got the name for the café.”
“Seven Dishes.” Seth remembered she had mentioned the name earlier at the reception.
“That’s right.” Harper sipped her white wine and continued. “We serve seven main dishes.”
Seth stared at her a second. “Seven only? No special orders?”
“Nope.” Harper shook her head, and the flickering light from the candle in the red glass tumbler in the middle of the table highlighted the streaks of caramel brown he hadn’t noticed before. “This way, everyone knows what they’re ordering. We have a gluten free pasta dish and a salad for those who want to eat light, but everything else is comfort food.”
“Plus coffee,” Seth added. Dillon had raved about his morning java for over a year. Obviously, the staff at Seven Dishes included a decent barista.
“Coffee is its own food group, and I have a couple of staff who work my kick-ass machine like it’s their bitch.” She rested her clasped hands on the table and sat forward, pushing her cleavage higher, teasing him with skin the color of light peach. How would those breasts feel in his hands? Heavy? Soft? “You have no idea how serious people are about getting a good coffee in the morning. We sometimes have crowd control issues.”
He shifted in his chair as the fit of his pants grew tight with some crowd control issues of his own. Thank fuck she was facing the wall behind him, and he had that view all to himself.
But he wanted to know more. “What made you decide to open a café?”
“I like the idea of doing my own thing. Working in a corporate environment isn’t a good fit for me, too regimented.” Her gaze shone even brighter as she shared more. “I’ve always loved food and the sense of community when sharing what I create with others. Cooking in a commercial setting is more stressful, so I have two chefs. I’m better dealing with the public. We’ve been going two years.” She moved back in her chair as a waiter set a basket of steaming garlic bread on their table and refreshed their drinks. “I had an inheritance from my grandparents on my mom’s side. It was enough to set me up, but I had to make the café a success.”
He was caught up in her excitement, remembering the heady enthusiasm he’d lived on when he’d landed his first big client—a fitness company who wanted a calorie counter app. Huh, it had been a while since he’d felt that same rush.
Holding out the basket, he offered her some bread. “I understand. There are no automatic guarantees in business.”
“That’s for sure.” She selected a slice of the fragrant starter. “Thanks, I love this stuff,” she said and waited until he’d grabbed a slice for himself before taking a bite. Her throaty moan was matched by the way she closed her eyes in apparent gastronomic bliss.
Seth could think of other ways to inspire her to make such deep, satisfied sounds, and none of them involved food, but one in particular involved him feasting on her pussy.
Christ, she was a temptation. “So two years in, what’s the view like now?”
“We’re established in the area, on 1st Avenue near Pike Place Market. It’s competitive, but our customers are loyal and we have businesses around us, a book shop, for example, that feeds us customers and vice versa.” Was that a trick of the light? No, that was definitely a twinkle in her eye when she smiled. “And at least customers know what’s on the menu for the next day.”
He chuckled as Theo placed their meals in front of them. The proprietor made a thumbs up sign behind Harper before walking back to the kitchen.
It didn’t escape Seth that this was the first time Theo had ever commented on a date, visually or otherwise, and Seth had brought a couple here. He was a practical man. The food was amazing, and that meant conversation should flow easily.
Harper wasted no time tasting her risotto, and she didn’t hide her appreciation for the dish. She passed on her compliments to the waiter as he poured more wine and checked on their meals.
As he finished a prawn covered in a zesty tomato sauce, she fired a question.
“So explain to me why your brother Dillon is American and has four Aussie siblings?”
“The Aussie contingent was adopted by Dillon’s mum, Aurora.” He watched as her eyes widened, but she remained silent. “Adam, Zach, Heath, and I were teenagers, living in Sydney. We were runaways, or more correctly, wards of the state.”
“Zach and Adam were friends, had been in a home for ‘trouble
d youth’ ”—Seth made air quotes with his fingers—“for a couple of years. Nobody messed with them. Heath ended up there, and on his first night, copped a thrashing from one of the guards.” For refusing to suck the bastard off in the basement offices. “Adam and Zach walked in on it happening. Took offense and taught the prick a lesson. The three of them ran away.”
He watched her mouth drop, but to her credit, she recovered fast enough to take a sip of her wine.
“At fourteen, I left my foster home and made my way to King’s Cross. I was still learning the rules of the street, and it showed.” Even so, the seedy underbelly of Sydney’s drug and club district was better than avoiding the fists of abusive, drunk foster parents.
Seth’s good looks had opened a couple of doors for him. He’d run drug deliveries for a local nightclub owner as one of the throwaway mules that, if they went missing, were easy to replace. The work gave him money to buy food and pay for the occasional night’s lodging in a boarding house where the supervisor didn’t give a shit that he was taking money from a runaway. And Seth wasn’t complaining. On a freezing cold winter’s night, a bed indoors was a luxury you’d fight for.
“Two months later, Adam saved me from a bashing by a street gang. At sixteen, he was a big bastard. Fought hard and dirty and few won against him.”
The alley in Sydney’s King’s Cross was a shortcut, used by tourists, thieves, and street workers alike. He’d hurried, not looking around him. There’d been no warning. A shove into the brick wall and the sting of a blade pressed against his throat. “Look, it’s a pretty boy.” Hands grabbed at his pockets. Then…a yelp. The knife clattered on the pavement. A thud, before a pained groan. Seth, close to shitting his pants, swallowed as a hulking figure backlit from the streetlights at end of the alley, loomed over him. ”C’mon, kid. Try not to piss me off, and I won’t kick your arse.”
That was Adam, extending the hand of friendship.
Harper stared at him. But he saw no pity in her eyes. Thank fuck for that. Her face held…respect? Could that be right?