After twenty minutes of mercifully light traffic on the 101, she pulled into an all-day parking lot downtown. Handing the parking attendant her money, she put the ticket on her dashboard and made a beeline for her favorite ramen bar. She thought briefly about stopping by the clothing store with the free-roaming cats, but her grumbling stomach cemented her resolve.
Heading up to the second level of the nondescript plaza, she opened the door to Ichiban and walked into the small waiting area. Glancing around, and then at her watch, she was surprised it was so busy for 2:00 p.m. on a Saturday. Luckily, there were a few seats open at the bar.
The waiter slash host came up to seat her, directing her, of course, to one of the few remaining seats at the bar. Sitting down, she looked over and saw Deacon playing with his phone.
He was dressed in a slate-gray sweater, a pair of worn jeans, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved yet. She hadn’t seen him in anything but a suit and tie in about a decade. There was something indescribably sexy about seeing him this way. So comfortable and relaxed.
Laughing, she said, “Fancy meeting you here.”
Looking up from his phone, frowning, she watched his face transform into a genuine smile.
“Hey. No kidding! We don’t see each other for a decade and now you can’t escape me.”
“Are you here for the face-scorching tan-tan men too?” Sara asked.
“Yeah. Spicy number five with karaage chicken and a marinated egg.”
Wrinkling her nose, she asked, “Marinated egg? Sounds gross.”
Deacon stared at her for a moment, and said, “You’ve got no idea what you’re missing. It’s freaking amazing.”
Skeptically, Sara said, “Mmkay. I’ll take your word on that. I won’t be sullying my bowl with any marinated anything.”
They chatted amicably until the waiter came by to take Sara’s order and drop off Deacon’s gyoza. Gesturing to the food, he asked, “Want one?”
Shaking her head no, Sara pulled out her phone and started to check messages when Deacon scooted his stuff over and took the chair next to hers. He slid the gyoza toward her.
“Sure you don’t want one?” he asked, smiling.
“Nah. I’ve got my own on the way,” Sara answered, staring longingly at the gyoza.
Sensing her inner struggle he dunked one in the soy dipping sauce and held it out to her.
With a sigh, she opened her chopsticks and broke them apart. She snagged it from him and popped it in her mouth.
“Thanks. I was dying.”
“Oh no problem. You are totally trying some of the marinated egg now, though,” Deacon said, laughing a little.
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Nope. Not a chance.”
He chewed thoughtfully on the dumpling and said, “That was the price of the dumpling. Sorry. It’s written in stone now. My hands are tied.”
Laughing, she said, “Really?”
Thoroughly enjoying himself, he popped another gyoza into his mouth.
“Yep. Really.”
As if by magic, Sara’s drink and gyoza chose that moment to arrive. She offered him one of hers in repayment.
Shaking his head, he gestured to the bowl of ramen the waiter was bringing his way.
After the waiter set the bowl down in front of him, he broke the egg apart.
“Nope. Time to pay the piper,” he said, snagging a piece with his chopsticks.
Sara had expected something pink, remembering the only pickled egg she’d ever had. This was a little grayish on the outside, but it didn’t look entirely unappetizing.
He held a piece in front of her mouth with his chopsticks. She gave him a sideways glance.
He was staring at her calmly and expectantly as if to say, “I’m not moving my chopsticks ‘til you take this.”
Giving in, she took the bite. She was surprised by the flavor, expecting something almost grainy in texture with a heavy vinegar flavor, but getting something creamy, almost like a soft-boiled egg instead.
She turned her head after she had finished chewing, and said, “Okay. You’re right. That was actually pretty decent.”
Deacon gave that familiar smirk, and used his chopsticks to stir in the meat and vegetables piled on top of the noodles.
“Told you.”
Laughing she turned to him and said, “And then you just ruined it by being all smug.”
Leaving his chopsticks standing in the mountain of ramen, he held her gaze, his eyes softening.
Not entirely sure what the emotion flickering over his face was, Sara was relieved when the waiter came over to drop off her meal. Taking a bite of the crispy chicken, she gave a happy sigh.
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Sara asked, “So. You’re nothing at all like I remember from school. What happened?” she asked, gesturing at him with her chopsticks.
Deacon stared into space for the longest time. Sara was beginning to think that he didn’t actually hear her question, when he finally spoke.
“Chloe happened, really. Senior year, my mom just took off. Left Chloe home alone for a week by herself. She was only thirteen at the time. I had to go back home and take care of her. Thinking about someone else for once…it changed me.”
Sara’s eyes widened. She had really not expected such a straightforward answer. She didn’t expect to be so moved by it either.
Not sure what to say, she put her hand on his arm, and said, “Wow. I’m sorry. I wasn’t really expecting you to answer me. For what it’s worth though, sounds like Chloe was lucky to have you.”
They drifted back into a companionable silence as they finished their meals.
When the waiter came up with their checks, they each paid, and made their way to the exit.
Deacon asked, “So what else have you got planned for today?”
Shrugging, Sara said, “I’m gonna head over to the bakery in the Japanese Village Plaza, get a cup of coffee, a croissant, then listen to some pretty terrible karaoke. Maybe buy some shit I don’t need. You know, typical Saturday. You?”
“Wide open today. Want some company?” Deacon asked.
Not wanting their time together to end just yet either, she said, “Sure. Was there anything else down here you wanted to check out?”
“I’d like to stop at the bookstore in Weller Court. They’ve got a bunch of paper art stuff. Chloe does a lot of scrapbooking. I was going to get her a bunch of stuff for her birthday, and at least this way I don’t have to go into one of those scrapbooking stores. Some of those women can be very…aggressive.” Sara said, “Aggressive? What, they gave you the hard sell on some glittery letter stickers?”
Smirking, Deacon said, “Ha! I wish. These two little old ladies ran the last one I was in. When I walked in, they started chatting with me. It got weird when I bent to pick something up off the bottom shelf and one of them groped me. She had to have been like, seventy. I felt like a piece of meat!”
Laughing uncontrollably now, Sara said, “But, Deacon, she was probably really experienced. You should have let her drag you into the back. You could have made sweet, sweet love on her couch. You know, the one with the plastic cover?”
Totally deadpan, Deacon asked, “Who says I didn’t?”
After a short pause he added, his gaze smoldering now, “Deloris was the best I’ve ever had.”
Sara examined his face for a moment, as if she was trying to decide whether he was serious or not. She cringed, and remained silent.
Finally his lips twitched, and be began to laugh at her.
“Oh god. You should have seen your face. That was amazing.”
Returning his smirk, Sara raised her hands in the air and said, “Hey. I won’t judge you. To each their own.”
Laughing loudly now, he said, “No. As soon as the lady groped me, I got the hell out of there. That was way too creepy for words.”
Patting his arm and laughing, she said, “Poor guy. At least you know you can always get a little cougar action if times get tough.”
; “Eh. I’ll pass, but thanks. I think,” Deacon said, his laughter finally dying down.
In silent agreement, they made the short walk to the Japanese Village Plaza. Stopping in the middle of the main courtyard, Deacon said, “Coffee first?
Sara nodded and said, “Caffeine.”
Grabbing a Danish and their coffees, they made their way out to the fountain. Sitting on the stone border, they partially faced each other.
“So,” Deacon asked, “what brought you to LA?”
Sara chewed the bite of Danish she had taken, and said, “An overwhelming desire to leave Florida. I was born there, lived there my whole life, and went to school there. I spent my whole life less than twenty minutes from my parents. It was…oppressive. It was time to make a change.”
Nodding, Deacon said, “Twenty-five hundred miles puts a lot into perspective, doesn’t it? But wait, weren’t you a communications major?”
“Yep. I did it for a couple of years out of school and hated it. Everything about it. I decided that the best job I’d ever had was when I worked at a caterer part-time. So I got a full-time job doing that, then picked up as much as I could about the business end of things. About two years ago, I decided it was time to start out on my own. Edible Innovations was born.”
After a beat, she said, “I’ve read the blurb on the web page, but why PR? What made that the thing to do?”
Sipping his coffee, Deacon said, “Wasn’t my idea. Jim…I don’t think you met him yet, but you probably will. I knew him and Chris both from high school. Anyway, Jim inherited a hotel and a bit of money from his grandmother when she passed. He thought about just selling it, but I guess he went into work one day and someone pissed him off, so he said, “Fuck it,” and decided he was going to start his own business.”
Pausing, he took a bite of Danish, then chewed. Continuing, he said, “He knew Chris’s football career was over. He knew I was living in my mom’s old shit-box house, taking care of my sister and working to finish my degree. He decided that we were motivated individuals and that we’d all make a good team. Chris had connections, I had a good head for numbers. He could sell anything to anyone. PR seemed a natural choice.”
Pausing for another sip, he said, “Funny how things worked out, huh?”
Nodding, Sara said, “Isn’t it though?”
Having finished her Danish, Sara sipped the last of her coffee and stood up. She walked over to the garbage can and threw out her trash.
Taking his last bite, Deacon followed suit.
Sara asked, “To the bookstore? I’ll protect you from any old ladies we run into.”
Deacon laughed, then reached down to grab hold of her hand as if it was a natural occurrence, as if they were any old couple, and this was any Saturday. Sara squeezed his hand slightly, smiling.
Deacon tugged her back toward the bookstore, a relaxed smile on his face.
“To the bookstore,” he confirmed.
Walking in amiable silence, they made their way in and out of the bookstore with no incidents of sexual harassment. Deacon found what Sara considered to be an exorbitant amount of scrapbooking materials and was toting a large bag as they wandered back toward the Japanese Village Plaza. All other objectives complete, they decided that listening to some terrible karaoke was next on the agenda.
They sat for about an hour on the edge of the stone fountain, Deacon’s arm wrapped around her waist, her hand on his leg, talking and listening to what may have been the worst renditions of classic rock in the history of time.
The sun was starting to set by this time, and Sara finally said, “I’ve got some errands I need to run today. I’ve been lazy for much longer than I intended.”
Deacon agreed, “Yeah. I was gonna grocery shop and try one of those recipes you sent me. I want to make sure I can actually get it right.”
Sara felt a slight pang in her chest. God he was freaking sweet.
Smiling, Sara said, “I think you’ll be fine. If you run into any snags, call me. I can walk you through them.”
Deacon’s eyes narrowed, “Better yet. Could I bribe you to possibly supervise the process on the day of the party? I don’t want you to do the work really, but would you help me?”
“I’m open to bribery. What exactly did you have in mind?”
“A favor to be determined in the future?” Deacon smiled questioningly.
“Ooh. A blank check, basically. Nice. I’ll take it. It was…” Taking a moment, Sara thought back to the calendar. “…the fourteenth, right?”
“Yep. I thought we’d eat about 7:00 p.m., so with what recipes you sent, what time should I start working on it?”
“Probably 4:00 p.m. I’ll come over about 3:30 p.m. and we can start. I’ll just sneak ou—”
“No no no. You’d be a guest, too. I’m not gonna sneak you out the back before my guests arrive and pretend I did it all myself.”
Snorting, he said, “Nobody would believe me anyway.”Sara’s lips twitched as she nodded and said, “Okay. I’m parked that way, so I’ll see you next week?”
With a slight frown, he asked, “Parked where? The garage?”
“No, the parking lot across from Weller Court.”
“Let me walk you, then. I don’t think that lot is guarded at night and it’s getting dark.”
Falling into step, he took her hand again and they walked silently toward the lot. Upon reaching her car, Sara turned to face him and said, “This was fun. We should do it again. But, you know, on purpose.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle tug to bring her body flush against his. Very much in each other’s personal space at this point, Sara was pretty sure she knew what was coming next. She looked up at him now, and saw his gaze shift from her eyes to her mouth.
He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly over hers. The kiss was gentle, even hesitant at first. As if he was asking her, “Is this okay?”
After he leaned back slightly, Sara swayed forward slightly, not ready to break the contact. She slid her arms around his neck and locked her hands.
He leaned forward to kiss her again, this time tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. Parting her lips to allow him entrance, Sara gave a slight sigh. His hands came up to cup her face, then slid into the hair she had loosely clipped at the back of her head. The kiss was slow and sweet, with just a hint of urgency.
At one point, Deacon pulled back slightly from the kiss, and nibbled on Sara’s lower lip. He mumbled roughly, “This pouty lower lip of yours has been driving me nuts. I’ve been wanting to bite it for days.”
Sara moaned softly, completely aroused by the combination of his rough voice and his teeth on her lips. They stood outside Sara’s car kissing, wrapped up in each other for another fifteen minutes or so before they finally broke apart, both of them panting slightly.
Pulling her close, he rested his chin on top of her head and tightened his hold on her.
Returning his embrace, she finally said, “Wow.”
Laughing, he said, “Jesus. That was even better than I remembered.”
Backing out of his embrace, Sara smiled, still a little stunned and said, “You’re not kidding. I’m gonna get going now. Do you want a ride to your car?”
Shaking his head, he pointed to the luxury condos and said, “I walked. I live right there.”
Touching her cheek one last time he leaned down and brushed a kiss on her lips.
Deacon asked, “Talk to you soon?” Sara stepped back with a nod, got into her car and drove away.
“Jesus,” she muttered to herself. “So much for keeping it professional.”
Chapter 8
Well, so much for keeping shit between them professional. That had literally lasted less than two weeks. They had both known it was going to happen eventually. He thought she might have been overstating things just a bit when she said she’d rather dislike him than be attracted, but…thinking about the last few hours, he wasn’t so sure now. Things were only bound to get more compl
icated between them.
She was the last person he expected to see at the ramen bar. Seeing her, face freshly scrubbed and hair pulled up into a clip, was a shock. He was used to seeing her in either chef’s clothes or a business suit. That little purple tank top and oversized black sweater over those jeans…had done things to him. She was casually beautiful without even trying. God help him, he had been fantasizing about that mouth since she’d shown up in his office.
He was in way over his head.
Having reached his apartment, he called Chris back. After a brief conversation, they agreed to meet at Greeley’s. He was looking forward to a few beers and not having to think about Sara for a bit.
Walking downstairs, he walked the six blocks over to Greeley’s and found Chris at the bar, drink in his hand. Catching his sad expression, he grabbed the seat next to him and said, “Hey…what’s up?”
Snorting, Chris said, “Remember that blonde? Turns out she has a boyfriend. I got an interesting phone call from him about a half hour after she left my place last night.”
Taking another swig, he continued. “How do you not mention that? I mean, I wasn’t expecting her to be all committed to me at this point, but cheating on someone is pretty shitty.”
“You’re not kidding. It’s pretty messed up,” Deacon agreed.
“Oh shit. I didn’t even think about it. I’m sorry. Claire. Fucking bitch,” Chris said, curling his lip up slightly in disgust.
“No. Dude. It’s been almost a year. That’s ancient history, but yeah. Cheating is shitty. So what did the guy say? Was he pissed at you?”
“Nah, that’s the thing. He was up front. He told me who he was, and told me to stay away from her. I told him that wouldn’t be an issue and that I wouldn’t have messed with her if she’d mentioned having a boyfriend.”
Deacon sighed. “People can be pretty shitty. I hate to mention this, but you did meet her at a bar. You may be closer to the bottom of the barrel if you’re picking up chicks at Greeley’s.”
Chris laughed and said, “Deak. Your sister is right over there. You sure you don’t wanna amend that statement?”
Following Chris’s finger, he saw Chloe in a back booth, martini in hand, talking to another woman about her age.
Just a Taste [Private Relations 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 6