Nayla felt a twinge of embarrassment when he looked at her that way, as if she was begging his ass, but she managed to smile and lift her glass just the same. She knew when to hold’em.
“Here’s to Grace,” she said, and he did lift his glass in acknowledgement of her toast. But he quickly turned his attention away from Nayla, and back to Grace. Which was fine by Nayla because she wasn’t impressed. Not with his good looks, not with his beautiful hair, not with his fancy clothes and jewelry. There was something hard-edged about Tommy Gabrini. Something ruthless. And it wasn’t just because he had poured shade on her flirtation, either.
But for some reason she knew that name. She didn’t know why, or in what context, but she’d heard his name before. It could have been at Trammel through the years, where she worked as a supervisor in Logistics, but somewhere along the line she’d heard of him before. And she had a serious sense that whatever she’d heard about him wasn’t good.
Nayla’s big hazel eyes continued to stare at Tommy as Tommy stared at Grace. He was leaned back in his chair, his legs crossed, his hands rested in a fold across his lap. She noticed the diamond ring on his finger, and the Rolex watch, and the intrinsically woven silk ascot around his neck. He seemed so country-club sophisticated, as if going to some regular club like Moors was something he didn’t ordinarily do. And although he was ignoring the hell out of Nayla, she couldn’t deny the truth: he seemed fascinated with Grace.
He assessed every inch of Grace, from her long, shapely legs, and her firm, round backside, to her large breasts, but he mainly focused on her face.
Nayla felt a twinge of jealousy as she watched him. Not because Grace had apparently found her a serious catch, but because she had been so unlucky in love herself. And even when she occasionally found somebody, they were never of the caliber of a man like this. Mainly because it had been her experience that the brothers who were that rare trifecta of super-hot, super-nice, and super-rich, were already super-taken. Or, like Jamie, gay as hell.
When the song ended, Jamie and Grace made their way back to the table. She was happy and exhausted both at the same time. Nayla was surprised at the familiar way Grace slumped her body in her chair and leaned against Tommy. As if they were old time friends. And Tommy seemed pleased by the contact, which surprised Nayla. For some reason she had pegged him as a married man. Something about his manner made her think so. But not now. Because the mere fact that he was comfortable in public with Grace usually meant that he probably wasn’t married. Married men who cheated were always uptight in public and often demonstrated distance with their lovers. It was as if they were terrified that they would run into somebody who knew their wives. But there was nothing uptight or distant at all about Tommy Gabrini. From what Nayla could tell he seemed to have no problem whatsoever acknowledging Grace.
“You’re having a ball, aren’t you?” Tommy said to Grace when she slumped against him.
Grace nodded and drained more wine. “A blast,” she said. “I hate surprises, but this one was cool. It’s all right.”
“I wonder why,” Jamie said sarcastically.
Grace grinned. “And I wonder why you’re so happy,” she said.
“Because you’re happy,” Jamie said without hesitation. He lifted his glass of wine. “That’s good enough for me, my friend.”
“How sweet,” Grace said, lifting her glass too. They clang and drank.
But by night’s end, when Tommy and Grace were about to leave, it was Nayla who asked if she could see her friend before she left.
Tommy was a little perturbed by this, and wondered if Nayla was the type who would try to pretend that he had hit on her. But even if she were, he had confidence in Grace. There was nothing about her character that he’d seen so far to make him believe she’d be that easily led.
Grace wondered what it could be about, also, but she didn’t hesitate. “Sure,” she said, and followed Nayla into a side room.
As soon as the door closed, Nayla didn’t mix words. “How well do you know that guy, Grace?” she asked her.
Grace stared at her old friend. She hadn’t expected Tommy to be the reason she wanted to talk to her. But she also knew she had to tread lightly. Nayla had a lot of good qualities, and really was Grace’s best friend, but she wasn’t a perfect friend by any means. Ever since their childhood she had that jealousy thing big-time. She never liked for Grace, or anybody else, to outdo her.
“Why would it matter?” Grace asked her.
“Just answer the question.”
“I won’t just answer the question. Why does it matter?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“I know somebody who used to date him.”
Grace’s heart began to pound. “So?”
“After you introduced us and said his name, I knew I’d heard it before. But I couldn’t place it. Then I remembered. And called Rhonda to be certain.”
Grace frowned. “Who’s Rhonda?”
“A friend of mine from college. And she said yes, he sounds like the same Tommy Gabrini she used to date. And Rhonda is super model gorgeous. She’s no run of the mill looker. Rhonda’s gorgeous, Grace.”
“So he dated a gorgeous girl, so what?”
“I mean you’re cute, but you’re no super model.”
“Thanks a lot, pal,’ Grace said only mildly seriously. “You’re making me feel really good about myself.”
“What I’m saying is that he played the field even on a looker like her.”
Grace hesitated. “I don’t get your point.”
“He plays the field. He never dates one woman at a time. And Rhonda even mentioned something about some other woman he dated for a long time, I can’t remember the name or anything like that. But this woman stood him up at the altar presumably because she found out about some other woman of his or something like that. It all sounded so sordid to me.”
“What’s sordid about it?” Grace asked. “Of course he’s had previous relationships. I’ve had previous relationships. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that he never dates one woman at a time, that’s the big deal. Why would you want to date a man who won’t be faithful to you?”
Grace was understandably disappointed to hear something like that, but it wasn’t as if she and Tommy were dating. And, besides, she already knew what she was in for with Tommy. “I don’t understand what his past relationships have to do with me.”
“He’s a womanizer, Grace. Why would you want a womanizer?”
“Who says I want him? I just met him.”
Nayla stared at her friend. “Do I look like a fool? No woman goes out with a man who looks like him and don’t want it. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
“You have nothing to worry about there, all right? He’s just a nice guy, that’s all. We aren’t exactly picking out wedding rings or anything like that, okay?”
Nayla smiled. “I don’t want you to fall for him and get your heart broken.”
Grace placed her hand on her hip. “Do I look like the type to fall for some ridiculously handsome man I just met?”
“Yes,” Nayla said unabashedly. “You and me both!”
Grace and Nayla both laughed.
“Quit worrying,” Grace said. “I’ll be careful.”
But as she headed out of the room, it was Grace who was beginning to worry.
“I’ll bet I can guess which car is yours,” she said to Tommy as they exited the club and felt the cool night air blow against their faces.
Tommy looked at her. “You already know, don’t you?”
“I don’t. Honest.”
He swept his hand out. “Then go for it,” he said.
Grace smiled and began looking around. There had to be over fifty cars still in the parking lot. She knew two things had to be in play during her search. The car had to be expensive and it had to be unique. She couldn’t see a guy like Tommy rolling any other way. And it was an easy find. When she saw it she
smiled. It didn’t take a genius to know that a red Ferrari in the parking lot of Moors was a rarity.
She hurried to it as soon as she saw it. Tommy followed her.
“This Ferrari,” she said, “has Tommy Gabrini written all over it.”
“Oh, you’re good,” Tommy said, shaking his finger at her. “You’re real good.”
“Bond is my middle name. James Bond.”
He laughed as he clicked his keypad and then opened the passenger door. He really enjoyed her company.
She enjoyed his, too, as she moved around him to slide into the car. She was now so close to Tommy that his belt buckle pressed against her stomach. That closeness, and the scent of his cologne, made her determined to avoid his blue eyes as she sat down. She didn’t want him to see that her level of interest was growing exponentially.
Tommy reached over her and buckled her in. He, too, was feeling the effects of their nearness, but he was seasoned enough to know how not to show it. But unlike her, he couldn’t help but look into her brown eyes. They were so big and clear, he thought, that they sparkled like gold. “Enjoyed yourself?” he asked as he buckled her.
“Oh, yes,” she said, trying with all she had not to sound lustful. His nearness was like a tonic.
“Good,” he said. “I’m pleased.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“I told you I wouldn’t miss this for the world, didn’t I tell you that?”
But that was the point to her. “Why wouldn’t you?” she asked with a smile.
Tommy stared at that bright white smile, at the turn of her lips, and then looked into her eyes again. “I’m not sure yet,” he admitted.
“Well when you find out, do you promise to let me in on it?”
He laughed. He really liked her. “I promise.” Then he kissed her lightly on the nose, stared into her eyes a moment longer, and moved out and closed the door.
Grace watched as he walked around the front side of his Ferrari and then entered by the driver’s side door. He looked good, he smelled good, and Grace, she hated to admit, was growing hornier and hornier the longer she stayed around him. And it wasn’t that she was sex starved (although she was) and wanted to have sex with any man. Her problem was that she very specifically wanted to have sex with him. Tommy Gabrini. She wanted to feel his hands all over her. She wanted to feel his beautiful red lips on hers. She wanted to know what it felt like to have his dick inside of her.
She knew it was super-risky. She knew he was into those so-called “open” relationships and had no interest in any long term love affair with her. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted him. And she wasn’t at all sure what she was going to say when he asked for some. Because she was absolutely certain, by the way he was assessing her all night, he was going to ask.
Tommy buckled his seatbelt and then looked over at Grace. She crossed her legs just as he looked, causing his eyes to roam there. They were so long and so shapely that he found himself looking up her body until he rested on her eyes. Eyes that looked tired to him. And it reminded him of something. During the entire time he was with her, he never once saw her eat a thing. Maybe she ate before he had arrived, but somehow, given her energy, he doubted it.
“You had fun, didn’t you?” he asked her.
“It was a blast,” Grace said with a smile. “I loved every single moment.”
“Eat anything while you were having this blast?”
She smiled. It was an odd question, Grace thought. And she had to think about it.
Tommy stared at her. “You don’t know, do you?”
“I had a finger sandwich,” she recalled. “I think.”
“And what else?”
Grace tried to remember, then decided it didn’t matter. “I wasn’t hungry,” she said. “I was happy. It was a wonderful party. I don’t eat when I’m this happy. My friends really went all out this year and I just can’t get over that.” But Tommy continued to look at her. “I’ll eat something when I get home.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . like. . . oh, that’s right. I haven’t had a chance to get to the grocery store yet.”
“Right,” Tommy said, as if he’d made a decision. He cranked up his car and pulled off, only he began driving in the wrong direction.
“I told you I live in the Valley.”
“I know what you told me.”
“So where are we going?”
Tommy shifted from second to third gear, his sports car jerking and then picking up speed, as he took Grace on what she felt was going to eventually be the ride of her life.
CHAPTER SIX
The door flew open and Frank Jansen, the executive manager of Diamante’s, looked up from his notebook. The waiter was virtually out of breath.
“Mr. Gabrini’s car has just arrived, sir,” he said to his boss.
The manager closed his book. “He’s here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, my,” the manager said, standing to his feet. “Make sure the front of house is on their best behavior.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what about Mort?”
“He’s waiting at the door now.”
“Good,” the manager said, nodding his head. “Alert the chef. And tell him none of his French bullshit. Whatever Mr. Gabrini orders he’s to put everything aside and take care of that order. This is our jobs we’re talking about.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said and took off again. He headed down the hall and was about to go into the kitchen. When he looked toward the front entrance, he could see Tommy Gabrini, with a black woman by his side, enter the restaurant. He also saw that Mort, the maître d, was also there to greet them. The waiter therefore made double time to alert the kitchen.
“Mr. Gabrini, good evening,” the maître d said as he shook Tommy’s hand. “Good to have you back again, sir.”
“Good to be back,” Tommy said as he looked around at the elegant and packed restaurant.
Grace didn’t think they were going to be able to get any kind of table any time soon, but she hadn’t factored in who her date really was.
“Right this way, sir,” the maître d said.
“Thank-you,” Tommy said as he placed his hand on the small of Grace’s back and followed the head waiter.
“Good evening, Mr. Gabrini,” said one waitress as they passed.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Gabrini,” said another one.
“Are they always this friendly?” Grace whispered to Tommy.
Tommy smiled. “I would hope so.”
It was overkill to Grace, as if they were trying too hard for a tip or something. And the way Tommy took it in, as if it was nothing extraordinary to him, surprised her also. She took him to be the kind of man who didn’t care to be fussed over. But as the manager escorted them to a back booth, he seemed perfectly fine with the fuss.
After the maître d took their drink orders and left, another waiter came over to take their food orders. “What can we get for you, sir?” the waiter asked.
And Tommy didn’t hesitate. “Steaks and potatoes for both of us, and a vegetable medley.”
The waiter glanced at Grace, as if wondering if she agreed to such an order, but he didn’t wait to find out. “Yes, sir,” he said to Tommy and then hurried off to place the order.
Grace smiled. “That’s a heavy behind meal,” she said.
“I’m sure we both could use it,” Tommy said.
“Oh, can we now? And why’s that?”
Tommy looked down, at her chest. “We’re going to need our strength,” he said and then looked her in the eye.
Grace’s breath caught. She didn’t know quite how to respond to that.
Before she could formulate any response, the manager came over to their table. He extended his hand. “Tommy,” he said jovially, “good to have you with us again.”
Tommy stood up as the two men shook. Grace was struck by how big Tommy looked, and the presence he commanded. The idea of a man like him
pleasuring her, as he had all but declared by his little comment, was beginning to excite her.
“How are you, Frankie?” he asked.
“Wonderful, sir.”
“Heard you had a good round last week.”
“The best I’ve ever had. Beat my entire party. There’s talk of suspending me from the club as we speak.”
Tommy laughed. And then looked at Grace. “I want you to meet Grace McKinsey. Grace, Frank’s the manager here.”
Frank shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss McKinsey.”
“Nice to meet you,” Grace replied.
Frank then turned his attention back to Tommy. “Have they taken your order?”
“They have.”
“Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“I will. Have a good evening.”
“You, too, sir,” Frank said and walked away. Tommy sat back down.
“My goodness,” Grace said. “I know you should treat your customers well, but they treat you as if you’re a rock star. As if you own the joint.”
Tommy smiled. “Probably because I do,” he said.
Grace stared at him. He owned Diamante’s? She was having dinner with the owner of one of the most luxurious restaurants in Seattle? This date was beginning to become surreal for real, she thought.
“So, Grace McKinsey,” Tommy said, leaning back and placing one hand on his hip, “what’s your story?”
Grace smiled. “My story?”
“That’s right. Everybody’s got one. You said you were born here?”
“I was born in Oregon,” she said. “I was raised here in Seattle.”
The waiter returned with a bottle of the best wine they had to offer. He poured both drinks, left the bottle to chill with them, and then excused himself. Grace immediately took a sip.
“Where in Oregon?” Tommy asked this as she sipped, his blue eyes roaming downward. She wore a simple pale gray dress, tastefully low-cut and complimentary to her body. An inexpensive dress, to be sure, Tommy also noticed, but he liked that unpretentiousness about her.
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