That Sexy Stranger

by Nadia Lee

  Ah. There. A small frown that vanishes as quickly as it creases his forehead. I would’ve missed it if I weren’t staring at him so intently.

  He gives me a smile, but somehow it doesn’t look carefree and light. It’s more like the kind that I do when I hear that the critical bug fix I implemented affected something in another module, so another team has to adjust.

  But his tone is cheery as he says, “If it’ll make you happy, ask me whatever you want during dinner.”

  Hmm. Maybe I’m overthinking this. The small frown could’ve been for an idiot on the road. We have plenty of those. “Are you going to answer all my questions?”

  “As well as possible.”

  I grin. “Deal.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The restaurant is lovely and quite pricey-looking. Surprising, since most guys would’ve chosen a mid-tier place for a first date. That way, if things don’t work out, they aren’t out a lot of money. And I say as much to Luke.

  He laughs softly. “I never go in with the expectation that things aren’t going to work out.”

  I arch an eyebrow.

  “I don’t believe in playing safe. I play to win.”

  I poke his side with my finger. It would’ve been an incredibly arrogant statement, but the wink that comes after it makes it playful. Still, I doubt it was all talk. There’s a confidence in him that’s as inherent and genuine as light from the sun.

  After taking our seats, we’re handed menus, written in elegant calligraphy in both Japanese and English. The table’s set with beautiful jade lacquered chopsticks, inlaid with gold and small white pearlescent stones. I can’t help but run my fingers admiringly along the smooth utensils before ordering some nigiri and sashimi a la carte. I have my preferences, and most places don’t have a set with everything I want. Luke orders a tuna sashimi platter with a serving of tai. Our waitress is a gorgeous Asian woman with lustrous black hair that flows like an onyx river down her back. She gives him a winsome smile as she jots down his choice, but he barely acknowledges it, as though she’s about as interesting as a pebble.

  “Pretty basic,” I say.

  “No need to get fancy when the basic stuff’s good.” He adds a bottle of saké to our dinner, chilled to the temperature of the fish we’re about to be served.

  And once we’re finished, he dismisses her without a smile, while somehow avoiding appearing rude.

  It’s a definite point in his favor. Most of my exes would’ve given her a smile and tried to catalogue her assets—subtly, of course, as though I wouldn’t notice.

  While waiting for our food, we chat about nothing important. It gives me a chance to observe him, and we can talk about things that matter later without interruption after our entrées have arrived.

  He speaks easily, mostly about various trips around the world, because that’s what I ask him about. I listen, my hands around my cup, warm from hot green tea, but my mind isn’t really on his international adventures. His voice is even and light, and there’s a hint of laziness that reminds me of a luxuriously indolent afternoon. He sounded almost breathless against my neck that morning, and the memory sends a streak of hot longing pulsing through me.

  Wonder if he’d sound like that again if we spent a languid afternoon in bed. And would he be masterful? Maybe he prefers to coax. That’s sexy too. Maybe a little rough? I wouldn’t be averse…

  He might be able to go all afternoon. After all, he’s in fantastic shape. Hmm. I’ve never done it for an entire afternoon. It could get exhausting. I have a feeling Luke’s a demanding lover. But that’s what evening’s for—recuperation.

  I squirm as my mind goes through one porno scenario after another. One spectacular kiss and some pink peonies, and I’m already cataloguing the Kama Sutra. I blame my exes. They were okay lovers, but not great—hamburgers, like I said.

  Finally, our entrées arrive on two beautifully glazed white and blue rectangular plates. I raise my eyebrows at the freshly grated wasabi, which is both relatively rare and quite expensive. Luke doesn’t seem to notice my reaction, and I don’t comment out loud. I debate whether to snap a picture, then decide against it. I never take photos on the first five dates anyway. That’s just the discovery phase, and most of the time, things don’t go as far as number five. Although…I have a feeling that Luke can go farther than any guy I’ve been with.

  “So,” I say after the first bite of heavenly uni. Thanks to years of practice, I can use chopsticks elegantly. And I note Luke uses his well, too. Definitely another point in his favor. A man dexterous enough to use chopsticks with expertise should be really good at other things. “Why me?”

  He shrugs. “Why not you?”

  I give him a look.

  “I like you. It’s that simple.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to like me.”

  “Sure I do. You’re clear about what you want, and you don’t play games. That’s refreshing.”

  “But how did you get that?”

  “I knew it the moment I saw you in that suite.”

  My failed seduction attempt. I flush, then blurt out, “But surely you must know I was there for David.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I place a hand over my eyes in dismay. That was totally not part of my plan for the day—and a legit terrible thing to say, something that can potentially derail the conversation and evening. I’m usually a lot smoother than this.

  He merely shrugs as though I mentioned something as relevant as the atmospheric composition of Pluto. “I don’t think he’s right for you. I just need to wait until you see that for yourself.”

  “Not right for me? I’ve been waiting for four years!”

  “Because he’s loyal, faithful, smart, and well-bred and -mannered.”

  “He is, and those are important to me.”

  “But you never mentioned a spark.”

  “Is that why you sent me that quote?”

  “Smart girl.”

  “What if I hadn’t looked it up? What if I’d assumed it meant ‘I like chicken for dinner’?”

  He laughs. “You’re too curious not to.”

  True enough. It’s honestly surprising that he knows me so well already. It’d be disconcerting if I hadn’t already decided I like him.

  He pours saké for both of us. “Your turn. Why’d you change your mind?”

  “About?”

  “Me. I doubt you suddenly decided I’m loyal, faithful, and all that in the last thirty-six hours or so.”

  Sipping the saké, I study him through my lashes. He isn’t annoyed or being sarcastic or anything like that. What he is is curious. Since I plan to lay out the rules for our relationship, I can tell him point blank. Besides, as much as I love Japanese food, I’ve never learned the Japanese art of beating around the bush. “The kiss. It was pretty memorable.”

  The grin he gives me is so damn wicked, it ought to be rated X. “So a kiss is all it takes to change your mind? I’ll have to remember that.”

  I squirm as my skin tingles. “But the kiss isn’t all. I had a private meeting with David yesterday.”

  “Oh?” He arches an eyebrow, but I swear his eyes narrowed for fraction of a second there. “How did that go?”

  “Pretty well.”

  “Yet you’re here.”

  “Because there wasn’t any spark.”

  He smirks.

  “Just so you know, a spark isn’t everything as far as I’m concerned. Your Facebook profile says you’re single. That’s up to date, right?”

  “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

  I’m this close to tossing out, “All guys say that,” but I catch myself. Lumping him with the subhuman trolls I’ve dated would be unfair. He hasn’t done anything to deserve it. “Just so there’s no misunderstanding, I have a clear plan and rules about…this.” I flick my forefinger back and forth between him and me.

  “Do I get a say?”

  I scowl. He’s the first one to ask me about having some input.
r />   “Never mind. Tell me your plan, so I can see if I agree.”

  “If you don’t agree, we’re finished before we start.”

  “Just a tad autocratic, aren’t we?”

  “I know what I want, and I’m not deviating from it.”

  He gestures at me to continue.

  “We take the relationship one week at a time. We can renew by mutual agreement. If we decide it’s not for us, we can end it anytime and we don’t owe each other anything, not even an explanation.” I pause to gauge his reaction.

  He merely offers me some tai…which I take. There’s no way I’m turning down sea bream.

  I swallow it and clear my throat. “Anyway… As long as we’re together, we’re monogamous. No cheating. No lies. Either one is a deal breaker—open book only, please. So now’s your chance to tell me any baggage you have.”

  “Such as?”

  “A side chick. A baby or two—secret or otherwise. You working for the CIA as a double agent.” I remember the huge incident that almost ended Matt and Jan’s relationship. “Any secret inheritance or fortune hunting and so on.” I watch him intently. This is important. If he’s not worth the emotional investment, I’m cutting it off now. I don’t care how good a kisser he is.

  Luke’s sharp eyes roam over my face as though he’s trying to read my mind, but his mouth is…well, it’s twitching. What did I say that’s so amusing?

  “No secret women or babies. I’m completely free and clear. You? Any secret boyfriends…or girlfriends?”

  I almost spew my saké. “Of course not. And no diseases? STDs?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” I nod. “I’m clean, too, but birth control is a must. I’m not ready to be a mommy.” Ideally, I’ll be at least twenty-six before I even consider having children. At least, that’s the plan, although it’s sort of tricky. It’s completely contingent on birth control working properly. I haven’t forgotten—or forgiven—our asshole neighborhood pharmacist, a man who thought it’d be fun to give placebos to the women who came to him for BC.

  “Agreed.” Luke tilts his head and watches me. “Is this when you pull out a polygraph?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No, but I thought it might put your mind at ease.”

  “Not necessary. I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were a liar.”

  He gives me a smile so brilliant, I can’t help but stare as my pulse spikes. Stuff like that should be illegal. It’s really distracting, and it’s weird to have him distract me, because the only things that distract me are work, family, and friends. I sip my saké to gain some time to regroup.

  “Do you have anything you want out of the relationship? Or any deal breakers?” I ask.

  He considers, his gaze speculative. Hmm. Is he coming up with a list of sex acts we have to do at least once a week? One of my exes did. As long as it isn’t anything too out there, I’m down. Well…I’m not doing anal, but only because I plan to save that for my third or fourth year of marriage. Heard that’s when things can get stale in bed, so anal will be a good way to spice things up again. My future husband will appreciate the newness of the experience—or at least he should for popping my anal cherry. Seriously, I’m like the most thoughtful and sweet prospective wife ever, not that I plan to marry anytime soon. Only if the guy I’m with can convince me he isn’t just the love of my life but my partner for life, because there’s an appreciable difference between the two. It’s like there’s a pyramid of men, and Partner for Life occupies the top position, with just enough space for one person, while the love of my life is one level below, with enough space for several men. And so far, David is the only man I know who has all the desirable attributes that would put him at the very top.

  “Trust.”

  I blink. Did he just say trussed?

  “Can you elaborate?” I ask finally. A little bondage is fine, but this sounds like something major. With, like, itchy ropes and—

  “I want your trust while we’re together.”

  “Oh.” I clear my throat, my cheeks warm. I shouldn’t have let my mind wander in the gutter for so long. Now I look like an idiot. I finish my saké. “You can have it, so long as you don’t lie or cheat on me.”

  He gives me that slow, ten-thousand-candlepower smile. “Deal.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The rest of the dinner goes well. Or rather, I really want it to go well, but it actually doesn’t go that great. Luke and I are on the same page, and that’s always a good thing because we won’t have false expectations. I’m big on that.

  But instead of basking in the afterglow of a successful pre-relationship negotiation, I’m doing my best not to smash my phone to bits. Would it be illegal to create an app that connected hit men with potential clients? There’s gotta be a demand for one.

  My phone’s gone off seven times since Luke said, “Deal.” The first two times, I thought it might be from the migration team. But no. They’re texts from an unknown number. The latest one reads: Come on. It’s been long enough that you should be over it by now. I love you, babe.

  I don’t have to do any fancy snooping to know who sent them. It’s Gerald. I block the number. And the next one. And the next one. But somehow he keeps sending me texts via brand-new accounts. How many burners did he buy?

  “Sorry,” I say to Luke for the ten millionth time. My smile is getting tighter and tighter. I’ve never been this embarrassed on a date before because it’s my policy not to make the guy feel unwanted in some bullshit passive-aggressive way. If I’m bored, I just tell him things aren’t working out, get up and leave. But this…! Argh! “Can’t turn off the phone because I’m on call this weekend,” I explain again.

  “It’s fine.”

  I put the phone back—again—and try to concentrate on the man in front of me. “Tim said you’re going to be at Sweet Darlings Inc. for four weeks. What are you doing, exactly?” I lean forward. “You aren’t an intern, are you?”

  “What if I am?”

  “We don’t have an official interoffice dating policy, but Alexandra isn’t exactly a fan. I’m sure she’d frown on a fling with an intern, me being in a position of power and all.” Although that’s sort of hot…in a very naughty and unconventional way. How many times do women get to hold all the power over a guy in an interoffice relationship? There’s a reason you don’t see The CEO’s Male Virgin Gigolo Intern on bookshelves. Too unrealistic—at the moment, anyway…

  “Don’t worry.” Luke laughs. “I’m there purely to observe. For research.”

  “For what? You trying to decide if you want to be an app developer?”

  “No. I have no desire to be a programmer. I…write.”

  “For a magazine?”

  “No, nothing like tha—”

  My phone goes off again. Another unknown number, calling me “babe.” A contract killer’s too good for Gerald. I need a contract torturer.

  When the bastard sends me the twenty-fourth text of the evening, I’ve had enough. I sigh and look at Luke. “Could you just excuse me for a moment? I need to use the restroom.”

  I go to the back, where the restaurant has a couple of unisex bathrooms, and dial the number, while fantasizing about the various ways I can ensure that Gerald will never hold a phone again.

  “Sammi! I knew I could get through to you eventually.”

  With supreme willpower, I unclench my jaw. “Hi, Gerald. Still keeping Satan’s pitchfork all nice and shiny?”

  “Come on, Sam—”

  “What part of ‘we’re finished’ did you not understand?”

  “C’mon, just give me another chance,” he whines. “I sent you flowers at work.”

  “Never got them.” I had Loretta, the Sweet Darlings lobby receptionist, toss out all red rose deliveries addressed to me.

  “What the fuck? I paid for those!”

  “Glad to hear it. Theft is a crime.”

  “Sammi, we need to talk. About us.”

  “There is no us
. There wasn’t an us the moment you decided to cheat on me.”

  Gerald is either obtuse or doesn’t care. But then, he never was good at getting the hint. “It’s been, like, two weeks. You should’ve gotten over it by now.”

  “As it happens, I did. I can’t even remember what your face looks like anymore.”

  He breathes like a horse after a race, making me shudder. “C’mon. It was just one time.”

  “One or one thousand, it doesn’t matter.”

  “I treated you like a princess!”

  “Didn’t have much choice, with that pea-sized dick. And in what fairytale does the prince cheat on the princess?”

  “She came on to me! You saw that!”

  God grant me a winning lottery ticket, because I’m definitely hiring a ninja to break Gerald’s fingers. And then go to work on his larger joints. “You’re an adult, and it was your choice. And yes, I saw the whole scene, and I only believe what I witnessed with my own eyes, not the shit coming out of your mouth.”

  “You’re being inflexible!” he yells.

  “You’re damn right, I’m inflexible!” I hiss, embarrassed and furious. A two-timing ex who sends me tons of texts on my first date with another guy is worse than a slug swimming in my saké. “I told you no cheating and no lies, and what did you do? Both! I told you it’s over, so just accept it. Go find yourself someone more flexible.” Since I don’t have the funds to afford a ninja yet, I go for the second-best option. “Next time you contact me, I’m siccing my brothers on you. I have three, and not only are they bigger and tougher than you are, two of them are attorneys.”

  I hang up, my hand clenched around the phone. I resist the urge to throw it. Hurling the phone would hurt me more than Gerald.