She's Got Dibs (12 page)

The afternoon was spent flipping through receipts, making stacks, and itemizing lists she entered into her computer. When the phone rang, she jumped, and then scowled at her desk clock. Who would be calling to discuss wedding plans after six on Saturday? “TNT Entertainment, this is Tessa.”

“Do you have plans for dinner?”

The deep timbre of Dibs’s voice caressed her ear and she smiled. “Tonight’s entrée? Airplane peanuts.”

“Ah…I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count.”

“Right. But you bought me dinner last night, remember?”

“There’s a limit?”

She laughed. “No, there’s no limit. I just didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon.” Phone braced between her shoulder and ear, she clicked the floral total into the invoice.

“I’m free for dinner, so I thought I’d call and see if you were free. It’s no big deal.”

“Depends,” she said. “What are you in the mood for?”

“So…if I say the wrong thing, you’re not going?”

Another laugh shook her shoulders. Poor guy. But she was serious about them being friends and
only
friends. And dinner two nights in a row skated toward thin ice territory. Then again…

Another evening with him might present the perfect opportunity to double-check his motives…or at the very least lay down some ground rules. Better that than losing out on his friendship entirely. “With me? One never can tell, Dibs. One can never tell.”

“I’ll pick you up in fifteen.” His smile echoed through the line.

“Make it thirty.” With a quick shake of her head, she dropped the receiver into the cradle.

****

A sleek, black Jaguar slid to the curb. Tessa pushed up from the brick façade of her office building, head lodged to the side as she squinted past the bright sunspot reflecting off the tinted windshield.

She straightened when Dibs stepped from the car, rounded the front, and swung the passenger side door open. “I thought you said thirty minutes.”

“I finished quicker than I expected.” She stopped in front of him, standing inside the open car door.

“You shouldn’t wait outside. Downtown isn’t safe after five on Saturday.”

She rolled her eyes and sat in the car, baring her teeth in a cheesy grin when he slammed the door.

After he’d pulled onto the street, she shifted in her seat, appraising his dark blue slacks, the starched button-down shirt, and gray V-neck sweater. The man dressed to impress. She faced the windshield. “You’re going the wrong way.”

Amusement hinted along his lips as he peeked at her from the corner of his eye. “Where are we going?”

“Venus. Chicken shish kabob.”

He veered right and she clutched the shoulder strap when he executed a tight U-turn and sped in the opposite direction.

What was that? An example of his amazing driving prowess? “You’re going to get a ticket,” she said.

“Well, maybe if you had told me where we were going, I wouldn’t have had to turn around. If I get a ticket, I say you pay for it.”

She sputtered. “If you get a ticket, the only thing I’m paying for is my own dinner—in Greektown—while you plead your case to the officer.”

A grand smile plumped the maître d’s cheeks when they entered the restaurant. He welcomed Dibs by name and shook his hand before leading them directly to a small table in the corner. Once seated, Dibs requested a bottle of wine and a saganaki appetizer, and the rotund man nodded and snapped his fingers in the air.

A waiter rushed over, an open bottle of the selected wine and two chilled glasses in hand. The candlelit ambiance surrounding the private table fairly oozed romance, the clink of fine china and stemware under murmuring conversations completing the enchanting atmosphere.

Tessa cast a shrewd glance at Dibs from her seat adjacent to his. Even though she’d picked the restaurant, he’d apparently been here before. Likely in an effort to charm some anorexic super model…or a glittering starlet. Or both.

She crossed her arms. “So, now that you got me out to dinner again, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“You need to let it go, Rex.” He flipped open his menu.

“Call me crazy. I just find it hard to believe an eligible bachelor like yourself didn’t already have plans on a Saturday night.”

“My plans got cancelled. And anyway, what about you? Nothing on your schedule this weekend?” He tossed the closed menu onto the table.

“My weekends are usually filled with work-related events.” She selected her menu and perused the entrées. “You caught me right before the spring rush.”

“Well, then, I consider myself a lucky man.”

She arched a brow. How lovely. But the stilted sincerity of that line sounded rehearsed. Coupled with the waitstaff’s watchful attention to keep their water glasses filled, such phrases probably worked wonders on the aforementioned arm candy. “Just a word of advice? You should look into getting some new material.”

He barked a laugh. “That’s why I like you, Rex. You never hesitate to say exactly what’s on your mind.”

She set her menu aside and reached for her wine. Perhaps it was time for ground rule number one. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Of what?”

“Of us being friends. Shouldn’t we be able to say what’s on our minds without worrying about hurting each other’s feelings?”

“I suppose.” Dibs angled away from her, eyelids heavy with suspicion.

“I mean, let’s face it. I don’t think either of us wants or needs a friend that glosses over everything. What’ll that get us? Nothing, right? Besides, you’re too smart for it, and frankly, so am I.”

He squinted.

“So if you’re really serious about this friends thing, I think we should agree right now to always tell each other what’s on our minds.”

“Oh, I see where this is headed now.” He nodded. “You didn’t get the answer you were looking for the first time, so you came up with a new way to find out what you wanted to know.”

Dammit!
“All I’m saying—”

“That was actually pretty good. Great business strategy. Trick the other guy into agreeing with you, before he can figure out what he’s agreeing to.”

“I would
never
.” She slapped a hand to her chest.

The waiter arrived bearing a plate of sizzling cheese, and after jotting down their orders, he gathered the menus and left.

Dibs draped his napkin over his leg before offering her the appetizer. “So, basically you’re saying friends can’t go to dinner more than one night in a row.”

“Not at all.” She spooned some molten deliciousness onto her plate.

“What about them?” He tipped his head toward two women having dinner at the next table. “Maybe we should ask them if they’ve already been to dinner this week. They may not know they’re breaking some sort of secret ‘friend code’ you’ve got worked out in your head.”

“Okay, now you’re just being cynical.”

“Or what about those two? Maybe we should let them know.”

She followed his nod to a young man and woman seated a few tables away, their chairs mere inches apart, smiling shyly at one another over their empty plates. “I’m pretty sure they’re more than just friends.”

“Uh huh, and what about those two?” Dibs jerked his chin toward a middle-aged couple, both concentrating on their meals and, based on their lack of conversation, with absolutely nothing to say to each other.

“Married.” She lifted her wineglass. “With children at home being watched by a babysitter. He’s currently thinking about how much their meal’s going to cost and if the bill includes free coffee refills, and she’s worrying about Timmy’s next orthodontic appointment and whether or not the doctor is going to prescribe head gear.”

Dibs froze, eyes wide. He tossed his head back and a deep hearty laugh roared from his throat. He lightly pounded a fist against the table, the crinkles high on his cheeks an adorable accent to the severe cut of his jaw. “You suffered a serious trauma in your formative years, didn’t you?”

Tessa chuckled into her wineglass. Yeah, okay,
she
was the crazy one. “Tell me why men do that?”

He frowned, though the humor in his eyes had lightened them to match the gray of his sweater. “Do what?”

“Assume because they don’t think the way women do, we’re automatically crazy.”

A lop-sided smirk deepened the laugh lines on one side of his cheek. “Oh no, not this topic.”

“Just as an example, tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Bah.” She flipped her hand dismissively. “How can you say that? It’s
impossible
for you to be thinking nothing.”

He planted his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “All right, how’s this? I’m thinking how delightful it is to have dinner with you twice in a row.”

Now
there
was a genuine compliment. But he wasn’t getting off that easy. “Okay, fine. Exactly proves my point. Men only think about one subject at a time. Women, on the other hand, think about several things all at once. It’s part of our survival tactics; it’s the way we’re built, and because of this, men automatically assume we’re crazy.”

His full lips pursed against the hint of a smile. “All right, I’ll bite. What are
you
thinking about right now?” He pushed his wine aside as the waiter delivered their dinner.

“Well, I’m thinking how delightful it is to have dinner with you again.” She opened her napkin across her lap. “But I’m also considering how many calories are in this chicken, I’m trying to recall if I added the chocolate truffles to the invoice I started earlier today, I spent a brief moment debating if I should find a good placement service, and I’m currently agonizing over these shoes and wondering how much longer before I can remove them from my feet.” She popped a bite of chicken into her mouth, smiling as she chewed.

He paused, a skewered piece of his filet hovering in midair. “You’re really quite scary, you know that?”

“Consider yourself lucky.” She used her fork to point at him. “I just gave you a piece from the vault.”

“Ah. The ever-popular women’s vault of secrets. I’ve heard about that.”

“It exists, you know.”

“Yeah? What else do you keep in there?”

“The usual. Our hopes and dreams, but most importantly, how we really feel about things.”

He peered at her from under his brows. “Meaning it would be asking too much for women to just
say
how they really feel?”

She slumped. Oh, the sweet, clueless man. A long-suffering sigh rushed from her throat as she shook her head.

“What?”

“Well, why in the world would we do that?”

Scanning the tables nearest them, he leaned close. “Because it would make things a lot easier,” he whispered.

She smiled, her hand instinctively rising to cup his cheek. “Yes, but then how would we ever know if you’re paying attention?”

His grin lifted her palm, the stubble of his five o’clock shadow tickling the sensitive skin, eyes sparkling like a clear beacon in the low candlelight.

Her breath caught. The way he held her gaze, so tender and kind. If she tipped her head the slightest bit, they could share a kiss. She dropped her hand and withdrew. What the
hell
was that? But the linen tablecloth held no answers.

She’d come at this dinner with her eyes wide open, but even so Dibs’s easy-going manner had broken through her defenses. That had to be the reason for the faint fluttering of her heart…the warm cascade of adrenaline tingling in her belly.

Regardless, the moment lingered, and uncomfortable silences were never good.

She cleared her throat, brushed her wispy bangs from her eyes. “Keep that information to yourself, will you? A girl could get banned if word got out.” Hopefully her smile didn’t convey her discomfort.

Dibs chuckled and swiped his napkin across his lips. But his small nod expressed much more than simple agreement. He knew exactly what had passed between them.

The remainder of the meal, she rearranged the food on her plate, answering his questions about her family, the simple carefree days she enjoyed growing up in a small Midwestern town.

Thankfully the mundane topics helped her relax, the tension in her shoulders slowly ebbed. But the most startling revelation she accredited to Dibs. Even though he could easily have taken advantage of her vulnerability, teased her, or even closed the distance between them and stolen a kiss, he did none of those things.

She liked him for that. It was sweet the way he had taken a moment that would have normally made her run for the hills and turned it around. His efforts to increase her comfort ignited a small glow of appreciation that warmed her from the inside out, and the longer she remained seated beside him, the deeper her admiration grew. Perhaps, in some small way, she could even trust him.

As their meal drew to a close, she surveyed the emptying restaurant, finding she had done most of the talking while Dibs seemed content listen to her speak. And while she held no qualms about his interest being genuine, she had to admit her curiosity had been sparked as well. “So, at the risk of sounding like a complete idiot, what exactly do you do all day?”

“Been thinking about me, huh?”

She pinned him with a challenging brow.

“I’m the CEO of the Brenner Foundation. We’re a charitable organization that works with big money-making firms to ensure they spend enough in donations each year to declare a big tax write-off. We allocate the funds so the organizations that receive them get the most bang for their buck.”

“And you inherited this foundation?”

He snorted. “No. I started it.”

“Really? How come?”

“Well, for a long time I was your run-of-the-mill, spoiled rich kid. Partying, jetting around, no respect for authority…you know.” Fingertips braced on the rim of his coffee cup, he twisted the base back and forth on the saucer.

“I hit bottom at twenty-five. But, of course my bottom was in the penthouse suite at the Plaza Hotel, with a room full of friends and a closet stocked with contraband.”