Two Can Play (9 page)

“
Okay. Why the hell not?” she agrees with a returning smile.

I sigh silently to myself. I don't think I've ever seen a cuter smile.

I put my hand over hers at the table.

I really like the effect she has on me.

Shivers run down my spine.

She doesn't seem averse to me, either.

I order the fizz and we choose a pizza to share.

It seems she likes super spicy pepperoni, too.

Kate's my kinda girl. She likes her meat hot. I can't wait to watch her put it in that mouth of hers. I'm imagining the cheese dripping down her chin, her tongue licking it off. Her eyes closing as it all hits her taste buds.

My mind seems to be stuck in the sex zone. I'm not usually this bad. Actually, yes I am, but I'm enjoying these thoughts way more than I normally do
.

We nibble some olives and crunch some grissini while we wait.

Our Champagne arrives and we have the usual laugh as the cork pops out.

Why this is so funny I really don't know.

“So tell me...what did your father do?” she asks.

I'm ready with my half-truth.

“He owned some real estate, leased it out.”

“
What about yours?” I fire back.

“
Hey, hang on buddy, I haven't finished my twenty questions yet,” she says, holding her hand up.

“
Ask away then.” I sit back, crunching and sipping happily, gazing at her over the top of my glass.

She's so pretty. I love her eyes and the way she moves.

I can't help a long sigh escaping.

“
Where were you born?”

“
New York.”

“
And how old are you, twenty-eight, I'd guess?”

“
Hey, you're good. I'm twenty-nine.”

“
So when did your family move to Venice?”

“
About ten years ago.”

“
And why was that? Why here?”

“
Because Dad was born here. He met and married my mom in New York. They lived there a long time. I guess he wanted to return to his roots or something.”

“
I take it you didn't get on with your dad either, as he left you nothing in his will?”

“
No, we got along fine in fact. Played golf together. Went to big games, both supported the Giants. He came to New York to visit me a few times. But I guess he thought I was sorted, self-sufficient. I'm single, got a good job, own my own apartment, whereas two of my sisters have families. One's divorced and lives with my mother...they're in their thirties—all of my sisters—and my mother's sixty next year. They're needier than I am. I can understand his thinking. He was a bit of an old-fashioned guy.” I feel a lump in my throat and a mixture of feelings run through me. I'm lying about my dead father—who I loved dearly—to someone I like and am beginning to trust. Someone who has offered me somewhere to live.

Why am I doing this? It's such an ingrained habit. Hiding who I am. Will I ever stop doing it or even want to?

“I hope you don't mind me asking, but what did he die from, Aaron?” Her eyes probe mine.

“
He had prostate cancer, highly aggressive. For six months it was a hard time for us all. I did a lot of crying, seeing the life being sucked out of him, but it still hit me like a brick wall when he died. I really miss the old guy. He was definitely no angel but he kinda held things together...the family I mean.”

Now I'm really choked. I try and stop the tears gathering.

“I'm so sorry.”

She can obviously see me struggling.

“Yeah, well. I had some good times with him. I'll remember those.”

She squeezes my hand and then strokes it. I'm touched.

She's not only extremely pretty, hot and sexy, she's nice and caring, too. Such a lethal combination.

“
So, what about you?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“
Mom works in Vegas in Caesars Palace Casino, as a croupier, and Dad does something in oil. I don't know exactly what, and being Russian, he lives in Russia, so I don't see him much. But both parents keep in touch.”

“
So, before L.A., you lived with your mom in Vegas?”

“
Yeah, until I went to UCLA. Then Dad helped me get a place of my own and I stayed there afterward. I've got some good friends in L.A. I really didn't like the mad heat in Vegas,” she explains.

“
I've never been. To Vegas, I mean.”

“
I don't go there very often myself. Maybe four or five times a year. My mom and I text and email mostly. Keeping contact with my dad's more of a problem. I get the odd call, but he can't speak much English.”

“
And your job, what do you do exactly?”

“
I manage a multimillionaire’s funds.”

“
Really? How did you get into that?”

“
It was through a mutual friend at Uni. She's an heiress...and it's highly confidential, so don't ask me for her name.”

“
How multimillionaire is she?”

“
Very.”

“
Right...and you don't like the job? Doesn't it pay well?”

“
It pays well enough, but it's not very creative, moving money around, checking interest rates and investments. Besides, I like my song and poem writing. That's what I really want to do.”

“
Have you published or sold anything yet?”

“
I've self published some stuff on the Internet. And short stories. That kind of thing. I've had a few sales. But I haven't been able to get a publisher interested in me yet. Still, it's early days.”

Our huge pizza arrives and interrupts our chat.

“Aaron, this is way too massive,” she says with wide eyes.

She's absolutely right. I should have ordered the medium.

I forgot the large covered more than half the table.

I tear a slice off and dab a little hot sauce on it and shove it in my mouth, manly style, while she cuts hers nicely with her knife and fork. 

“Oh pick it up and dive in, girl.” I laugh.

I slide the chili sauce over to her and watch in amusement as she loads her slice with it.

Spoonful after spoonful.

Oh fuck... I should stop her. But this could be entertaining...

I hide my smirking face behind my hand.

She picks it up daintily and takes a big smothered-in-sauce bite.

I watch with bated breath for the choking, spluttering explosion.

The sauce here is killer hot.

But not a flicker of pain crosses her face.

“
That's unreal!” I exclaim in admiration.

“
What is?” she asks.

“
You, eating that and surviving the experience.”

“
Mmm, kinda spicy, isn't it?”

“
Spicy? Volcanic you mean?”

“
Nah, not to me. I'm immune.”

“
How can you be immune to chili?”

“
I can eat them raw, got a high chili threshold. The scovilles don't bite me much.”

“
No way.”

“
Seems so.”

“
Well I never...hot writing, hot looks, hot taste buds. Got anything else on the hot list?” I joke pointedly.

“
Sadly not. I'm an ice queen in other ways.”

That's gotta be a joke. She's hotter than the sun in my opinion.

“Your waiter friend must like ice then,” I joke back. “I take it those roses were from him?”

“
Marco is a very sweet guy...but they were an apology.”

“
For what?” I pry with my best coaxing smile.

“
Never you mind,” she says with a grin.

“
When are you seeing him again?” I ask.

I'm planning to monopolize her, so she doesn't have much time to “see” him at all. I'm going saturate her brain and everything else with me instead.

“Tomorrow at the cafe.”

“
Maybe I'll come along and meet him, if you don't mind?”

“
Well, yeah. I do.”

“
Oh. And why's that?”

“
Aaron, we're just getting together. I don't think bringing you to meet him is gonna go down so well, is it?”

“
I'll behave myself. Promise.”

“
It's not just your behavior, it's the whole drop-dead-sexy you.”

“
Drop-dead-sexy, eh?” I'm really pleased with that description. Not that I haven't been called it before. But it sounds even better coming from her.

“
Oh come on, you know you are.”

“
And...?” I prompt.

“
And what?”

I take her hand across the
table. Oddly, her eyes flicker with alarm. I rub my thumb across the back of it and look at her seriously.

“
Look, Kate, I really like you.” I stare into her eyes with a flutter of hope in my chest, noticing she's breathing heavily. “I came to find you today, to ask you out on a date. Obviously being invited to live with you was a much better alternative.”

She pulls her hand away from mine sharply.

“You're my guest. Don't make things complicated.”

“
I'd kinda like the idea of getting complicated with you.”

“
Aaron, please...it's not that I don't like you that way. But I've just started seeing Marco,” she says quietly, pleading.

“
I'll have to knock the competition off the field then, won't I?” I stare into her eyes, deadly serious.

She gives me a dark look; she's definitely not happy right now. I've confused her plans. I need to tone it down. Be more subtle
.

I try a humorous approach to lighten the atmosphere.

“Let's see how it goes. Co-habit for a week and see if the attraction survives.” I smile in what I hope is an appealing manner.

The humor and my winning smile seem to work as she laughs out loud.

“Now then, hot stuff, let's eat some more of this monster, shall we?” I say, diving in.

I might have to pull out all the stops with this one. She's got right under my skin, down to the bones, in just about every way that appeals to me. And, it seems, a few new ones as well. But I've got a week. Tons of time to work my way in there.