Dating Kosher by Michaela Greene Read Free Book Online Page A

from me.
    I put the smile in my voice, trying not to sound as relieved as I felt that he’d called. “Great to hear your voice! What’s it been? A year? Eighteen months?”
    “About that. Hey, why don’t we get together tonight? I’d love to see you.”
    This was going to be easier than I thought. “Sounds great. How about at Starlight at nine?” I liked picking the rendezvous spot; being on comfortable turf was a good thing. And the lighting at the Starlight lounge, one of my favorite places in the world, was exceptional.
    Perfect. I’m looking forward to eating you, whoops, I mean meeting you!”
    We both laughed. His Freudian slip had been one-hundred percent intentional and as cheesy as it gets, but I loved it. It was like he’d never left. And, if memory served me, computers weren’t his only skill.
     

 
    Chapter 9
    Sitting in my favorite booth with a good view of the door, I sipped my martini, waiting for Phil. It was a well-rehearsed strategy to be early: that way, I had my choice of tables in my favorite waiter’s section. I had filled the waiter in on the evening’s requirements (long pours for him, short pours for me: I needed to stay alert) and was ready to go. Now I just needed the final ingredient: Phil.
    On time as always, Phil arrived at one minute to nine, wearing a well-fitted suit and a great pair of shoes (never neglect to look at a man’s shoes: shoes tell you everything ). Disappointing was what he hadn’t bought in a store: his thinning hair. Well, maybe he could get plugs or a shorter cut in time for the wedding, I thought. Either way, Phil Silver was a name everyone knew so hair or no hair, people would be impressed.
    Getting up from the booth, I allowed the right corner of my mouth to turn up. I’d forgotten how short he was; in my stilettos, I was at least two inches taller than him.
    “Shoshanna, oooh mama!” Phil put his hands on my hips and kissed me full on the lips. “You are looking good,” He said as he pulled back and motioned for me to sit.
    “You’re looking good too, Phil,” I said. It didn’t matter that I was referring to his ensemble; no need to split hairs. Whoops, pardon the pun. “Love the shoes,” I added, not able to help it; the shoes were sublime.
    “Dolce & Gabbana,” he said casually as he slid into the booth across from me, his eyes dipping to my cleavage.
    I leaned forward to afford him a good look. “They’re stunning.”
    “Oh yes they are,” he said, still staring at my chest. Then he looked up, chuckling as he did. “Oh wait, you meant the shoes? I got them at Caesar’s last time I was in Vegas. I just love Vegas. Ever been?” He was showboating, but that was okay. He was throwing around his money like I was throwing around my body. We’d make a good pair at the wedding.
    I lifted my glass. “Yes, but you could still take me, show me around.”
    He raised his eyebrows and stared at me a moment before flagging down the waiter who was waiting for his sign.
    Within seconds of his signal, Phil had in front of him a shot The Macallan (never forget to call it The Macallan, Phil had always said) courtesy of my explicit pre-game instructions.
    He smiled down at the glass as the waiter announced what it was. “You remembered. So, tell me, Shoshanna. How are you not married off yet?”
    “No one can afford me,” I said with a one-shoulder shrug. Of all the boyfriends I’d ever had, Phil would take this joke with good humor. Maybe because he could afford me.
    He chuckled. “Ah, you haven’t changed a bit. If it weren’t for the fact that there’s a scotch in front of me, I’d take you back to my place this instant.”
    I lifted my martini, pausing right before I took a sip. “Drink up,” I said, with a wink and a smirk. Then I emptied my glass.
    * * *
    When we pulled into Phil’s driveway, I was impressed to say the least. His last place had been nice, something I could have seen myself in, but this, this, even by New York