Sweet Little Lies by Michele Grant Read Free Book Online

doors.
    “Have a great evening, folks!” the doorman called out as we stepped out into the hot and humid night. I was really going to miss my mild Bay Area weather.
    “Thanks!” I answered, and turned left. “Do you mind walking? It’s not very far.”
    “Sure, why not?” she said easily.
    As we stepped forward, I moved her to the inside so I was closer to the street and reached for her hand to clasp it in mine. She stopped dead in her tracks. I looked over.“What?”
    “That was a very datelike thing you just did. Taking the street side and holding my hand.”
    I glanced at our linked fingers.“Christina, how many times do I have to tell you? I am a gentleman.And I’m not trying to date you.” I really wouldn’t mind sleeping with her; but as prickly as she was—no way would I make that move. I couldn’t blame her. But she was mighty skittish. I definitely didn’t notice her releasing my hand either.
    She squeezed my hand for a quick second. “Still not a date.”
    I squeezed back and we continued walking. “Got it. No date here.And a good thing, too.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Oh, if this was a date you’d be in trouble tonight, Ms. Brinsley.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    “Most definitely. I’d be trying out some of my best moves on you.”
    She snorted.“What makes you think I’m interested in seeing your moves, Mr.Williams?”
    “You don’t wear a dress like that and shoes like those without expecting a brother to pant a little, try a little sumthin’. C’mon now.”
    “Are you panting a little?”
    “Just a little.You know I’m smooth with mine.”
    “Those smooth moves, do they work for you?”
    “More often than you’d think.”
    She sent me a side-eye.“I’ll just bet. Good thing, then.”
    “Like I said. I’m a gentleman. Man of my word and all.”
    “You’re a rare breed.”
    “I thought you knew.”
    Christina laughed.“Ha! You talk a good game, I’ll give you that.”
    “Again, I thought you knew.”
    “I actually don’t know you at all.”
    I slid her a glance. “I thought you wanted to keep it that way.”
    “Excellent point.”
    For someone who proclaimed not to be on a date, she sure looked the part and did the flirty banter well. We walked in companionable silence the rest of the way to the restaurant. Cutting past the people waiting outside, I went straight to the maître d’ station.“Williams, party of two.”
    “Right this way, sir. Madam. Is this your first time at Pesca?”
    Christina said yes as I said no. He led us to a booth on the side wall and seated us. Handing us the menus, he snatched the Reserved sign and snapped his fingers. A large bottle of San Pellegrino water was placed on the table. “Your server, Jason, will be out momentarily to get your drink orders and answer any questions about the menu. Chef David has asked to be informed when you arrived, so I’ll go tell him now. Enjoy.”
    I smiled and nodded as I opened the menu.A brother was starving. I never had my omelet and waffle fries this morning. I had settled into the apartment I was going to share with three other people and promptly fallen asleep. By the time I woke up, grabbed a slice of pizza, ran over to campus to register, and introduced myself to a few professors, it was time to run home and get ready for this non-date. The surf and turf was looking good. In the midst of contemplating rib eye vs. porterhouse, I felt Christina’s eyes on me. I closed the menu and leaned back in the booth.“Okay, now you are looking at me some kind of way….What’s up?”
    She opened her pretty mouth and then shut it again, shaking her head. I watched as her hair bounced and settled against her shoulders.
    “No, now. Might as well spill it,” I said.
    “You’re going to accuse me of being ‘that chick’ again,” she said.
    “Why?”
    “Because I want to know how a delivery-guy-turned-grad-student gets a reserved table at a Manhattan restaurant with less than twelve hours’