“So illegal I want to be convicted.”
“I suppose you could try being very, very bad,” I whisper, leaning closer, buzzed on how our flirtation has climbed the heat meter tonight.
We’re on the cusp of slipping into the realm of permanent arousal when the waiter arrives—perhaps oblivious to the eye-fucking we’re giving each other—and asks crisply if he can get us some tea.
“Is Earl Grey suitably unromantic?” Christian asks me, laughter sparkling in his eyes.
“Yes, as well as the lime tea. Grandmother’s favorite,” I add.
He turns to the waiter. “Clearly, we need Earl Grey and lime tea, and that ought to save me from wanting to do inappropriate things here.”
The waiter smiles with his mouth closed. “Very well, sir.”
As he leaves, I nearly double over in laughter. “You scared him off.”
“I have that effect,” he says, then squeezes my bare thigh. It’s more playful than sexual, and it’s a little bit friendly too. He glances at my neck and runs a fingertip over the apple charm. “From your brother?”
“Last time he was here. We’d both laughed when he found it, since no true New Yorker calls that city the Big Apple.”
“What’s your favorite place in all of New York?”
“Central Park. Conservatory Garden.”
“Flowers? Of course. I noticed you were quite taken with some we passed by the other day.”
I smile, impressed he remembers. “The Conservatory Garden isn’t just any flower garden. There are no cyclists or runners allowed there, so it’s peaceful. I went there all the time as a little girl. It was my favorite spot in all of Manhattan.”
“Do you have a necklace for the gardens?”
I shake my head. He presses a kiss to the hollow of my throat where the metal apple rests. “Maybe someday you’ll find that to replace the taxicab.”
I shudder and murmur maybe.
He raises his face and squeezes my hand, shifting gears. “How was your day?”
And that’s not sexual at all. He asks curiously, his eyes locked with mine, never straying.
“It was . . . a day. How was yours?” I say, eager to segue away from mine. “Did you translate for the Danish king or something?”
He laughs. “A group of stockbrokers. It was great, and a wonderful reminder that, though I miss the highs of business, I like the freedom of my lifestyle more.”
“In what way?”
“I can’t seem to stay away from business for long, but I like doing it on my own terms. Translating for them gave me a fun peek into what they’re working on but also allowed me to not get caught up in it.”
“Did you feel caught up in it before?”
He nods. “I did. It’s addictive. The rush and thrill of profits, of bigger and bigger returns on investment.”
“Is that why you retired so young?”
He nods. “Partly, I think. I’d earned enough and wanted to live life on my own terms, but I also didn’t want to be consumed by the constant pressure of the deal, and the next one, and the next one.”
That word resonates with me. Consumed. “I think we’re both trying to find more balance in our lives.”
He arches a brow in curiosity. “Are you as well?”
“Yes, but not so much in business. I don’t mind if business consumes me for a bit.”
“Did it consume you today?”
The waiter arrives with a full tea service, a steaming pot, fine china, and teacups. We thank him after he pours.
Christian raises his teacup. “To red skirts I want to peel off.”
I grin. “To blue button-downs I want to unbutton.”
His eyes brim with mischief as he drinks. When he sets down his cup, he returns to the topic. “What consumed you at work?”
I sigh, remembering Dominic. “I met with a former contractor for lunch, and he behaved like a complete jerk.”
“What happened?”
Part of me wants to cordon off my business life from him, but I remind myself that telling him about my day, like I did on our first date, is not akin to letting him distract me from my focus. I give him a few details about the project I’m pursuing, mentioning it’s in the travel sector. “I wanted him to do some analysis, and he basically said no, but thanks for the free lunch, and he’s now working for the competition.”
“He’s a total fuckwit.”
“Precisely.” I take a drink of the lime tea.
