Blink (2 page)

He leapt on it. “That’s a smile.” He fist
pumped like he just won some sort of prize. “With a smile like
that, you’ve gotta let me buy you dinner.” He lowered his voice,
like he had something confidential to share. “And a new bumper, of
course.”

“Of course,” Simone said, relaxing in spite
of herself. With the exception of rear ending her, he was kind of a
dream catch. Attractive, successful, funny. But she was still iffy,
still mulling it over. “Just dinner?”

“Just dinner,” he answered. “Then we go our
separate ways. If that’s what you want.”

There was something in his voice that told
her that wasn’t what
he
wanted. Which just made her body
ache and her mouth water with desire. He wasn’t even touching her
and she could feel her peaks swell beneath her blouse, at the
ready. Game for whatever. A man had never had such a carnal effect
on her. She’d never met anyone and wanted to go to bed with them
right off the bat.

He’d awoken something in her—she could tell
him to go to hell and go home to her condo, to her safe evening at
home, but she knew she’d regret it.

She let out a sigh before laughing at the
ludicrousness of the whole situation. “I don’t even know your
name.”

“Mark,” he said smoothly. He held out his
hand.

She glanced at it. It was now or never. Walk
away, or take a chance.

She took it, the feel of his hand sending an
electric jolt to her system. She ignored the mistakes of the past
and smiled as she shook it slowly. “I’m Simone.”

***

Simone had to double take when she saw Mark
pull up to the valet rope of the most expensive restaurant in town.
Suddenly aware of the big ass dent in the back of her sedan, she
opted to drive around the block and find parking on the street. She
could already see the bemused look on the valet’s face as she
handed him the keys to her broken car and decided she’d pass on the
experience.

She found an empty spot just two blocks from
the restaurant. She shut off her engine and returned her hand to
the wheel, both palms squeezing the rubber tight.

“What the hell am I doing?” she said aloud.
It was a damn good question. Her pad thai sat beside her,
festering. It was a fragrant reminder of what her night would have
been if Mark hadn’t crashed into her.

She had a laundry list of reasons why she
should turn the car back on and salvage what was left of her
evening:

1. She didn’t know this guy from Adam. All she knew was
   his name, that he obviously had money, and had no qualms flaunting
   it.
   

2. The Red Room was one of the most exclusive
   restaurants in the area. Though she wasn’t rocking workout gear,
   she was pretty sure most of the women that frequented the place
   would be wearing frocks and jewelry that cost as much as her
   car.
   

3. And speaking of her car, it was making unhealthy
   noises the whole way over. And looking ghetto fabulous with the
   bumper hanging off. Just a few strips of duct tape would complete
   the look and-
   

Tap, tap
.

She peered out the passenger side window.
Mark stood just outside, making her heart stutter ‘cuz he looked
like something out of GQ magazine. It just wasn’t fair for him to
look so delicious. He was saying something.

“What?” she said, scrunching her brow. Jesus
Christ. Of course she couldn’t hear him with the windows up. She
pressed the button and the glass slid down.

He leaned down, his face intent. “Having
second thoughts?”

Yes. “N-No.” She swallowed. “Maybe a
little.”

He leaned over, draping at the mouth of the
window effortlessly. Everything about him was so easy and natural.
He was in a suit, but his swagger was as relaxed as if he was in
jeans and a tee. “It’s no pressure, Simone. It’s just dinner. Maybe
a little awkward conversation.”

She grinned. “And overpriced alcohol?”

He winked. “Why Simone—do you intend to take
advantage?”

There went the butterflies. “I-” Her voice
trailed off and she just sat there, wanting him way more than she
should.

His face fell, but his voice remained upbeat.
“Hey, if you’re not interested…” He snapped upward, straightening
his tie. He pulled his wallet out. “I’ll just get you my info-”

Simone rolled up the window, unclicked her
seatbelt, and snatched her keys from the ignition. “No.” She walked
over to where he stood, struggling with their attraction, with the
need to see this whole crazy thing through.

He gave her a quizzical look. “No?”

Silence.

She clicked the car lock, not that anyone
would give her busted car a second glance when they could have
their pick of the gamut of luxury cars parked in the valet lot.

She gathered herself and looked him straight
on, digging deep and finding her center. “I am interested.”

His eyes sparkled and he took a step to the
side. “Well then. After you.”

When they breezed into Red Room, Simone
couldn’t help but notice the fact that the interior was, in fact,
not red. It was a milky, whimsical white with linen tablecloths and
a chandelier glittering up ahead, casting sparks around the packed
dining room.

She relaxed when she glanced past the hostess
and saw that she didn’t look like a bum and many of the women were
similarly dressed.

She bit back a smile when she felt Mark’s
hand on the small of her back as he flashed the hostess a bright
smile. “Julie! How are you?”

The young girl flashed him a toothy grin.
“I’m great, Mark! How about you?”

“Doing well,” he answered. “And the
kids?”

“Little monsters,” she said, shaking her
head. “But they’re doing good.”

“You’ll have to tell Logan I have a little
something for him that I picked up in Tokyo.” He leaned in. “But
only if he gives his Mom a break.”

She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind
her ear. “Will do.”

He stroked Simone’s back, bringing her back
to Earth. Who was this charming guy? Knowing the wait staff by
name, asking about their kids? Where was the stuffy, entitled
indifference?

“I don’t have a reservation-”

“Don’t be silly!” she gushed. “There’s always
a table here with your name on it.” She swiped a couple of menus.
“Follow me.”

Simone followed behind them, half expecting
the diners to have some raised eyebrows about their coupling, but
everyone minded their business.

The hostess stopped at a table near the
kitchen. Simone’s stomach rumbled when a whiff of spices and the
tantalizing warmth of cooking meat assaulted her senses.

She mumbled a thank you to the hostess and
let out a chuckle as Mark reached out, stopping her before she
pulled out her own chair.

“Allow me.” He pulled out her chair and
presented it with a flourish.

“Thanks,” she said, blushing hot. He was
really going all out.

He joined her at the opposite side of the
table. He waved at a few of the bus boys as he settled into his
seat.

“Frequent diner?” Simone asked with a
smirk.

“Yes indeed,” he replied. “Their filet mignon
is killer.”

Simone gazed at the menu, trying to not freak
out when she saw not one damn thing was under twenty bucks. Even
the sides.

A waitress saddled up to their table, giving
Mark a playful shove. “Marky Mark! We’ve missed you!”

“Marky Mark?” Simone repeated with a
snort.

“An embarrassing story,” Mark said with a
groan.

“One I’ve
gotta
hear,” Simone laughed,
crossing her arms.

“Okay so the owner of Red Room, Mario Barillo
is this little, elderly Italian man-” the waitress began.

“Oh Lord,” Mark said, dropping his head.

“And on his 85
^th
birthday-” the
waitress continued, only egged on by Mark’s shame, “Okay a little
context first—Mario doesn’t look it, but he’s, like, the biggest
rap music fan ever. Like can quote “Fight The Power” and would
blast Jay-Z if he knew it wouldn’t drive the rich folks away.” She
shifted her weight before pressing on. “So when he comes to Mario’s
party, Mark is decked out in Phat Farm, Timberlands, and a
backwards baseball cap and he just busts out in this awesome Happy
Birthday rap. It’s on Youtube and-”

“Okay, okay,” Mark said, turning red as
Simone laughed, trying to imagine the getup.

She leaned over, giving the waitress a wink.
“I’ll get that url from you later.”

“So a Merlot for me,” Mark said quickly,
shaking his head. Gosh. He was even hot when he blushed!

Simone dropped her gaze and scanned the wine
list. There was no way she was gonna spend fifteen bucks on a glass
of wine. “Just water with lemon for me.”

The waitress listed the specials before
heading off to grab their drinks and Simone glanced over at her
date. “So when you’re not rear ending people and spitting rhymes,
what do you do?”

“I’m a financial advisor,” he replied with a
chuckle. The waitress unloaded their drinks and he took a sip of
his wine before he continued. “Not nearly as glamorous as it
sounds, believe me.”

“Oh?” Simone said with an eye roll. “No fast
cars, five star restaurants, and making 50k commissions in a blink
of an eye?”

“Touché,” he grinned. “I guess I do alright.
How about you?” He paused, giving her a pensive look. “Let me
guess…teacher?”

“Nope.”

“Social worker?”

“Not even warm.”

“I’m stumped,” he shrugged.

“Accountant,” Simone said, sipping her
water.

“Huh,” he said, his eyes glittering with
playfulness. “I would have never pegged you for something so
cutthroat. Numbers are pretty hardcore.”

“Oh really?” Simone said defensively. She
flashed back to arguments with guys who seemed to be intimidated by
the fact that she was better at math than they were. “I must be
some fragile dandelion?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, holding out his
hands in defense. “Just surprised is all.”

Simone breathed in and out, trying to
chillax. He was obviously just kidding around. She wasn’t sure why
she took offense.

But deep down, the reason why was pretty
clear. She wanted him to like her. Not some watered down version of
her that was easier to swallow or better for his ego. “Sorry.” She
took a hearty sip of her water before she began again. “Numbers
make sense. No second guessing, no hidden meaning. Just formulas.
Neat and tidy calculations. That’s my scene.”

“Interesting.” When she gave him a look, he
added, “Really!” He leaned forward. “And what do you do for
fun?”

“I write,” she replied. “Movies, etcetera.
Normal stuff. Used to go out back in college, but not so much
anymore. I’m still a big fan of live music though. Indie folk,
indie rock. Bon Iver, Rilo Kiley and such.”

“Rilo Kiley, huh?” he said with a strange
look.

“What?” she said bitingly. “You were
expecting Lil Wayne?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m just, uh, a really
big fan of Rilo Kiley too, actually.”

It was Simone’s turn to rock a strange look.
She’d accused him of stereotyping, but she had to admit that she
would have pegged him for jazz. Something chic and vogue. “You’re
into Rilo Kiley?”

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “There’s just something
about her throaty twang. And when I saw them at Coachella last
year…Wow.”

“You went to Coachella?” Simone hissed
jealously.

“I did,” he answered, his eyes glossing over
as he recounted the festival.

Coachella was Simone’s Mecca, an oasis in the
desert, packed full of a paradise of all her favorite bands.

“-Good Old War, The Black Keys…” He blinked
rapidly, knocking her out with another dazzling smile on top of
everything else. “You been?”

“Not yet,” Simone answered.

“Maybe this year,” he winked.

Simone let out a laugh. “You think Coachella
tix will get you out of paying for my bumper?”

He finished off his wine. “I wouldn’t dream
of it.” He drummed his nails on the table top, fidgeting
uncomfortably like he had something he wanted to share but no idea
how to broach the subject.

Simone tried to decode his behavior.
“Everything alright?”

He hesitated, but finally let out a gust of
air. “I have something to say, but I’m kinda worried that it’s
gonna weird you out.”

Simone didn’t know what to say to that.
“Uh-”

“It’s not anything bad,” he clarified. “Or at
least, I hope you don’t think it’s bad.”

She tried to prepare herself, expecting him
to say that he had like, a foot fetish. Or secretly still lived
with his mother. It had to be something bizarre, he was just too
good to be true otherwise. “It’s probably better if you just come
out with it.”

“Okay.” He straightened his spine. “I’m glad
I rear ended you, Simone.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“I mean, I’m not glad that I damaged your
car, but I’m glad we met.” He licked his lips, and reached over and
put his hand over hers. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny,
feisty--and into Rilo Kiley-”

“And you live with your mom?”

He went bug eyed. “Say what?”

“Or you have a body in your fridge? Or pick
your nose and flick the boogers on strangers?” There had to be
something wrong with him.

He let out a laugh that was contagious and
they were both guffawing, drawing the eye of the diners all around
them.

“I most definitely do not live with my
mother,” he said, still gasping with gulps of laughter. “I can
prove it even.”

“Oh?”

His voice went serious. “Sure.”

Simone’s body kicked into over drive. He was
asking her to come home with him. She didn’t know which was
scarier—the fact that she wasn’t weirded out by his invitation or
the fact that her body was begging for her to accept.

When the waitress came back to their table to
get their order, she snapped her menu closed. “Check, please.”