Page 30 of The Hang Up
She smiled. “Eat your charcuterie.”
“That still sounds dirty.”
“You mean like when you told me you wanted to take me spelunking?” She poured two servings of pinot, then handed him one, her fingers tingling as they grazed his on the stem of the glass.
“Spelunking.” He shook his head. “Can’t say I ever thought of it that way until you came along.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jason took a careful sip of wine. “Hey, this is really good.”’
“Thanks. Oregon pinot is always a good bet, so that’s a smart thing to look for on the menu.”
He grabbed another hunk of crostini and shoved it in his mouth, and Miriam ordered herself not to scold him for it. The guy was the CEO of an international corporation. He might eat like a caveman, but helping him get over that would require a subtler touch than jumping on his case every time he showed subpar table manners.
“There’s a bread plate right there,” she said as she pointed at the edge of the side table. “Feel free to grab that so you can pile on whatever you want from the charcuterie.”
“Thanks.” He picked up the small plate as Miriam turned and filled her vase with water. She took a moment to arrange the flowers, trying to get her libido in check before turning back to face him.
As she set the vase on the table, she saw Jason using his fingers to grab a hunk of prosciutto off the charcuterie board. He glanced at her, then gave a sheepish look. “Let me guess—you’re going to tell me to use the tongs, not my fingers.”
“I didn’t say a word, but that’s a good idea.” She smiled. “The tongs would definitely be a better choice with the prosciutto.”
“And the little knifey thing is probably for the smeary stuff?”
“The knifey thing is called a spreader and the smeary stuff is chicken liver pâté, but yes. See? You’ve got it all figured out.”
“Yeah, but I’m likely to forget when you distract me with sexy words likecharcuterieandprosciuttoandspreaders.”
She laughed. “If that’s your idea of sexy talk, I’m not sure how I feel about the prospect of having dinner with you.”
Jason grinned and picked up the tongs. She watched him pile meat on his plate, impressed that he managed to work the small utensil with those massive hands of his.
Stop staring.
“Do you know how they’ll be handling appetizers at your dinner event?” she asked. “Passed apps, buffet style, or a sit-down dinner with everyone ordering separately?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Different rules of etiquette. If it’s passed apps or a buffet situation like this, you’ll want to keep your portions fairly small to make sure there’s plenty for everyone else.”
He set the tongs down and frowned. “Maybe I should play it safe and skip the apps.”
“No, definitely don’t do that. That will make other people feel awkward about eating if you’re not. Besides, it gives you something to do with your hands.”
He gave her a funny smile, and Miriam half expected him to come up with a risqué suggestion for what he might do with his hands. She was almost disappointed when he didn’t.
Instead, he looked at his plate. “So with all these meats and little bready things, I assume I’m okay to eat with my hands instead of asking for a fork or something?”
“Use the crostini—the little bready things—for the chutney or the pâté. You can use your hands for everything else, but be discreet about it. No sucking your fingers or licking crumbs off the plate.”
“No licking, no sucking.” He grinned. “Got it.”
That grin disarmed her again, so Miriam took another sip of wine and ordered herself to keep breathing. “Any idea how many people will be attending the event?”
“Let’s see…we have thirteen board members, eight people on the executive team, plus me. I guess that’s twenty- two?”
“Who’s hosting?”
