Page 31 of The Hang Up
“What do you mean?”
“There’s usually a host when it comes to business dinners—the person who arranged the whole thing. Usually the person who’s paying.”
He took a careful bite of prosciutto, then chewed and swallowed before answering her question, which was a plus. Somewhere along the line, he must’ve learned not to talk with his mouth full. The guy might be rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a total lost cause.
“That’s probably the board president, Jack Wainswright,” he said. “I guess he’d be the host.”
“Okay, so you’ll want to watch him closely. Take your cues from him when it comes to knowing how many courses you order, when you start eating, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds a little stalker-ish,” he said. “Please tell me I don’t have to watch him for a cue to use the restroom.”
“You’re on your own for that one.” Miriam set her wine down on the sideboard and picked up a plate. Handling the tongs with dainty precision, she selected a few charcuterie items for herself, adding a few bites of mortadella and a smear of pâté on her crostini. She stepped back from the table, lifted her plate a few inches above her cleavage, and took a careful bite of crostini. A few crumbs landed on the plate, and she saw Jason grin.
“Are you teaching by example?” He raised his own plate to the same level and bit into a cracker, laughing a little when it split in two and half of it hit the plate. “You’re right, holding the plate up here is probably better than dribbling crumbs down the front of my shirt.”
“Happy to help,” she said after she’d swallowed the bite. “So while you obviously don’t want to talk with your mouth full, you do want to keep the small talk flowing, especially over appetizers.”
“I’ve never been one for small talk.”
“Just ask questions. People love to talk about themselves, their hobbies, their families.” She took another bite of crostini, then set down her plate and dabbed at her mouth with a cocktail napkin. “So how old is Henry, anyway?”
At the mention of the little boy’s name, Jason’s face brightened. “He’s five, going on twenty-one.”
“What do you mean?”
“You may have noticed his obsession with genitals?”
She laughed and took a bite of prosciutto. “I take it he greets everyone with commentary on penises and fa-chynas?”
“Pretty much. His Sunday school teacher was not amused.”
“That’s a pity.”
“It actually makes a good icebreaker,” he said. “Maybe I’ll consider it for business dinner small talk.”
“Absolutely. I’m sure the board of directors would be delighted to hear about your penis.”
Jason laughed, and Miriam felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly. She hadn’t meant to turn the conversation toward the sexy CEO’s anatomy once again. But now that she’d said the words, she couldn’t stop remembering the sight of him standing naked in her bathroom, his torso lean and muscular, the dark trail of fine hair leading down toward?—
“This is good sausage,” he said. Miriam choked on her wine.
He set his plate down and started to reach for her, but she waved him off. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she sputtered.“I don’t need the Heimlich.”
“Okay, but I do have first aid training if you need it.” The thought of having him give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation was enough to make her want to choke on her wine again, but she settled for eating a piece of mortadella.
“So you and your sister must be close,” she said, desperate to steer the conversation back to safer ground.
“Very close,” he said. “Our parents died in a car wreck when I was seventeen and Ellie was fifteen. There were no other relatives in the picture, so I took over raising Ellie.”
“Wow,” Miriam said, impressed. “How did you manage to do that and finish college?”
He shrugged and took a sip of his own wine. “It wasn’t always easy, but we got along okay. Just like we’re managing now with Henry.”
“And Henry’s dad is?—”
“A grade A ass-hat,” Jason finished with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I promise I’ll keep the swearing to a minimum at the dinner event. But sometimes, there’s just no other word for it.”
“Very true. I take it he’s not in the picture?”
