Page 17 of Come Away With Me (The Andrades 1)
Chapter Twelve
Gio watched Julia pour over the menu in a way none of the many women he’d brought here ever had. Food was not why people came to Le Loire, the theater district’s highly exclusive restaurant. They came because reservations were booked more than a year out and merely getting a table meant that you had arrived in some way at the top of New York’s social stratosphere. They came to see and be seen.
A quick look around the dining area revealed a collection of New York’s wealthiest and visiting famous. Gio wasn’t impressed by either, but he knew most women were.
Dressed as she was, Julia blended perfectly with the crowd. He’d caught more than one of his peers eyeing her appreciatively. She wasn’t the first beautiful woman he’d escorted in public. Normally he didn’t care one way or another what others thought of his date, but when he caught one blatant male admirer staring at Julia’s profile from a few tables away, he’d half risen out of his chair without thinking.
To what? Brawl?
The man had met his eyes, read his intent, and hastily looked away. Gio had let out a long breath and settled back into his seat, surprised by how possessive he already felt about the woman sitting across from him.
“Have you had the seafood here?” she asked, drawing him back from his thoughts.
“I’m sorry?”
“The plateau de fruits de mer. I love seafood, but I had this dish once at an expensive restaurant in Rhode Island and it was served with a tiny octopus and whole prawns. Some had eyes. I can’t eat anything that still has eyes.”
“I normally have the Kobe steak,” he said, somewhat bemused by her level of animation. He’d never seen a woman order anything but a salad—dressing on the side, all possible calories or carbs banished from their meal. “Chef Cazon is excellent. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with whatever you order.”
“You can’t come to a place like this and have steak,” she said with a laugh. “How about this? I’ll order for you and you order for me.”
“Why?” he asked slowly.
She seemed as confused by his reluctance as he was by her suggestion. “Because it’ll be fun?”
His idea of fun had more to do with what they would do after dinner, but he decided to humor her. He opened his menu. “What do you like?”
She put down the menu. “I’m not going to tell you. You have to try to figure it out.”
“I don’t play games,” he said, more out of habit than from a real desire to end the exchange. He did want to know what she liked, and he intended to spend the rest of night exploring just that. He reached for a glass of water, seeking a calm that he’d more easily achieve by pouring the cool drink on his bulging crotch than by drinking it. Slow down. No need to rush.
She cocked her head to one side and said, “Maybe you should. Then you’d look less like you’re constipated all the time.”
He choked on the water, swallowed it the wrong way, and choked more.
She was up, out of her seat, and patting his back forcibly. “Are you okay?”
He stood, cleared his throat one final time, looked into her anxious eyes, and let out a laugh that echoed through the suddenly silent restaurant. He took one of her hands in his and said, “Sit down, Julia. I’m fine.”
She looked around, realized that all eyes were on them, and returned to her seat in a rush—a beautiful pink flush on her cheeks. She picked up the menu again, this time hiding behind it. “I shouldn’t have said that. Why don’t I think before I speak?”
Gio reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “You are refreshingly honest.” The smile she gave him as a reward for his comment stole his breath away. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. “Constipated, huh?”
She blushed again. “Not literally. Emotionally. Like there is so much you want to say but you won’t let yourself.”
He dropped her hand as the words cut too close to home.
The sommelier came by and asked if Gio would be ordering his usual, or if he would like to see a wine menu. Gio said, “The usual.” Then looked across at Julia. “Unless you have a preference.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Not even one glass?” he asked.
“No one in my family drinks much.” A warm smile spread across her face. “My father always said he’d rather get lost in Renoir than old grapes.”
“That’s an unusual viewpoint,” Gio said, gesturing to the sommelier that they had finished their order.
“My father’s a unique man, and perfect for my mother. They are the most amazing people in the most surprising ways. My father was a starving artist until he met my mother. He was everything her family didn’t want for her. He came from a tough background. He had no money to speak of. But he loved her. She told me she knew from the first moment they met that he was the one for her. Just like that. They met. Wham—it hit both of them, and they were never apart after that. She helped him make a business out of his love of art. That’s what people do when it’s right. They bring out the best in each other. I know how lucky I am to have such great parents. And that’s why I’m here.”
The more she spoke, the more uncomfortable Gio felt. In some ways Rena was right. Julia sounded dangerously naive and innocent. Modern women didn’t believe in love at first sight. They were practical—as jaded as he was. Rena was wrong, though, in thinking that getting to know Julia better would lessen how important their differences were.
He wanted to ask her what she’d meant by her parents being the reason she was here, but the waiter arrived and asked for their order. Instead of giving hers, Julia surprised both of them by asking, “Is it possible to speak with the chef?”
The waiter looked from her to Gio. Gio nodded and the waiter headed toward the kitchen.
“I’m sure the waiter would know which items do or do not have eyes,” he said softly.
Julia smiled into his eyes but for once did not share her thoughts. The chef was at the table almost instantly.
“Mr. Andrade. It is a pleasure to have you join us again. What can I do for you?”
Gio sat back and gestured indulgently toward Julia. “Eli, it was Miss Bennett who had a question for you.”
Julia enthusiastically put out her hand to the chef, who shook it politely.
“A pleasure, Miss Bennett.”
“I heard a rumor that my dining partner tends to eat the same thing every time he comes here. I saw that you had a f
ew items that were traditional dishes. Are those family recipes?”
A huge, pleased smile spread across his face. “Yes, they are. My mother visits a few times a year and insists that they remain on the menu.”
“She must be so proud when she comes here. Which dish is her favorite?”
“She says the boeuf bourguignon reminds her of home. It’s a simple beef stew in red wine with bacon, mushrooms, and onions.”
“That sounds like the perfect comfort food. Does making it remind you of your childhood?”
“Yes,” he said in surprise. “It would be my honor to make it for you.”
Julia nodded and an impish smile stretched across her lips. “You seem to know Mr. Andrade. What would you pick for him?”
“I would not presume to know his taste.”
“Humor her,” Gio ordered softly. For a reason he couldn’t pin down, it was important to him that Julia wasn’t disappointed in this game.
With a shrug, the chef said, “Before tonight I would have said that his palate had become dull from his predictable diet. However, it looks like he’s ready for a change, so I would suggest the sautéed langoustine with a summer truffle and chanterelle in a sweet sauce. I’ve added a few enhancing spices. It is mild and pleasing at first, but has a bite that is unforgettable.”
“A bite?” Julia asked, missing the undercurrent of the conversation. “That sounds either delicious or dangerous.”
Exactly what I was thinking myself. Gio nodded to the chef to approve the choice. Would a night of sex with Julia lessen the hunger within him or increase it?
He didn’t know, but he was driven to find out.
The chef turned to Julia, raised her hand, and kissed it. “It was a real pleasure meeting you, Miss Bennett. I hope to see you again.”
Julia blushed, and Gio was glad the chef retreated back to the kitchen before he made Gio say something that revealed how possessive he was becoming toward Julia.
Julia watched the chef disappear into the kitchen, then groaned when she glanced back at Gio and caught him frowning at her. I can’t believe I told him he looked constipated. Who does that? Only me and my big nervous mouth.
