“Because you need a reason?” she said, fully aware there was a very thin line between anger and passion.
His inhale halted briefly, like she’d cut him to the quick. “Other than missing you? Fuck. I’ve talked to you for maybe ten hours of my life, but when I don’t see you, I feel half alive. And the funny thing, the thing that really sucks, is that before I met you I didn’t even realize I was half alive. You’ve ruined me for the life I used to have.”
“That’s a little melodramatic,” she said. “I think that by the time you showed up in my showroom, you’d already been ruined. If I did anything, I just reminded you that there is a truth worth living for.”
“It was worth a shot,” he said, and finished the bread and cheese. “Most women like those kinds of dramatic declarations. I forgot who I was talking to.”
“Did you really?”
“No,” he said quietly, so quietly that the word was almost lost in the sound of turtles slipping into the water, and ducks settling their wings. “I remember every single word you’ve ever said to me. I remember that you don’t pull your punches. I feel like shit that I need you to not pull your punches, that you give me something good and precious, and I . . . I used to bring more than this to the table.”
“This would all be much more meaningful if I had the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
“I can’t tell you.”
She looked at the remains of her box dinner. “Will you tell me for half the grapes?”
He laughed, a startled bark, then smiled at her, rakish and charming and simmering with longing. “I think you’ll give me half the grapes whether I tell you or not.”
She cupped the grapes in her palm and held them out between herself and Ryan. “I’ll give you all the grapes. I’ll take you back to my bed, let you choose something from Irresistible’s stock, and put it on for you. I’ll kneel beside you while I take off all your clothes, and I will feed them to you any way you like.”
He stopped breathing. She’d been watching the rise and fall of his chest, imagining the way his breath would taste and feel as it washed over her skin, so she knew when he was no longer inhaling and exhaling. “What happens after I eat all the grapes?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Weak,” he said immediately. “That’s the best you can do after the stories I’ve told you?”
It was her turn to give a startled laugh. “I can do better. You wouldn’t have to do a thing. Would you do that for me? Would you let me take what I wanted from you?”
“Yes.”
“It could take a while,” she said.
“Is that supposed to be a warning?”
She brought the grapes, still cupped in her palm, to her nose and breathed in the tart scent of juice barely contained by the straining skins, the faint sweat of arousal gathering in her palm.
“How long would you tease me?” His voice was rough, like the down on the cattails sheltering them.
“As long as it takes to make up for the way you’ve teased me.”
“Forever?” he said, still temptation personified, but with an intent glint in his eyes.
“I’m deadly serious.” She extended her arm again, half challenge, half offer, all desperate arousal. “All you have to do is tell me the truth and come home with me.”
“I’ve never wanted a palm-size cluster of grapes so badly in my life. I don’t even fucking like grapes. But I can’t. Not now.”
“Too bad,” she said with a casualness she didn’t feel. She plucked a single grape from the stem, brought it into her mouth, and bit down slowly until the juice flooded over her tongue.
He looked like he was being ground between two large stones. Taking pity on him, she separated a small bunch of grapes from the larger stem and held them out to him.
He shook his head. “No. You’re not settling for half measures, and neither will I. I’ll either earn all of you, or have none of you.”
“That’s easy to say when you don’t actually like grapes,” she observed.
“Nothing about this is easy.”
A quiet chime dinged, signaling five minutes until the end of intermission. Simone finished her grapes, neatly stowed her trash inside the cardboard box, and finished off her wine. Ryan extended his arm to indicate she should precede him down the jetty.
“Enjoy the rest of the show,” she said and gave him a parting nod.
“You, too,” he said, and rejoined his date by the entrance.
When the show was over, she didn’t see him in the crush of people leaving the theater. She set off down the western drive, walking south toward the lights of Midtown, and home, disappointingly, infuriatingly alone.
***
Her first text of the day was from Lorrie and arrived before she’d finished her coffee.