“Mr. Delaney—”
“Nolan,” I correct her. “Call me Nolan. You’re not here at dinner as a candidate, Ivy. You’re here as my date. So let’s stick with first names, OK?”
“You didn’t really ask me on a date, Nolan.”
“No? I thought I did. And you’re here, so it must be true.”
“To answer your question, yes. I do have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t believe you,” I say back.
“What?” Ivy laughs, but it’s an uncomfortable laugh. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because if you did have a boyfriend you’d be on the phone with him tonight, telling him all about how inappropriate the Delaney clan is.”
“I was, actually. I told him all about it. He’s expecting me home tomorrow afternoon, so I hope you have that jet all fueled up and ready.”
“It won’t be, Ivy. So relax. And you don’t have a boyfriend. I can tell. I’m good at that.”
“His name’s Richard, Mr. Delaney.” She scoots her chair back and places her napkin on the table, but I grab her wrist and hold it down.
“Sit,” I say.
“Let go.”
“No. Now sit and relax and tell me that the boyfriend was a lie so we can enjoy ourselves.”
“You really are something. Your sister was right. I should stay far, far away from you.”
“Forget my sister, Ivy. Don’t you want to learn the truth about me? Learn some secrets, maybe? Secrets very few people know?”
“No,” she says forcefully. But she sits back down. Which is a yes, in my book. “I don’t, actually. I think that what they wrote about you ten years ago was probably all true.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” I say. “Because they left out all the interesting stuff.”
“I can see you’re a man used to getting what he wants, but I’m a woman who is well-practiced in the art of saying no.”
“I bet you are,” I say with a small laugh. “Preacher’s daughter. All-girls’ boarding school. Still living close to home.”
“What are you doing?” she snaps.
“Intriguing you, Ivy. I’m making you curious.”
“You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Same thing,” I joke.
She shakes her head and blows out a loud breath of air. “Why didn’t you send me home tonight?”
“So we could have dinner. And talk. And fuck. And talk some more.”
She is speechless. Her mouth is opening and closing, opening and closing, but no words make it past those beautiful plump lips.
“So relax, enjoy it. And if you really want to say no when I start taking your clothes off, I’ll back away. I’m not a rapist, Ivy. And if you think I am, then you’re not as smart as that résumé makes you out to be.”
She scowls at my words but stays silent.
“I don’t need to force women to have sex with me. I get them to the point of begging and then it… just happens.”
“It won’t happen with me.”
I honestly think she believes that. But she has no idea what’s coming, so I wave it off with a hand gesture. “So, Richard is your boyfriend? How long have you been dating?”
Ivy tips her head up, like she’s got the upper hand here. “Yes, Richard. We’ve been dating since my freshman year of college. And he’s a lawyer.”
“What kind of lawyer?” I ask, wondering how far she’ll take this boyfriend thing.
“He works for the district attorney’s office in Boston.”
“Boston, huh. He’s a close-to-home guy as well?”
“You live in the desert, two hours from your father’s home in San Diego. So you’re one to talk.”
“I didn’t grow up with my father, Ivy. My mother divorced him when I was twelve and we lived in Palm Beach when I was at home. But most of the time I was in boarding school in upstate New York.”
“Oh,” she says, taking a moment to think this through.
“I came back to the desert because I like it here. It’s a place people hide.”
“Are you hiding?”
“Isn’t everyone?”
“No.” She laughs. It’s not a real laugh. Not like the ones I saw earlier. But it’s a start.
“You’re hiding behind a fake boyfriend. Why? To keep my sexual advances at bay? It won’t work.”
She shakes her head as she lets out another nervous laugh.
“What?” I ask.
“I just can’t believe what an asshole you are. I mean, I expected some of this—”
“Which parts? I love hearing what people think of me before they actually meet me.”
“Jesus Christ—”
“Ah, so that religious upbringing is wearing off.” I tsk my tongue mockingly at her and then say, “That’s good to know.”
“I figured you were a jerk but I really had no idea you were this bad.”
“Because I’m self-assured?”
“Because you are the definition of arrogant, Mr. Delaney.”
“Nolan,” I say. “I thought we were in agreement on that?”
“We’re not in agreement on anything, Nolan.”
I smile and she falters for words.
“We will be by the time this night is over.”
She’s just about to respond to that when the servers come with a basket of bread and wine.
“I hope you like wine.”
“I do,” she says.
“Good,” I say. “Then I did something right. This is a fantastic Ornellaia Vendemmia d'Artista Special Edition Bolgheri Superiore that comes straight from Tuscany. Have you ever had it?”
“No,” she says crisply. “It sounds a little out of my price range for dinner drinks.”
“Well, enjoy then. I like the finer things in life, Ivy. I won’t skimp on this date, don’t worry.”
The servers leave us alone again and Ivy gathers her nerve. “It’s not a date,” Ivy says, once they’re out of ear-shot. “And I won’t be fucking you tonight, Nolan. No matter how pricey the wine or how good the food.”