“And you believe it?”
Jake drained the last of his scotch. “I’m sure most of the ladies in your class are capable of being just as dirty as your martini.”
Megan burst out laughing while Jake signaled for the check. “Can I tempt you with a bite to eat? There’s a new Italian place which had some great reviews.”
Megan simmered down and considered her next move. Seconds apart, a number of notions made their case. I said one drink, and this would be breaking that rule. But he’s cute, he’s making me laugh, and I haven’t put my foot too badly in my mouth. Yet.
“I have an early start in the morning,” she found herself saying.
“I understand,” he said, disappointed. “What if I promised to have you home before the Lamborghini turns into a pumpkin?”
Oh, you smooth, handsome, exceedingly wealthy devil. OK... OK... But Erica’s still dead wrong about the underwear thing.
“Promise?”
Jake left cash for the check, rose and offered his arm. “Promise.”
*
“My mother always said,” Megan related to Jake between mouthfuls of dessert, “that if you needed to set fire to the food for it to taste good, it wasn’t good to start with.”
Jake took another spoonful of his slender but outrageously rich slice of gateaux. “And was she right, when it comes to bananas flambé?”
Megan closed her eyes for a long moment as the seared, delicate fruit melted into pure sweetness on her tongue. “No. She was as wrong as she was about being a nurse. And playing the piano. And dating boys on a school night. And, oh, pretty much everything.”
Jake set down his fork, as full as he needed to be, despite the call of the sensuous chocolate cake before him. “The mistakes of our parents are the most important part of the instruction manual.”
“Interesting,” Megan said, resting her own fork next to the nearly-demolished bananas. “Who said that?”
Jake seemed confused that she didn’t already know the answer. “I did. Just now.”
He had been making her laugh so regularly, and so easily, that she had worried people might think she’s had too much of the excellent red which sat, empty, between them. It had cost an extravagant sum, easily dismissed by the loquacious Jake.
He caught the waiter’s attention yet again and ordered Limoncello. “Can I offer you an espresso also?”
Megan, for all the promises to herself that this would be one drink, and then home, was feeling on top form after her martini and three glasses of the fantastic red. “Woah, slow down there. You’re not trying to get me drunk and...”
“Perish the thought,” Jake answered, ordering two coffees from the cheerful and endlessly helpful waiter.
Actually, I don’t think I will let it perish. I think I’ll entertain it, just for a second.
OK, for a lot longer than a second.
It had emerged, over the previous hour or so, that Erica’s prediction was gaining credibility by the moment. Megan was as surprised and amused as she was intrigued and aroused to find that, during her most recent bathroom visit, she would have done well to slip an extra pair of panties into her purse tonight. It had been longer than she could remember since merely talking and flirting with a cute guy had created such excitement between her legs. She narrowly decided to dry them quickly and pull her panties back on rather than go commando for the rest of the evening, just because the chances of further precipitation were so very high.
The waiter set down two small, ornate glasses in front of them, each filled with an opaque, light-yellow liquor.
“Wow...” Megan exclaimed as the tangy gush of lemon hit her tongue. “That’s incredible...”
“From Capri, home of the real deal when it comes to Limoncello. I developed a bit of a taste for it while I was traveling over there.”
It was remarkable to Megan how Jake could drop an exotic, foreign trip into the conversation without sounding boastful. In fact, he sounded more as though he felt genuinely lucky to have had such amazing chances to see the world. Since they had taken their seats in La Taverna, a new eatery committed to authenticity and a quietly romantic ambience, he had mentioned trips to almost all of the world’s continents but managed never to sound arrogant about it. Instead, he came across as a smart, fortunate, unashamedly populist front-man, a spokesperson for the staggering novelties of the 21st century. His playboy reputation was certainly not entirely fabricated, but he had nevertheless been maligned by a jealous media. At least, that was what Megan decided to believe.