“Holy shit, tell me that’s for me,” Shawna whispered, gripping my wrist like a vise.
“Hey, you’ve got your own. That one’s mine.” And it gave me a huge thrill to say so. Mine to claim, to touch, to kiss. And later on, to fuck to exhaustion. Oh yeah . . .
She laughed when I rocked onto my tiptoes in anticipation. “All right. I’ll settle for an introduction.”
I did the honors, then waited for her to hop into the limo first. I was about to climb in after her when I felt Gideon’s hand slide up beneath my skirt to squeeze my butt.
He pressed against my back and whispered in my ear, “Make sure I’m standing behind you when you bend over, angel, or I’ll be spanking this pretty ass.”
Turning my head, I leaned my cheek against his. “My period’s over.”
He growled, his fingertips biting into the flesh of my hip. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
“Delayed gratification, ace,” I told him, using a phrase he’d once tormented me with. I was laughing at his curse when I dropped onto the bench seat beside Shawna.
Angus slid behind the wheel and we headed out, breaking into a bottle of Armand de Brignac on the way. By the time we pulled up to Tableau One, a hot new fusion bistro that had a healthy line out front and energetic music pouring out onto the street, the combination of the champagne and Gideon’s hot gaze on the nearly indecent hemline of my skirt had me feeling giddy.
Shawna slid forward on the seat and stared wide-eyed through the tinted windows. “Doug tried to get us in here before he left, but the waiting list is two months long. You can walk up, but the wait can be hours and there’s no guarantee you’ll be seated.”
The limo door opened and Angus helped her out, then me. Gideon joined us, taking my arm as if we were dressed for a gala and not a rock concert. We were escorted inside so quickly, with the manager being so gushy and welcoming, that I looked at Gideon and mouthed, One of yours?
“Yes, in partnership.”
I just sighed, reconciled to the inevitable. “Is your friend going to meet us for dinner?”
Gideon gestured with an easy nod of his chin. “He’s already here.”
I followed his gaze to an attractive man sporting blue jeans and a Six-Ninths T-shirt. The gentleman was acting as the focal point in a photo op with two pretty women on each side. He smiled wide for the person wielding a smartphone camera, then waved at Gideon and excused himself.
“Oh my God.” Shawna bounced on her feet. “That’s Arnoldo Ricci! He owns this place. And he’s got a show on the Food Network!”
Gideon released me to clasp hands with Arnoldo and engage in the backslapping ritual of close male friends. “Arnoldo, my girlfriend, Eva Tramell.”
I extended my hand and Arnoldo grabbed it, pulled me closer, and kissed me straight on the mouth.
“Back off,” Gideon snapped, tugging me behind him.
Arnoldo grinned, his dark eyes flashing with humor. “And who’s this vision?” he asked, turning to Shawna and lifting her hand to his lips.
“Shawna, this will be your escort, Arnoldo Ricci, if he manages to survive dinner.” Gideon shot his friend a warning look. “Arnoldo, Shawna Ellison.”
She practically glowed. “My boyfriend’s a huge fan of yours. I am, too. He made your lasagna recipe once and it was. To. Die. For.”
“Gideon told me your man is in Sicily now.” Arnoldo’s voice was flavored with a delicious accent. “I hope you can make the time to visit with him there.”
My gaze darted to Gideon, knowing damn well I’d never given him that much information about Shawna’s boyfriend. He glanced down at me with a look of mock innocence and an almost imperceptible smirk.
I shook my head, exasperated, but I couldn’t deny that this would be a night Shawna would never forget.
The next hour passed in a blur of excellent food and fine wine. I was polishing off an extraordinary zabaione with raspberries when I caught Arnoldo watching me with a wide smile.