eye contact with him, hiding under her long blonde bangs. She likes him! It’s not just me!
“Two glasses of the Pinot Grigio,” Christian says with a voice of authority. I purse my lips, exasperated.
“What?” he snaps.
“I wanted a Diet Coke,” I whisper.
His gray eyes narrow, and he shakes his head.
“The Pinot Grigio here’s a decent wine, it will go well with the meal, whatever we get.” He says patiently.
“Whatever we get?”
“Yes.” He smiles, his dazzling, head cocked to one side smile, and my stomach pole vaults over my spleen. I can’t help but reflect his glorious smile back at him.
“My mother liked you,” he says dryly.
“Really?” His words make me flush with pleasure.
“Oh yes. She’s always thought I was gay.”
My mouth drops open, and I remember that question… from the interview. Oh no.
“Why did she think you were gay?” I whisper.
“Because she’s never seen me with a girl.”
“Oh… not even one of the fifteen?”
He smiles.
“You remembered. No, none of the fifteen.”
“Oh.”
“You know, Anastasia, it’s been a weekend of firsts for me, too,” he says quietly.
“It has?”
“I’ve never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother. What are you doing to me?” His eyes burn, their intensity takes my breath away.
The waitress arrives with our glasses of wine, and I immediately take a quick sip. Is he opening up or just making a casual observation?
“I’ve really enjoyed this weekend,” I murmur. He narrows his eyes at me again.
“Stop biting that lip,” he growls. “Me too,” he adds.
“What’s vanilla sex?” I ask, if anything to distract myself from the intense, burning, sexy look he’s giving me. He laughs.
“Just straightforward sex, Anastasia. No toys, no added extras.” He shrugs. “You know… well actually you don’t, but that’s what it means.”
“Oh.” I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on the top. But hey, what do I know?
The waitress brings us soup. We both stare at it rather dubiously.
“Ne
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