“I have a table on the balcony. You’ll like the view.” He offered his arm, and Rachel accepted it, allowing him to lead her to the open French doors.
A native of the West Coast, she doubted she could ever adapt to the humidity of Florida, but it was more bearable in the evening. A slight breeze was blowing in off the bay, making the balcony the perfect place to dine.
Her tall, dark stranger was quite adept at seduction. A beautifully presented table was before her with a bottle of wine chilling and candles emitting a soft glow. When he held out her chair, she sat and watched his sure moves as he rounded the table.
As they sat down, he gazed at her with his dark eyes, and her nerves left her. She wanted this man too much to let them get the best of her. Maybe she’d come to regret her impulsive act, but it wouldn’t be tonight — that was certain.
A man quietly approached and set down a plate for each of them before retreating. Rachel was glad to have a waiter there. One more witness to her presence couldn’t hurt. At least Ian wouldn’t be able to murder her without some serious questions being asked.
The thought made her smile. If she’d truly been afraid of being hacked to pieces and fed to the sharks, she never would have set foot inside the hotel. No. She was just used to her parents’ fears. She wouldn’t allow any of that to ruin her night.
Their first course of Aleppo Stained Swordfish was accompanied by a beautiful French Chardonnay. The man certainly had good taste in food, and she took a bite of the fish, relishing the flavors dancing on her tongue.
“Where are you from, Rachel?”
“I thought we agreed to be strangers,” she replied, not sure whether she wanted them to know much about each other. If she got to know this man, there was a chance of getting attached, and that wasn’t in her game plan.
“Ah, keep the mystery alive,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes. It’s not every day I get rescued from certain death. I have created my own version of who you are.”
He looked at her for a stunned moment before bursting into laughter. “You are quite the treat, my lady.”
“As are you.”
“What would you think about this? We could play a game — make guesses about each other’s lives.”
Rachel considered his proposal, looking for anything that would end up biting her in the behind. She didn’t see how it could.
“I think certain games can be quite fun,” she responded with a wink. Rachel was shocked with herself at her boldness. She could almost picture Lia in the corner with her mouth gaping open. Rachel had never been a wallflower, but she’d also never been so forward with a man, either.
Watching as Ian’s eyes flared with delight, she couldn’t help but to glow inside. He wanted her, and it was great for her ego.
As they moved on to their next course of D’Artagnan NY Striploin, with green and white asparagus, pickled mushroom, short rib ragout and béarnaise sauce, and served with a cabernet sauvignon, she looked into his eyes as she tried to guess his story.
“With your slight accent, you are obviously not a native Floridian. The golden complexion of your skin possibly makes you Italian, my mother’s home country. You are obviously educated, confident, and used to getting your own way…” she began.
His eyebrows rose, as if surprised by her perception. She would have to be a bit careful, she told herself. A ditzy college student wouldn’t know quite so much. Plus, she’d given a little too much information about herself by telling him where her mother was from.
“Please go on. You have my curiosity piqued as to who you think I am,” he said as he took a bite of the succulent steak and waited.
“Well, you are staying on the top floor of a nice hotel, having a fairly pricey dinner catered, and your clothes are hand-tailored, or bespoke, so you aren’t poor by any means. I say you are an international banker who travels to different countries, fattening your wallet and rescuing damsels in distress before seducing them — and then jetting away.”
Her words could have sounded harsh if not for the laughter in her tone. Ian gazed at her with deep, assessing eyes for a moment before leaning back and picking up his glass of wine.
The waiter cleared their plates before coming back a few moments later with a glass of Château D’Yquem Sauternes. As Rachel took a sip, she knew she was drinking only the best. He was pulling out all the stops.
Their dessert of Pistachio and Lavender Honey Panna Cotta was placed before her, and she didn’t hesitate to take a bite. There were no complaints from her about the delicious meal.
“Sadly, you are wrong, so I have to admit nothing of my true identity,” he said as he began eating his dessert.
“Ah, well, my next guess is that you’re a top-secret superhero commissioned by the government to rescue damsels and fight crime.”
“I’m afraid that you have caught me. They call me Aquahero, and I fight crime only along the oceanfront, my true nemesis being the Great White Shark.”
Oh, Rachel liked him — liked him a bit too much for someone she intended only to sleep with and then never see again. There would be no exchanging of phone numbers. She had plans, and they didn’t include Mr. Sexy and his dark-as-night eyes.
“It’s my turn. You are obviously educated and well-traveled. You know fine wine and good food. Confidence oozes from you, and I would wager that you’re very used to getting your way. Yet as much as you want me to believe you’re a woman of the world, I see a hint of vulnerability beneath your impressive act. That leads me to believe that you’re from a good family, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a coming-out season. Since you’ve already told me your mother is from Italy, you most likely spend a lot of time doing international travel… I say you are a shipping heiress who flits from country to country trying to win new customers.”
Rachel was impressed even more. He was doing very well, though she didn’t appreciate his vulnerability comment. She wasn’t a weak little girl who needed protecting. And she was sick of people thinking she was such an innocent, the Palazzo daughter who would never do wrong. She’d always been aware of what people thought and had been careful to maintain a good reputation. But sometimes a girl just needed to be a little bit bad to have a whole lot of fun.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
She’d forgotten that the waiter was even there, but as he brought a bottle of rare Rémy Martin cognac to the table and poured some into two snifters, she looked up, impressed by the man’s professionalism. How hard it must be for him not to laugh at their ridiculous conversation.