Backseat Mistress by Calista Fox

Author:Calista Fox
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.
Published: 2012-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

After our carriage ride, we had dinner at South Gate at the Jumeirah Essex House across the street. The views of the park were spectacular and the foie gras was outstanding. I’d also chosen this restaurant because I needed this entire area of New York to have a positive connotation for us both again. I wanted to override the memory of that night when I’d driven such a huge wedge between us. I think I succeeded.

Tara talked nonstop after the snow had started to fall. It continued to come down outside, so I slipped the maitre d’ a fifty and he found another couple more than happy to take the table I’d requested by the fire when I’d made the reservation so we could sit by the window. He also brought a tall, thin vase with water in it for Tara’s flower.

She continued to talk as the champagne arrived. We toasted each other and ordered a ridiculous amount of hors d’oeuvres—me still on my mission to plump her up—and then she dove right back into conversation. Answering my questions, volunteering information, asking me things in return.

I considered last night at the Indian restaurant our first date and this one our tenth. It felt like we’d been together that long as a couple. We were comfortable with each other. We touched each other whenever the opportunity or desire arose. We stared into each other’s eyes. We whispered naughty things to each other from time to time.

I’d never considered myself the romantic type, but maybe all of Katie’s ramblings had taught me a thing or two. Maybe having a girl as a best friend had given me that sensitive edge Tara had mentioned last night. That did not, by any means, ebb out the Cro-Magnon Neanderthal in me. I still wanted to conquer Tara’s heart. I still wanted to give her everything her heart desired. I still wanted to be her hero and rescue her, even if she didn’t need to be rescued. It was a guy thing.

We had lobster and filet mignon. She said she couldn’t possibly eat another bite, so we agreed to forgo dessert, but I ordered crème brûlée to go anyway, for Duncan.

He drove us back to her apartment building. As we pulled up alongside the curb, she asked, “Are you coming up?”

“Do you want me to come up?”

She gave it some thought, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. She pretended to vacillate, but there was a wicked glint in her shimmering eyes.

I, in turn, pretended to be put out.

Finally, she laughed and said, “Of course I do.”

Sam opened the door and we stepped out. She started toward the entrance, but then drew up short and said, “Why don’t we take a short walk first?”

“Okay.” I had no idea what the sudden change in plan was about. I followed her anyway.

Halfway down the block, we entered a convenience store squished between Tara’s apartment building and another one. They also boasted a dry cleaning service.

She whispered in my ear, “I don’t have any condoms at my place.

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