Forbidden Fruit by Lee Anna

Author:Lee, Anna [Lee, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Anna Lee
Published: 2012-03-01T06:00:00+00:00

We walked hand in hand up to the rooftop of the Vendue Inn, a restaurant poised in the east side of the city, with views of the harbor and historic district. The night sky was crisp and the light breeze circling the umbrella donned tables smelled of coconut rum and crab cakes. Michael leaned toward the hostess and requested, “A corner table.”

“Right this way,” the short, busty redheaded hostess said dreamily. She was clearly in awe of Michael. No surprise there, so was I. “Your server will be right with you,” she said directly to Michael, oblivious to me. As we took our seats, I couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“What?” Michael pried.

The server was right on the hostesses’ heels, and we ordered our drinks, as I watched her ogle Michael as well.

I stared at him for a second, trying to determine if he was playing dumb or really didn’t know how people looked at him. I got nowhere. His usual perfectly composed expression met my stare. “So what does it feel like to have people drooling over you everywhere you go?” I asked curiously.

He tilted his head to the side. “You tell me.”

I laughed aloud. Now that was just ridiculous. “Sorry, I can’t help you there.”

“Why? Are you saying you didn’t notice the guy in the red shirt, when we first walked in, or the couple of frat guys at the bar right now?”

“What?” I consciously looked around. I found the guy with the red shirt. He looked deeply interested in his food, not looking at anyone. Then I looked at the bar. I saw a group of guys flirting with the bartender. None of them were interested in me.

“Look, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I’m serious. I mean, everywhere I have been with you people stop and stare at you like they’ve never seen anything like you before.”

He leaned forward, “And all the while, I’ve never seen anything like you.”

He spoke so strangely sometimes. He was flattering for sure, but I had a hard time believing that. A guy like him should be with a model, a six foot tall, immaculately beautiful woman, not an inexperienced seventeen-year-old like me.

“You don’t believe me,” he noticed.

“I can’t.”

He grinned, “My humble beauty. I could walk this earth for ten thousand years and never find anyone more beautiful than you. You’re perfect to me.”

“But you don’t even know me,” I couldn’t help but to point out.

I swore I heard him say, “Au contraire,” as he took a swig of his drink.

I sat there feeling small, unable to fill the big shoes he created for me. Trying to change the subject, I asked, “So where did you move from?”

He looked caught off guard for a split second before his face changed to nonchalance, “New York.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit disappointed. I think I was expecting him to say something exotic, like Egypt or Tanzania.

He laughed.

“So what brought you here?”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?” What sort of teenager traveled for business?

“My father sends me to places around the world to do his bidding,” he explained.

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