Читать книгу Seduce Me - Jo Leigh - Страница 11

2

ALTHOUGH HE HADN’T made it out the day before, by afternoon he hadn’t been able to stand the confinement for one more minute. Max hurried out of his corner bodega, a man on a mission. He would drop off the groceries at his place and then catch a cab to the Upper East Side. He wanted Thai and he wanted it in a restaurant, and he wanted to get there by cab.

Four days of doing squat also turned out to be just enough time to drive home the fact that he hadn’t had sex in months. A new and very uncomfortable record.

A survey of his contacts had showed him how tragically out of the loop he was. He’d started with Bev, his most reliable friend with benefits. She’d informed him that she was engaged and pointed out that if he’d ever once called her back or checked her Facebook or in any way remembered she was alive, he’d have known that.

The phone calls had gone downhill from there.

It disappointed him in a way that was new. He’d lost friends before. No one got to thirty and didn’t, but he’d never let relationships die without meaning to. Some of these people he’d known since college. It was naive of him to think he could pick up right where he’d left off.

A cab pulled over and Max got in and gave the driver the address. After they merged into traffic, his cell phone rang, raising his hopes that one of his ex-friends had forgiven him. Then he saw the unfamiliar name on his caller ID. “Hello?”

“Max?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Natalie. From the trading-card group.”

Jesus. How had he forgotten the trading-card thing? His cousin Paula had pitched him the idea over a month ago, and he hadn’t wasted a second signing on the dotted line. Thank God. “Right. Okay, hi, Natalie.”

“You do know what I’m talking about, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good.” She sounded nervous. “Because I picked your card.”

“I’m flattered you chose me.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?”

Max laughed. “Lots of people.”

“I can’t imagine...” She cleared her throat. “I don’t have much time because I’m in between appointments, but I thought I’d call you now because...well, because if I waited any longer I’d probably chicken out.”

“You’re doing great so far.” Interesting that she’d told the truth. Equally interesting was the smile that had been on his face from the moment she introduced herself. Although that could be a result of having spent over an hour hearing that he was a persona non grata.

“A woman my age shouldn’t have this much trouble asking for a date, though I’m new at this trading-card thing,” she said, “but, anyway, I was thinking about dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“No. Tomorrow night. If you want. Because tonight I have a class thing.”

“Ah. Okay, tomorrow night would be great.”

“Oh,” she said, as if she’d expected him to object. “Where would you like to go?”

“Tell you what. You choose and I’ll meet you there. Wherever you’d like, anywhere in the city.”

“Seriously?” Her voice rose half an octave.

“Yes.”

“What if I said Masa?”

He laughed. “That might be a problem.” Max let that hang for a second before adding, “Getting a reservation there on a Friday night is difficult.”

She chuckled, low and slightly breathy. “You’re quick,” she said. “I like it.”

“I’m definitely intrigued. I’m also tempted to ask you some questions, but I think I’d rather wait until dinner. Keep the mystery going a little longer.”

“Oh, good. No pressure at all.”

“I hope not. It seems like an excellent way to meet. My expectation is to have a nice meal with pleasant conversation. If anything more happens, that’s a bonus.”

“I can work with that,” she said. “How about seven o’clock at Lviv? That’s in the Bowery, if that’s all right?”

He’d heard of it, but never been. He lived near several eastern European restaurants, although they weren’t very high on his list. “Sounds great. You’ll have to find me, because I have no idea what you look like.”

“And that doesn’t make you nervous?”

“Nope. Excited.”

“You’re very brave.”

“Only sometimes. Tell me, what really made you pick my card?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then it all came out in a rush. “I liked what you had to say. What you’re looking for. But I really have to go now, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I look forward to it.”

“Aside from being scared out of my wits, me, too,” she said. Then she was gone.

Who was this woman? He could tell she was shy, which was appealingly uncommon for the girls he dated. He’d never actually been on a blind date, which this essentially was. Not once. He’d only lied a little bit when he told her his expectations. Especially given her last, rushed explanation for choosing him, he fully expected to end the evening back at her place. Hell, even if they didn’t particularly click, it was only for one night. Whoever had thought up the trading-card idea deserved a Nobel Prize. Prevetted men with all their cards on the table, pun most definitely intended. Natalie would be the first of many, he assumed, a veritable feast of women who also wanted no-strings-attached one-night stands.

He settled back in the taxi, feeling a hell of a lot better than when he’d left his loft.

* * *

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Fred gave Natalie a long, slow assessment from the ground up. “You can do better.”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at herself in her full-length mirror. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just prefer your red dress.”

“Why?” She knew it sounded as if she didn’t trust him. He was never anything less than completely honest with her, even when a white lie wouldn’t have hurt anyone.

“It makes your boobs look bigger.”

Turning all the way to face him, she gave him her WTF stare. “This date isn’t about my boobs. We’re getting to know each other. That’s all.”

“It’s always about boobs. Look, if you want better advice, I suggest you find someone who cares more about fashion. I have work to do. Aside from the boob issue, you look gorgeous. Like always. But if you want to make him swoon, go with the red dress and your black heels. And don’t forget to put on the lip gloss, not just the lipstick.” He shook his head. “We’ve been living in the same house too long. Why do I even know what lip gloss does for you? Where’s Denise? I thought she was going to bring wine and you two were going to giggle and speculate until it was time for your date.”

“She’s at her cousin’s bridal shower. In California. On vacation. And we don’t giggle.”

“I was being polite. Your friend sounds like an asthmatic horse when she laughs.”

“She does not.”

He sighed. “She doesn’t in the same way that it’s not about boobs.” He stopped at Natalie’s bedroom door. “Now have fun. If nothing else, at least you don’t have to go to Oliver’s mother’s Shabbat dinner.”

“She makes a great brisket.”

He nodded. “That she does. But not good enough for you to stay with that schlub.”

“Get out,” she said, although she completely agreed with him. “I’m going to change into my red dress.”

Fred, with his skinny black jeans, two-tone shoes and argyle sweater, walked down the hall. She didn’t know anyone more fashion conscious than him. Damn hipster. If she didn’t love him like a brother, he’d be impossible to put up with. The sound of the fridge door slamming told her the rat had stolen one of her expensive pale ales. He’d pay for that.

She pulled out her red dress even though she wanted badly to believe tonight’s date wasn’t about breasts. Yes, she wanted Max to think she was attractive and for the two of them to connect, but she didn’t do casual hookups and she didn’t like it when men assumed it was a done deal after a woman had spoken more than five words to them.

Pausing at her purse, she took out Max’s trading card again. A man who played online role-playing games like World of Warcraft had to understand the value of patience.

* * *

THE BOWERY WAS close enough to Max’s loft in NoHo to walk there easily. The clear, crisp May night invigorated him. As did the prospect of dinner and what might follow.

Not knowing Natalie’s last name had removed the temptation of looking her up on Google. He liked that. There were far too few real surprises left in life. It was the age of spoilers—everything from movies to novels to credit scores were searchable. He liked to receive first impressions in person whenever possible. With a clean slate. Just hearing her voice had been enough to conjure images that were bound to be way off.

Lviv was down a flight of stairs. On the patio was a small grouping of outdoor tables, all occupied. It wasn’t a jeans-and-T-shirts crowd, even though the weather was great, but not suits, either. Inside at the small bar, there was a big age range and a relaxed atmosphere. He assumed she’d chosen a place that was both familiar and comfortable, because she sure hadn’t chosen it for a high-ticket meal.

He’d timed his entrance perfectly, but when a couple of minutes ticked by and no one approached, he turned back to the patio.

As he moved aside for a departing couple, he realized a lot of the people behind him at the bar weren’t speaking English. It sounded Russian, but was probably, in this part of town, Ukrainian, which he understood was close.

The voices receded as his gaze caught on a great pair of legs coming down the stairs. The heels were black and high, almost stilettos, and one step later he got a glimpse of a red dress swinging against shapely knees. He waited in anticipation as the rest of her came into his line of sight.

She was curvier than a lot of women he knew, and he liked that. He didn’t mind a thin body in his arms, although he preferred a softer experience. The red dress was tight around the middle, and the neckline showed off what appeared to be a hell of a nice rack. Dark hair bounced on her shoulders, soft curls that moved with her, and he only got a side view, but so far, he really hoped it was Natalie.

Dammit, now he’d done it. She’d probably walk into another man’s arms and Natalie herself would disappoint him. Aw, hell. What was he thinking? There were a lot of beautiful women in the world, in this city, on this block. All different kinds. For all he knew, she could already be here, scoping him out.

Turning back to the bar, he didn’t notice anyone craning to see the door. Behind him, a soft throat clearing made him smile.

It was the woman in red, and head-on she was...attractive. Not as stunning as some, but he wouldn’t mind looking at her during dinner or across a mattress. “Natalie, I hope?”

She nodded. Held out her hand.

He shook it, glad for the few seconds’ grace to adjust to the real woman. “Nice to meet you in person. I can’t wait to learn more about you.”

“I do have the advantage,” she said, gripping her purse once she had her hand back.

“Not for long.”

“Uh-oh. I guess fair is fair.” She led the way to the hostess, who smiled brightly at Natalie and gave her a hug.

“I have a table ready. The best one,” the hostess said, her accent strong. The woman pulled out a couple of menus, but before they moved, Natalie introduced them. The hostess was Mrs. Hanna Evanko—she owned the restaurant, along with her husband.

They were seated in a quiet corner where they wouldn’t be bothered much. A simple round table with white linens. He held Natalie’s chair, which earned him an approving nod from Mrs. Evanko before she slipped away.

He’d been given one of their large menus, but he put it aside for the moment. “Would you like wine with dinner?”

“I would,” she said.

“Anything you recommend?”

“It’s not a big selection, but everything is decent. My preference is red, although I’m flexible.”

His brows rose, but only for a second. Certainly the double entendre was unintentional.

Natalie blushed like a nice rosé, confirming his supposition.

A younger woman wearing the simple black-and-white attire of the staff came to the table with a couple of candles. She looked as if she might be related to the owners. After she lit the candles, she looked at Max and said, “More romantic,” in that same accent.

He caught the end of a sigh coming from Natalie. “Don’t worry,” she said. “They think being single is a disease. But they mean well.”

“I have an aunt Ellen who’s like that, although she’s pretty much given up on me.”

Natalie’s eyes widened, but just for a second. Then she was looking at the menu. “Have you had much eastern European food?”

“No. I don’t know why. What I have had, I’ve liked.”

“If you have any questions, ask away.”

“Am I the first trading-card guy you’ve gone out with?”

Startled, Natalie opened her mouth, but didn’t speak right away. “Yes,” she said, finally, but he got the feeling she wanted to say more.

He leaned forward, as if to tell her a secret, but he was actually checking out the dilation of her pupils, the way her breath caught on an inhale. “I’ll make sure this evening lives up to your expectations.” Then he sat back, picked up the menu he’d set aside and said, “Studenetz?”

Natalie blinked twice as she moved her gaze. She touched her lower lip with her index finger and looked at him again with a smile that might have been wicked if it hadn’t vanished so quickly. “Fish in aspic.”

“Ah. Sounds like that might be an acquired taste.”

“You’re right,” she said, her voice reserved, almost formal. But that blush of hers hadn’t disappeared yet. “I usually recommend the verenyky. Dumplings seem to be popular in every culture.”

“I’ll try those first.”

She nodded. “Good. You can also try my borscht if you’re daring.”

“Oh, I’m daring, all right.” This time he really was talking about food, but watching her swallow gave him a clue where her mind had gone. Then the tip of her tongue swiped that same spot on her lower lip and he wanted to sample that instead.

“I see,” she said. “Brave and daring. That’s quite a combination, and we’ve just gotten started.”

He shifted his gaze to his water glass, but a second later he was drawn back to her lips. He liked their shape. It was easy to imagine how they’d fit against his mouth. “Your turn,” he said, just before he cleared his throat.

“To do what?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

She glanced at him, then away. “The first thing you should know is that this isn’t easy for me.”

“What do you mean?”

After taking a deep breath, she met his gaze again and didn’t waver. “The trading-card thing is an enormous stretch. I’m not what you’d call a social butterfly.”

“What would you call yourself?” he asked, wishing the waitress had brought wine instead of a candle.

“I’m something of an introvert.”

“Really?”

“It’s not that I’m too shy to socialize or go places, but big crowds can be intimidating and sometimes I need time to recharge on my own. The reason we’re at this restaurant is because I felt it would be easier to be around familiar people.”

“That makes perfect sense. Including the part where this is a stretch for you...”

“You have no idea,” she said, with a laugh. “So if it’s all right with you, I’ll start with the easiest question for me to answer. I’m passionate about film.”

Max put his white napkin on his lap and watched her do the same. “Film? I would have guessed books, but film is more intriguing.”

“I do love books, but film caught my attention when I was young and never let go. Old ones. Black-and-white movies from the twenties, thirties and forties. Fritz Lang, Preston Sturges, Frank Capra, Michael Curtiz. I work at Omnibus. It’s an art-film house and conservation center.”

“I’ve been there.”

She smiled, and it was as if he’d said the magic words that allowed her to relax completely. It was a good look on her. “Oh, nice. What did you see?”

“Um, it’s been awhile. The last three years I haven’t gotten out much. Napoleon. The Abel Gance silent film. I’ve been to a couple of short-film festivals, too, and a Buster Keaton retrospective.”

“I was there. For all of those. I help run the programs.”

“You’re a fund-raiser?” He wanted more of this Natalie. She’d been smart to start out with something she cared about so deeply. The light in her eyes and the excitement in her voice were compelling. He could imagine her letting go, getting swept away in his arms. She wouldn’t be quick about it, though, or easy. But she’d be worth the effort.

“That’s only a part of what I do. I’m the librarian but also an archivist. I even teach film restoration and conduct tours of the facility. I’m a jill-of-all-trades, which means my schedule is insane, but I’m very happy. It’s expensive to restore films, to keep the vaults at the right temperatures, buy the equipment. You should become a member.”

He laughed at that. Couldn’t help it. It made sense that she helped with fund-raising. No one would be able to resist her.

“Sorry.” Her cheeks blossomed with a flush that had a slightly different hue. Softer, somehow. “I crossed a line there. You don’t have to buy anything.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can tell you’re great at what you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

She fluttered her lashes, but it was more a sign of being flustered, he thought, than a flirtatious gesture. “Okay, now it’s my turn, because I’ve been dying to know. How have we not met before? I thought I knew every librarian in New York.”

“Excuse me?”

“My friend thought you might work at a think tank. Or maybe that you’d just transferred here.”

Max wasn’t sure what was going on. “I work at a law firm.”

“Oh. Okay. I imagine big firms have large libraries.”

“Natalie, I’m not a librarian. I’m a lawyer.”

“Wait. What? You’re...not—” She put her purse on the table and pulled out his card. He only got a glimpse, but that was definitely his picture. “—Max Zimm?”

He slowly shook his head, feeling as confused as she looked. “Max Dorset.”

“Oh,” she said, and sank back in her chair. “But...” She studied the card and when she looked at him again she was clearly mortified. She’d tensed like a watch spring and averted her gaze. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. I mean, obviously that’s my picture, but not my name.”

“I—I don’t even know what to say. Except I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, some of the confusion beginning to lift. “Clearly someone at the printing company messed up. What else does the back of the card say?”

Her lips parted with a distressed gasp. “This whole trading-card thing. I never should’ve—” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Look, it’s still early.” She calmly put her napkin on the table and stood. “I hope you can salvage the rest of the evening. I really do. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

Before he could even make sense of what was going on, Natalie was halfway across the room.