Читать книгу Scream My Name - Kimberly Kaye Terry - Страница 11

“Beautiful. I’ve never been here before,” Leila said as Mateo handed the waiter both of their menus.

She’d come to the upscale French restaurant, Loiseau’s, at his enthused suggestion after she’d decided to allow him to take her out to dinner.

She had been torn. She’d come to the office, not sure what to expect, and with the surprise outcome of both men wanting to take her out, the tension in Brandan’s office had been palpable.

Her objective was to petition that they abandon their plans to buy the block of land and toward that end, she debated which man would be the one more likely to hear her side. Which one would really listen to what she had to say.

She was a painfully honest woman, even to herself, therefore she acknowledged there was the added tantalizing element that both men were interested in her. And she doubted it had much to do with urban renewal and development.

For reasons beyond her, or ones she chose not to examine closely, she’d decided to take Mateo up on his offer of dinner and conversation. She’d had communication with Brandan for over two months, and all the man had managed to do was infuriate her, and have her long to strangle his neck.

She’d then taken a look at him, his big body casually leaning against his desk, observing her with a look that sent crazy chills running down her spine, and revised her opinion.

Hmmm. As thick as his neck was, she doubted she could wrap her hands around them to make good on her threats. She’d caught him staring at her, one corner of his mouth hitched in a smile that made her teeth clench, as though he could read her thoughts.

After seeing the smirk on his infuriating, albeit handsome face, her mind was most definitely made up.

She accepted Mateo’s offer, telling Brandan she didn’t want to cause him to change his plans for her. At her decision, some of the smugness dropped and she saw his face tighten when Mateo had escorted her out of the office.

She’d not been able to resist looking back over her shoulder as they left. She’d caught the tic in the corner of his mouth, denoting his irritation, along with the hooded look in his eyes when his gaze had centered on Mateo’s hand at the small of her back as he ushered her out the door.

“Yes, it is. I come as much as I can. Particularly with a beautiful woman. Makes it that much more…appealing.”

Leila gave him a small smile in acknowledgement of the compliment. Even if it was a tad on the cheesy side, she thought.

After she’d agreed to accompany him, Mateo immediately insisted he drive and Leila had politely told him no. She didn’t like the predatory gleam in his eyes, and no matter what he thought her reasons were for agreeing to go with him, hers were purely for business.

And well, maybe a bit of spite thrown in, against Brandan.

At any rate, she didn’t give him an explanation, despite the fact that he seemed to be waiting for her to do so. After a small awkward pause, after she’d told him she’d drive herself and follow him, they’d caravanned to the restaurant.

Now, as she sat across from him, she glanced around at the romantic candle-lit restaurant.

It was decorated in subtle, varying shades of reds. The stone walls were color-washed in crimson, with a faux finish that complimented the large murals depicting various scenes of couples, some subtle, some more overtly sexual, forms blending into the next, bodies molding against others. It all added to the overall sensual vibe of the restaurant.

She had to look at one mural twice to make sure she was seeing it right.

“Sensual, isn’t it?” Mateo asked, bringing her attention back to him.

Just then the waiter returned and brought a bottle of wine to the table. With a flourish, he presented the bottle to Mateo and after his nod of approval, poured a taste into his glass.

After accepting the fluted glass from the waiter, he brought the wine to his nose, gently swirled the contents, and took a sip. Once again, Mateo nodded his approval and the waiter filled his glass, then poured a second one and handed it to Leila.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed, lightly stroking her fingers down the side of the crystal wine goblet.

“I know the artist,” he said, referring to the murals. “He’s a friend. I’ve commissioned him to do some private work for me. He does commissioned works at a few local businesses. If you ever want to add something different in the way of decorating to your restaurant, I could introduce you to him. He’s a personal friend,” he finished, placing the glass of wine down on the soft cloth-covered table.

She looked him over suspiciously from beneath lowered lashes as she took a careful sip of wine.

His overall beauty, again, struck her, totally fascinated her. It wasn’t that she was attracted to him, sexually. Not at all.

There was no strange chemistry arcing between them as there had been with Brandan, yet there was something about Mateo that pulled at her.

He emitted an aura of blatant sexuality, as though it were second nature to him. His dark hair had a slight wave, his thin wide lips curled upward, even when he wasn’t smiling, and the gleam in his chocolate eyes screamed of…sex.

It unnerved her that she couldn’t pinpoint what about him was a bit unsettling.

Shaking it off, she smiled and answered, “That would be nice. We’re planning to give Aunt Sadie’s a new look. Something fresh, hip, with a twist, maybe bring in some old classic style to give homage to my great-aunt. She was a woman with style,” she said with a smile.

“I’ll make sure I get you his contact information,” he said. “Avant-garde projects are his favorites. He agreed to create the murals for Loiseau’s when he found out the restaurant was named after the famous chef, Bernard Loiseau. It appealed to the tortured artist soul in him, I guess,” he replied, and shrugged an elegant shoulder.

Leila raised a brow and titled her head. “How so?”

Mateo leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Rumor has it that the prominent chef had a history of bipolar disorder, and committed suicide when rumors circulated in France that his restaurant was in jeopardy of losing one of its prized star ratings. But as I say, it is only a rumor. At any rate, Renaldo—my friend and the artist responsible for these beautiful murals—found the story and the chef fascinating. For that reason alone, he agreed to create the murals.”

“Hmmm. Interesting,” Leila agreed, and took a sip of the wine.

Just like everything else in the restaurant, it was perfect. She swallowed the bit of natural jealousy that arose and continued, “About the restaurant…” Leila smoothly turned the conversation to the reason she’d accepted his offer of dinner.

“Yes, about Aunt Sadie’s,” he said, and again, she caught the subtle smile as though he held a secret humor. “That is why we’re here. To discuss why you are the only one of the owners who refuses to sell.”

Leila sat up straighter, tossed a few of her locs over her shoulder, and raised a brow, glad they were getting down to business.

As soon as Mateo and Leila left, Brandan swiftly gathered his briefcase and laptop and left, impatiently punching in the his date’s number—what was her damn name?—telling her there was a change of plans for dinner, and to meet him at Loiseau’s, instead of the earlier agreed upon club.

He wasn’t fooling himself, thinking the change was because he suddenly had no desire to go to the popular nightclub for food and dancing.

He knew Mateo. He knew that he would take Leila to Loiseau’s, and he damn well was going to be there as well.

Now, as he and Angela entered the restaurant, after sliding the maitre d’ three crisp hundred dollar bills, they followed the tuxedoed man toward a table.

Scanning the restaurant, it wasn’t long before he spotted Mateo and Leila, and he grinned. From his location, he’d be able to see the couple without them seeing him.

After pulling his date’s seat back, Brandan sat down as well and ordered drinks from the hovering waiter. Brandan glanced back over at Leila and Mateo, making sure he had them in his sights.

He felt like a damn fool, or some amateur dick scoping out his target. But damned if he was going to let his partner get too close to the woman before he’d had the opportunity to find out what it was about her that got him hard whenever he was in her presence, though that had only been twice.

Plus, he was way past the age where being next to a pretty girl should have gotten his dick so hard he could hammer nails with the damn thing.

Squinting his eyes in the dimly lit restaurant, he was able to zero in on them, then clenched his teeth together when he noticed one of her hands clasped between Mateo’s.

The sneaky bastard was reading her palm.

He’d seen him do that tired move more times than he could count.

He’d gotten the “gift” from his grandmother. Mateo had told him that despite his father’s protest that it didn’t look good for someone of his standing to have his mother setting up shop in the market reading palms and predicting futures, she’d ignored her son and continued doing what she had done in her homeland of Columbia before the family had moved.

As a boy, Mateo had always been fascinated with the practice, and after his grandmother told him he too had the “gift,” he learned the art of palm reading.

Yeah, right.

Just another way to get close to a woman, Brandan thought cynically.

“Oooh, I like this! I’ve never been here before.”

Brandan reluctantly turned away from the cuddled pair and smiled at his date.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied.

“I said to myself after you called, ‘Angela, now why is he changing restaurants? What surprise does he have in store for Angela?’ And you bring Angela here! I’ve been wanting to check out Loosow’s since they opened last spring. What a surprise, Sweetie!” she laughed, butchering the name of the restaurant and letting out a high, shrill giggle that drew other diners’ attention toward them.

Angela. That was it.

Although it irritated him how she referred to herself in the third person, Brandan was glad she had this time, as he kept drawing a blank when trying to bring her name to the forefront of his mind.

“Good,” he said though he doubted she was really listening, as she kept on speaking.

He smiled and nodded at what he guessed were the appropriate times, but he didn’t really know or care.

She had several irritating habits, and referring to herself in the third person was just one. She could go on for hours talking nonstop, not noticing if he edged a word in, in her shrill, strongly accented southern drawl.

He hadn’t asked her out for her scintillating conversation anyway, more out of boredom if anything.

Lately, all his female companions had merged into one homogenous blurb in his mind. None were distinguishable from the other.

All tended to be the same. Petite, because for some reason those were the ones he attracted more than any other type. Blonde or brunette, didn’t matter which, banging body, and into themselves and what they could get out of a man.

Completely self-absorbed. Angela was no different than the rest. And that had been the way he liked it, until recently

The last time he’d gone to dinner at his partner Damian’s home, he’d brought one of them with him at Wanda’s—Damian’s wife’s—request.

The next day at work, Damian made an offhand comment about her being like the rest. He said it in a joking manner, but it had struck Brandan.

Something was missing from his love life.

Not the sex.

He could get that easily. Flash a handful of money, flashy car, and nice trinkets, and it was his for the taking. His eyes slid to the woman across from him, chattering away like there was no tomorrow.

He knew women were drawn to him because of the money, the perceived power. It was a heady combination. From the time he started playing ball in college, and later pro, it had been a sweet exchange.

In exchange for great sex and ready availability when he needed it, he gave his women what they wanted. Generous when it came to gifting, as well inviting them into a nightlife that catered to the rich and famous.

But of late, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Though he volunteered to coach football at a local youth center, along with Damian, he felt as though something was lacking in his life.

He glanced back over at Mateo and Leila in time to see him pulling her chair back for her. She smiled at him and quickly walked away from the table, weaving her way through the restaurant toward the back.

Quickly, he turned to Angela and excused himself. He briskly followed Leila’s retreating back, wondering what had happened in the few seconds of his mental musings that had her racing away from his partner.