Lost Without You: Book 2 in the Chasing Olivia Series (6 page)

Opening the large menu, he runs his left index finger down the page. He tilts his head subtly and strums his right thumb across his sexy lips. “We’ll take number two-twenty-one,” he says, still looking at the menu. He turns to me and grins, and I can’t help but smile back. He edges slightly closer to me so our legs are touching, his left hand on the small of my back.

The bartender scurries off and comes back with a bottle of Alphonse Mellot 2006 Cuvée Edmond Sauvignon Blanc. After getting a nod from Chase, she brings over two glasses and places them on the bar top.

Stroking down the side of the glass, she goes through the show of opening the bottle and gives Chase the tasting. He takes a sip and nods. She pours wine into my glass, and then fills his. He picks up his glass and gives a nod for me to as well.

“To a lovely evening,” he toasts.

We clink glasses and take sips of our wine.

“So, Chase, where did you go to school?” I ask, wanting to know more about him. We got together so fast, we didn’t really take the time to learn many details about each other. He looks at me, a funny expression on his face. “I know you went to Harvard, but where did you go before that? I went to Connetquot.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “I went to public school until eighth grade. Locust Valley School District. My father wanted me to go to an Ivy League school, so he enrolled me in the Dalton School in Manhattan when I hit high school. Dalton practically guaranteed my admission to anywhere I wanted to go. I graduated top of my class and went to Harvard for both my undergraduate and graduate degrees for law.”

“Wow,” is all I can mutter. I knew about the law school part, but I never knew he went to private school.

“Yeah, my dad was pretentious.”

“Did you like Harvard?” I ask between sips.

“It was interesting,” he murmurs. “It was like a giant pissing contest to see who could get the best grades. The better your grades, the better your chances of interning at a big law firm. I didn’t need to showboat. I knew where I was going.” He gives me a sly wink.

The blonde hostess comes over to announce our table is ready. Chase nods and moves to grab the bottle of wine, but the pretty bartender reaches for it at the same time and their hands touch. She blushes. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No, let me,” she says, her voice breathy. Chase shrugs and takes my hand. Grabbing the bottle and a marble wine chiller, she follows us to our table. Chase is totally oblivious to her charms, causing me to inwardly smile.

The hostess brings us to a small corner table near the back of the restaurant. Chase and I sit next to each other and the flirty bartender places the wine chiller directly in front of Chase. “Do you need anything else?” she asks.

“No, I think we’re good here,” he answers, placing his hand on my thigh. She gives a half smile and nods, then goes back behind the bar with her tail between her legs. “What are you in the mood for this evening,”Chase asks, turning to me, his eyes filled with mischief. Lifting my brow at him for a moment, I ignore his innuendo and look down at the menu.

“I need to look at the menu first,” I say into the pages, a ghost of a smile appearing on my lips. He strums the inside of my thigh, making me twitch.

“We’ll, I know what I want,” he hums, stroking slow and steady. Looking up from my menu, my eyes meet his. His eyes, sparkling like storm clouds right before lightning strikes, are dilated and fixed on me.

“How is the halibut?” I squeak, barely able to speak.

With a sly smirk, he shakes his head and chuckles. “Very good, but you need to try the lobster tango mango.”

“Is that what you are having?” I ask, still flustered.

“Yes.”

“Well, then, I’ll just have some of yours.” I peek up over my menu through my lashes and give him a mischievous smile. His lips twitch, trying to hide the smile that’s buried there.

“We’ll see about that,” he quips, caving in and smiling wide. I love this playful side of his, how could I not? He has the most amazing smile. His eyes get this bright blue and he has a dimple that pops out—it’s adorable.

We place our menus at the edge of the table and a tall waiter walks over a few moments later. “Good evening,” he says, looking at me. “My name is Brayden, I’ll be your server. Are you ready to order?” he asks, smiling.

“I believe we are,” Chase answers. “Ladies first,” he concedes.

“I’ll try the halibut,” I murmur.

“Great choice,” Brayden says with a smile. Chase squeezes my thigh lightly.

“I’ll have the lobster mango tango,” he says, his tone clipped. Brayden writes the order down, nods, and walks away. Chase scoots a little closer, takes his hand off my thigh, and places it on top of my hand on the table. I chuckle and take a sip of my wine.

“What’s so funny?” Chase whispers, slightly affronted, making me giggle even more.

“Nothing,” I say innocently.

“Really?” he mouths at me. I give him a great big smile. He shakes his head and picks up the bottle of wine to top us off. “So, since this is apparently a confessional, what else do you want to know?” he asks.

“It’s just . . .” I stutter, “we really don’t know each other.”

“What’s to know?”

“I don’t know. Like, what is your favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Mine, too,” I say, smiling. “What about your favorite food? You already know mine.” He chuckles and I think back to that perfect dinner at Davis. Chicken Francaise and creamed spinach topped with Crème Brûlée.

“Yeah, thank the Lord for Brenda,” he says, smiling wide.

“I knew she was involved, clever minx.”

“I don’t know if I have a favorite food. Style, maybe. I love French food, and good Italian.”

“Can you cook Italian as well as you cook French?”

“I guess. Carla, our personal chef, showed me a lot of dishes. Her family owned a few restaurants in Northern Italy before she came over.”

“Okay, so let me rephrase the question. What is your favorite food to cook?”

“That’s a good question,” he murmurs as he picks up the bottle of wine out of the chiller. “I like making pasta. Tastes so much better fresh than store bought.”

“Holy shit, you know how to make pasta?”I ask, ecstatic at the prospect of fresh ravioli or lasagna.

“When we get home, I’ll make you whatever you want.”

“I can’t get over the fact that you can cook! Homemade pasta would be amazing. Evan, that prick, wouldn’t lift a finger, even if it meant he would starve. I did everything. I was often referred to by my friends as a Stepford wife.”

A frown crosses his face briefly. Shaking it off, he says, “For you, anything.” Bringing my hand up to his mouth, he places a feather-light kiss to the back of it.

Brayden appears with our entrées, placing them on the table in front of us. “Let me know if you need anything else.” He smiles at me as he speaks, ignoring Chase.

“Yes, we will. Thank you,” Chase says, dismissing him. Brayden nods and walks away.

“Wow, this looks amazing,” I murmur with the excitement of a child.

“Wait till you taste it.” He smiles at me as he picks up his fork and digs in.

“Mmm,” is all I manage to say.

“Here,” Chase thrusts a fork full of lobster in my direction. I open my mouth and he slides it across my lips. “What do you think?” he whispers seductively.

“Wow. This is so good.”

After we finish eating, Chase pays the check and we walk hand in hand out of the restaurant. “C’mon, I have another surprise for you,” he says, heading northeast down Simonton street. “Where are we going?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.

“So impatient,” he admonishes. “You will have to wait and see.” He squeezes my hand.

Chase turns us left down Greene Street, one of the main drags across the Key. The streets are packed and we weave in between groups, Chase never letting go of my hand.

A right on Fitzpatrick, which turns into Tifts Street once you cross Front street, then a left on Wall street—where is he taking me?

“We’re here,” he says, answering my unspoken question.

“Where is here?”

“Mallory Square.” He leads me down a stone path to the water. The square is bustling with tourists from the cruise ships docked not too far from here. “This is the best view of the sunset, and I wanted to share that with you.” He spins me toward him and places a gentle kiss on my lips.

Looking up at him, I whisper, “It’s beautiful.”

“There’s more, watch.”

There are people gathered in groups up and down the dock, watching flame-tossing jugglers, a sword swallower, tightrope walkers, an exotic trained bird show, and Golden Elvis with his sidekick, Silver Man. A man starts playing the bagpipes and people immediately join into the show, singing along.

Over a small footbridge next to us, the acts continue. “Some of the most intriguing and locally famous acts, such as Dominique and His Flying House Cats, perform here,” Chase murmurs. It’s like a giant circus without the tent.

Food vendors who have set up booths offering home-made goodies surround the area, and a lady squawks slogans in perfect rhyme to promote her cookies. It’s outrageous. I stand and watch in awe.

Hand in hand, Chase and I thread ourselves through the crowd to get a better view of the sunset. Nearing the edge of the dock, he stands behind me with his hands around my waist and chin resting on my right shoulder. Standing in complete silence, we watch the tangerine sun sink lower and lower, dipping down into the water, painting the sky in magnificent hues of fiery red and crimson. The water gleams in the last rays of the dying sun and as cool as the air becomes, I stay warm in Chase’s loving arms.

When it’s over, I turn to face Chase. “This has to be the best day I have ever had. Thank you.” I put my arms around his neck, lean up, and kiss him. He returns the kiss with fervor, nipping on my bottom lip. I groan low in my throat.

Breaking loose, Chase gazes down at me, his eyes searching mine. “What is it, what are you thinking?” I ask.

Shaking his head, he grabs my hand and we work our way back the way we came. When we get back to my room, I swipe my key card and open my door with Chase following behind. As I close the door, a feeling that’s been brewing all day overwhelms me. Seeing Chase standing in front of me and knowing everything he’s done for me, not just today, but each and every day, makes me tingle all over. I’m overcome with multiple emotions—love, admiration, lust. I watch him cross the room like a predator stalking it’s prey.

“Liv?” he asks, cocking his head slightly to the side, not quite sure what to make of me.

“You are amazing,” I murmur inching toward him, my voice low and sultry. “I had the most amazing day.”

“That was the plan,” he says, his voice smooth as silk.

Not being able to control myself any longer, I lunge at him, my hands fisting in his hair as I pull his mouth toward me. I force his lips apart with my tongue and a low groan escapes from his throat as he kisses me back.

Placing his hands on either side of my face, he breaks away. He takes a deep breath and looks down his nose at me. “No sex,” he murmurs with a sly smile.

“What?” I say in between breaths.

“That’s what you said this morning. No sex.”

“Wait . . . but . . . I . . .” He shakes his head slowly, a Cheshire grin spreading across his lips. “Crap, you took that seriously?”

“I’m going back to my room tonight. You might want to think before you speak next time,” he laughs. “I’ll be here at ten to take us to the airport.” With that, he walks out the door.

Right on schedule, Chase shows up to take us to the airport. The car drives around to the back of the airport where Chase’s plane is waiting. This is my first time on a private plane and I’m a little nervous, not knowing what to expect. The puddle jumper to get here doesn’t count; that plane was a death trap. This is so much nicer.

As we walk hand in hand from the car to the plane, Chase gives me a rundown of what we are about to fly in. “So, this is the Gulfstream G550,” he starts, matter-of-fact. “We own three identical planes.”

“It’s bigger than I expected,” I mutter in awe.

“She has a large, comfortable cabin and she’s able to fly non-stop for more than twelve hours, or over sixty-seven hundred nautical miles.”