Things That Go Hump In The Night (9 page)

She was pretty sure he hadn't, but there was just the tiniest niggling doubt...

"Trust exercise, right?" responded Gabriel, leaving her to wonder whether Ami had been teasing her, after all.

When a smiling Ami returned with a tall glass, Nicole sipped cautiously and found her cocktail a refreshing concoction flavored with cucumber and lemon, with just a dash of simple syrup.

"Delicious," she said, meeting Gabriel's sardonic gaze. "A little light on the sardines, though." A thought occurred to her. "You're fluent in Japanese?"

Gabriel shrugged. "My father worked in Tokyo for a few years when I was younger. It was a survival skill. I'm a little out of practice now."

"Is your dad Japanese?" Nicole asked, delicately, hoping for more information.

"Greek, actually," said Gabriel, taking a sip from his own glass, which smelled of pineapple and was garnished with a sprig of cilantro. "He was born on the island of Crete, but he's been living in the US for many years now. And my mother was born in Greece, too, but on the mainland."

"Besides Rafe and Michael, do you have any other brothers and sisters?" Nicole took another swallow of her own drink. It was really good.

"A few half-sibs," Gabriel said, "From my parents' previous marriages. But they were already grown up and gone from home when I was growing up, so it was really just us three boys."

"That must have been fun for your mom," commented Nicole.

Gabriel chuckled. "We were always extremely well-behaved around my mother. Don't get me wrong—she was very loving, but she never tolerated bullshit of any kind. Rafe used to call her Medusa...but even he never said it where she could hear him. Except once, when Michael dared him." Gabriel shuddered dramatically, and Nicole laughed. "
Never
again. My father always said we were the politest trio of little demons you ever met."

He raised his glass in a salute. "And you? Any brothers or sisters?"

"I have a younger brother," Nicole answered cautiously. She had been dreading this part of the conversation, where she would have to give Gabriel enough information to seem normal, without giving away too much. "My parents both work in the computer science field, so that's where I get my geeky tendencies. But Brian—that's my brother—is the rebel in the family. The last time I talked to him—" which had been nearly five years ago, an eternity— "he was arguing with my parents about wanting to be a musician and songwriter rather than a software engineer. Dad was pretty firm about music being a hobby, not a way to make a living." She laughed ruefully. "They're both pretty damned stubborn...I wouldn't lay bets on who wins that argument."

"I've witnessed a few of those arguments in my time," Gabriel said. "My father is a pretty low-key guy most of the time, but occasionally, one of us would hit a hill that he was willing to die on, and it wasn't pretty." He paused. "So you grew up around computers? Rafe tells me you're very good—too good, actually, for the kind of work we have you doing right now."

Nicole stiffened in alarm, and he put his hand over hers, which felt strangely soothing.

"We're really happy with the work you've done for us so far," he assured her.

She let out a breath. "I can't remember a time when there wasn't a computer in the house or we weren't discussing techie stuff around the dinner table. I always found it fascinating—it's like solving a series of puzzles that lead to more puzzles."

"That's how Rafe describes it," Gabriel said thoughtfully.

His cool fingers curled lightly around Nicole's hand, and his thumb stroked the back of her hand. His touch sent a jolt of sensation to the pit of her stomach, and a gentle warmth blossomed between her legs.

"He once told me that he couldn't believe people would pay him to have so much fun."

Nicole nodded and swallowed hard.

How long had it been since anyone touched her like this? And exactly how desperate was she, if just having Gabriel touch her
hand
was making her feel hot and bothered?

Ami returned. Her glance flicked to Nicole and Gabriel's joined hands, and her smile widened. "Your table is ready, if you'd like to be seated now," she said.

Gabriel gently released her as they both stood, but Nicole felt his hand come to rest on her waist as they followed Ami back through the restaurant.

As they wove their way around tables, Nicole found herself hyper-aware of his light touch through the thin, clingy fabric of her dress.

Instead of seating them in the downstairs dining room, as Nicole expected, Ami led them upstairs, where long, narrow corridors were lined with Japanese wood-and-paper screens.

Nicole's keen senses caught the scents and sounds of many people on this floor, all discreetly concealed behind the screens.

Ami stopped halfway down one narrow hallway, slid open one of the screens, and ushered them into a private dining cubicle before closing the screen to give them privacy.

With old-fashioned courtesy, Gabriel pulled out one of the chairs and waited for Nicole to seat herself before he sat. There was a window next to the table, giving a view down into the courtyard where they had just enjoyed cocktails.

"We're having Chef Sato's tasting menu, with his recommended wine pairings," Gabriel announced, just as Nicole realized that there were no menus. "You
do
drink wine?"

Nicole nodded. "I'll have to take it easy, though, since I'm driving."

Gabriel smiled. "In my experience, they pour about an eighth of a glass with each course—just enough to complement the food, but not enough to get you drunk. And we'll be here for a couple of hours, at least."

"There are going to be that many courses?" Nicole asked, curiously. "I'm starving, but..."

Gabriel chuckled. "It varies, but the last time I was here, Alex had fifteen courses, plus a few extra tastes here and there. Don't worry, though—the portions are all pretty small."

On cue, Nicole heard a polite tap on the screen, and it slid open to reveal a young Asian man wearing black pants and a spotless white shirt. In one hand, he balanced a black lacquer tray that held two large Asian-style soup spoons, two tiny ceramic cups, and a small ceramic sake bottle.

"Good evening, Mr. Amestra," said their waiter. "My dad says 'hi' and sends these as an
amuse-bouche
. He says he'll try to make it upstairs later."

"That would be great, Sasha. How's the statistics class going?"

Sasha wrinkled his nose briefly. "It's really boring. Lots of math."

He placed the tray on the table with a smooth graceful movement and studied Nicole curiously.

"Nicole, this is Alexander Sato, Junior. Everyone calls him Sasha," said Gabriel. "Sasha, this is my friend and co-worker, Nicole."

"Nice to meet you," Sasha said, with a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you, too," Nicole replied. "I'm really looking forward to dinner."

Sasha lifted one of the spoons and put it front of Nicole. It held a cloudy cube of
something
on a small bed of micro-greens garnished with delicate curls of lemon zest.

"Compliments of the chef: an oyster in Meyer lemon and tarragon gelee," announced Sasha as he filled one of the tiny porcelain cups. "Served with chilled sake."

"It looks almost too pretty to eat," said Nicole, admiring it.

It would be gauche of her to pull out her smartphone and take a photo, but she was
so
tempted.

"Please enjoy. I'll return shortly with the first course," said Sasha, and left.

Nicole had always been fairly "meh" about oysters, but the tiny exquisite portion in her mouth exploded with flavors—briny, citrusy, herbal. And the sip of accompanying sake was the perfect chaser.

It was so good that she was sad there wasn't more than a mouthful, but then the first course arrived on a rough-glazed earthenware plate.

Slices of sashimi tuna belly were draped over a small mound of shaved celery, sliced green olives and minced hard-boiled egg, served with a crisp, fruity white Pinot Gris

Nicole decided it was the best thing she had ever tasted...until the next course arrived. And the next, each lovingly described by Sasha as he served them, and each accompanied by a mouthful of perfect wine...reds, whites, and even a dry rosé.

There was a Winter Tidal Pool soup, served in a rough, asymmetric-looking bowl, that included bits of seaweed, chunks of fish, rings of squid, and tiny clams still in their shells, all immersed in a clear golden broth
.

A selection of sushi-type dishes followed—a translucent slice of hamachi floating on jade-colored cucumber puree, surrounded by little purple flowers. A tempura roll containing shiso leaf, with a sharp flavor somewhere between mint and basil and tender fish, was accompanied by a battered, deep-fried fiddlehead fern and Japanese plum that added a piquant, salty, slightly sweet tang.

One of the most striking courses came on a glass-domed plate. Inside the dome, Nicole saw what looked like a dense fog. When Sasha removed the cover, a cloud of fragrant smoke escaped, revealing two rectangular dishes, each with a square of glistening smoked salmon and a beautiful molded terrine of creamy avocado.

Then came the parade of hot dishes:
a bowl of chewy abalone slices served with shaved truffles, morel mushrooms, and white asparagus; a
lobster claw in a pool of spicy miso sauce; a chunk of perfectly grilled snapper served on a spoonful of herbed risotto; and a cut of meltingly tender seared Wagyu beef accompanied by a citrus-soy foam and freshly grated wasabi.

The final savory course was a thick slice of a salty-sweet Japanese-style rolled omelet, served chilled on a square of marble tile with a sprinkling of minced truffle.

Gabriel kept the conversation light as dish after dish arrived, confirming Nicole's impression of him as a very smart, driven man who possessed a wicked sense of humor.

And despite the dangerous flutter of attraction, being here with him made her feel calm and safe—two things she hadn't felt very often since Erik had turned her life upside down.

As they ate, Gabriel told her stories about the early days of Archangel, when the company consisted of Michael, Gabriel, and Rafael, plus nine other people, all working out of a converted old warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

With only nine employees, there had been enough room in the cavernous space for Rafe to organize lunchtime hockey games with inline skates.

"—our UI designer, Brittany, turned out to be our best player. She was a sweet thing who had us all fooled until she put on a pair of skates. Apparently, she'd grown up in Manitoba and had been the star player on her high school hockey team. We were in the process of organizing a league with some of the other start-ups in the area when Prakash broke his wrist in a fall, and our beta-test version of the security suite software was released two weeks late. Michael was furious, because we had customers waiting for the product. So that was the end of Team Archangel as far as hockey went..."

In return, Nicole told stories from some of her previous contracts.

Gabriel laughed when she described Scott, the newly graduated QA tester at her previous job, who had been saving money to buy a house with his fiancée. One day, Scott had decided that city rents were a waste of his money, since he was spending most of his time at work, anyway. So he had moved into his office, keeping an air mattress under his desk and showering in the office gym.

"The way he explained it, our office had an espresso machine, a microwave, and a fridge," Nicole said with a wry smile. "All the comforts of a bachelor pad, plus janitorial services. We even had a dry cleaner who picked up your clothes and returned them to the office."

"Now why didn't I think of that, before shelling out for a downtown loft?" asked Gabriel. "I could have used the money to buy a nicer car."

"The Tesla is a really nice car!" protested Nicole. "Way nicer than mine, anyway."

Gabriel made a dismissive gesture. "That's my 'take the clients out to lunch' car. It's roomy and comfortable, and it says that I'm successful but still hungry for new business," he said. "It's not my
fun
car."

Nicole cocked her head. "And what's your fun car?"

"I'll show you after dinner," he purred. "And if you're really good, I'll even take you for a spin."

"My mama told me never to get into a car with a stranger," she teased.

"We're still strangers after twelve courses? How can that be?" protested Gabriel, capturing her hand and squeezing lightly. "And we haven't even had dessert yet," he added suggestively.

His skin still felt cool against hers despite the wine. She turned her hand palm-up, and squeezed back. "Let's see if we can't bond over something sweet."

"I know I already have," he said, huskily, and she laughed, sure that he was teasing her despite his hot eyes.

"Nicole," Gabriel said, his voice still husky. "I—" He was interrupted by a sharp tap on the sliding door.

An instant later, it opened to reveal a smiling, middle-aged Asian man who was carrying a polished wooden box. He was dressed in chef's whites and smelled of fish and spices and miso, overlaid with the sharp scent of fresh herbs and lemon.