side.
“Always the gentleman, huh?” There was a tease in her voice and a slight smile on her lips.
“At the moment. But if you keep looking at me like that, I will have to rethink all professionalism.” I grinned at her and pulled out into traffic.
“Where are we going?” she asked , attempting to make conversation as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“It’s a surprise. I hope you like Italian.”
“Love it.”
******
We arrived at Mamma Maria about twenty minutes later. I parked the car and , being the gentleman I was, helped her out. She looked at me and smiled again. I could get used to seeing her smile.
“Thank you,” she said , adjusting her dress.
“No problem. Let’s get inside, it’s getting cold.” She nodded and we proceeded into the restaurant. The hostess greeted us.
“Hi, reservation for Di Giamico,” I answered.
“Yes, follow me.” The hostess weaved us through tables until we reached the private booth in the back that I had requested. I wanted privacy, and I wanted to talk to her, get to know her better.
“Thank you,” I said as the hostess departed. I helped Emma out of her coat , and sat across from her in the booth. The waitress came over and took our drink orders.
“Jesus,” Emma said , catching me off guard.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, watching her face for any sign of unease.
“Does every woman eye fuck you everywhere you go?” She was serious. I burst out into a fit of laughter. “What is so funny?”
“You’re jealous.”
“No I’m not. I am just making an observation.” She glared at me, and I laughed again. The waitress returned with our drinks and we placed our orders.
“So, Emma, tell me about yourself,” I gestured to her and she rolled her eyes.
“What do you want to know, Marcus, that you don’t already know?”
“Contrary to your belief, I only know basic information about you, even with the background check. I know you are 32 years old, own Malorie’s, your name is Emma Malorie O’Conner. You attended Johnson and Wales for culinary , and you moved to Boston four years ago. Oh, and you have a younger sister.”
She looked smugly at me . “See you know more about me than I know about you. I just only learned your last name, and the only other things I know about you are where you work, and that you have an amazing tongue.” Her cheeks blushed again as she realized what she had just said.
“Don’t forget my amazing fingers,” I added.
“What do you want to know, Marcus?” She took a bite of her bread and waited.
“ Anything, Emma. I want to know more about you, get to know who you are, and not just within our arrangement in the club.” I was controlled and serious. I did want to know more about her, I wanted to know every small idiotic detail about her life; what she liked for dessert, her favorite color, favorite movie, and favorite band. I wanted to know her.
Before she could respond the waitress delivered our meals and we began to eat.
“I’m serious, Emma. I want to learn everything about you. I know you feel the connection, the energy between us. I was trying to let myself take things slow, and I still will, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t get to know each other.” I took a bite of my meal and waited for her to respond.
“I don’t know what to say , Marcus. You have my emotions going back and forth, up and down.” She put her fork down and looked at me. Her eyes were filled with confusion, and hesitation.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just want us to get to know each other better. Please, Emma, just give me a chance.”
She was quiet , and it seemed like minutes before she answered. “Alright, fine. What do I have to lose?” The question was rhetorical.
We finished our meals , making small talk about the bakery, Chloe, and the club. “Want dessert?” I asked after the waitress cleared the dishes.
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” I paid the
“Always the gentleman, huh?” There was a tease in her voice and a slight smile on her lips.
“At the moment. But if you keep looking at me like that, I will have to rethink all professionalism.” I grinned at her and pulled out into traffic.
“Where are we going?” she asked , attempting to make conversation as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“It’s a surprise. I hope you like Italian.”
“Love it.”
******
We arrived at Mamma Maria about twenty minutes later. I parked the car and , being the gentleman I was, helped her out. She looked at me and smiled again. I could get used to seeing her smile.
“Thank you,” she said , adjusting her dress.
“No problem. Let’s get inside, it’s getting cold.” She nodded and we proceeded into the restaurant. The hostess greeted us.
“Hi, reservation for Di Giamico,” I answered.
“Yes, follow me.” The hostess weaved us through tables until we reached the private booth in the back that I had requested. I wanted privacy, and I wanted to talk to her, get to know her better.
“Thank you,” I said as the hostess departed. I helped Emma out of her coat , and sat across from her in the booth. The waitress came over and took our drink orders.
“Jesus,” Emma said , catching me off guard.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, watching her face for any sign of unease.
“Does every woman eye fuck you everywhere you go?” She was serious. I burst out into a fit of laughter. “What is so funny?”
“You’re jealous.”
“No I’m not. I am just making an observation.” She glared at me, and I laughed again. The waitress returned with our drinks and we placed our orders.
“So, Emma, tell me about yourself,” I gestured to her and she rolled her eyes.
“What do you want to know, Marcus, that you don’t already know?”
“Contrary to your belief, I only know basic information about you, even with the background check. I know you are 32 years old, own Malorie’s, your name is Emma Malorie O’Conner. You attended Johnson and Wales for culinary , and you moved to Boston four years ago. Oh, and you have a younger sister.”
She looked smugly at me . “See you know more about me than I know about you. I just only learned your last name, and the only other things I know about you are where you work, and that you have an amazing tongue.” Her cheeks blushed again as she realized what she had just said.
“Don’t forget my amazing fingers,” I added.
“What do you want to know, Marcus?” She took a bite of her bread and waited.
“ Anything, Emma. I want to know more about you, get to know who you are, and not just within our arrangement in the club.” I was controlled and serious. I did want to know more about her, I wanted to know every small idiotic detail about her life; what she liked for dessert, her favorite color, favorite movie, and favorite band. I wanted to know her.
Before she could respond the waitress delivered our meals and we began to eat.
“I’m serious, Emma. I want to learn everything about you. I know you feel the connection, the energy between us. I was trying to let myself take things slow, and I still will, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t get to know each other.” I took a bite of my meal and waited for her to respond.
“I don’t know what to say , Marcus. You have my emotions going back and forth, up and down.” She put her fork down and looked at me. Her eyes were filled with confusion, and hesitation.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just want us to get to know each other better. Please, Emma, just give me a chance.”
She was quiet , and it seemed like minutes before she answered. “Alright, fine. What do I have to lose?” The question was rhetorical.
We finished our meals , making small talk about the bakery, Chloe, and the club. “Want dessert?” I asked after the waitress cleared the dishes.
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” I paid the
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