An illusion. The conversation would’ve been one-sided because Tessa had never understood Doug’s business speak. The diamond choker around her neck would’ve probably been a guilt gift he’d given her after one of his affairs. And the glass would’ve been filled with sparkling water instead of wine because Doug didn’t allow drinking for either of them in public.
She didn’t miss this world.
And she didn’t miss that woman.
“Hello, ladies, do you have a reservation?” the host asked.
Sam stepped forward. “We’re here for the cooking class.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, his smile welcoming. “Follow me. You’ll be in the banquet room.”
The host led them through the main dining area and then through a short hallway and another set of doors. The banquet room looked much like the other side of the restaurant, but the lights weren’t as low and there were tables set up around the perimeter with cooking equipment and little bowls of ingredients. In the center of the room, there were smaller, more intimate tables where they’d presumably eat their meal after learning how to prepare it. Pitchers of sangria gleamed ruby red on each table. A number of people were already sitting at the small tables, mingling and drinking. The tinkling sounds of nervous, first-date laughter mixed in with the music.
Tessa’s stomach did a flip, and she almost turned to leave. Sam put a hand on Tessa’s arm, as if reading her unspoken intention, and guided her forward. “Don’t chicken out now.”
A man with a clipboard near the entrance grinned brightly. “Welcome to the meet-up ladies. I’m Jim, your event liaison for the night. Names?”
“I’m Samantha Dunbar, and this is Tessa McAllen.”
Jim scanned the clipboard, nodding. “Ms. Dunbar, your perfect match is Cory Heath, table five. He’s already here if you’d like to head over and say hi. We’re letting everyone chat and enjoy their drinks for a few minutes before the class starts. Break the ice, you know?”
“Sure,” Sam said, peeking over at the salt and pepper-haired guy at table five, scanning him from head to loafer. “Sounds good.”
But Tessa’s brain snagged. “Wait a second. I thought we were mingling with everyone?”
Jim smiled. “Oh, no, ma’am. Perfect Match is full service. We took the profile you sent us and matched you up with someone compatible for the evening. No use wasting time on people you have nothing in common with, right?”
“The profile I sent in?” Tessa asked, shooting daggers at Sam.
Sam sent her a please-don’t-kill-me look and gave Tessa’s hand a squeeze. “Just try to have a good time, okay? I promise, it’s no big deal. It’ll be fun.”
With that, Sam hurried off toward her “perfect match.” Tessa had to fight hard not to lose it right there. Not only was she going to have to manage a date with a stranger, but said stranger would be under the impression that they’d been matched together. And God only knew what Sam had put in Tessa’s profile. Probably that she enjoyed long walks on the beach, tantric sex, and belly dancing.
Jim was scanning his list again, and Tessa smoothed the front of her dress. She hadn’t thought to put much effort into her outfit tonight. This was supposed to be a cooking class after all. So she’d stayed in the pale pink blouse and black skirt she’d worn to work. But now she felt plain and out of place. Everyone else had put on their A-game ensemble for date night.
God, why was she even worrying about it? This isn’t a real date. She’d been trained by Doug to look her best at all times because you never knew who you’d run into, and sometimes that old urge was hard to shake. But she wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to drink sangria and to learn how to cook. That’s it.
The door opened behind her as more people came in.
“Ms. McAllen?” Jim asked, a small frown curving his thin lips as he lifted his gaze from the clipboard. “Do you have your confirmation number with you? You’re not showing on my list.”
“My what?” She automatically put her hand on her purse but knew she had nothing of the sort in there. “No. My friend set all this up for us both.”
“Hmm.” Jim tapped his pencil on the clipboard. “Well, I’m not showing you on here, which means we don’t have confirmation of your payment. If you’d like to pay the fee now, we can let you stay for the class. Then if you find your confirmation, we’ll refund you. But since you weren’t on the list, we won’t have a match set up for you. You’d be staying for the cooking portion only unless we have any other walk-ins.”
No match? That sounded like a fantastic idea. She’d never been so happy to be left off a guest list. “How much is it?”
“Two hundred dollars.”
A gasp escaped her lips. Two hundred dollars? She should’ve expected it at a place like this, but the number still caught her off guard. And it was a number she couldn’t fund. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to find out what happened to my original fee and do this another time. Maybe I can talk to my friend and see if she has the information.”
He smiled kindly, but she saw the instant dismissal in his eyes. He knew she was bailing because she didn’t have the money. He knew she didn’t belong there. “Of course.”
Shame tried to edge in, heating her cheeks. But she swallowed it back. She would not get teary over missing some stupid cooking class. She took a step to head toward Sam’s table, hoping that even though they were technically party crashers, her friend had some magical confirmation number. But before she could move forward, a warm hand touched her elbow.
“I’ll cover the fee.”
She stiffened at the touch, but the rich timbre of the man’s voice rolled over Tessa like sun-heated ocean water, making her want to close her eyes and soak in it, stay there a while. She turned around, her gaze going up, up, up, and finally colliding with clear blue eyes, a face made for Greek sculpture, and lips … God, his lips. She couldn’t imagine those had ever been used for anything but sex and sin.
She wanted to bite them.
As that image flitted through her mind, any shot she had at a normal, polite response evaporated into mist.
“I’d hate for you to miss one of the best meals of your life because of a computer glitch,” the man said with a ghost of a smile.
Tessa simply stared back like she hadn’t understood the language he spoke. The way he held her gaze had her thoughts scattering and her brain reaching for some memory she couldn’t quite grab ahold of. She shook her head, breaking the gaze and trying to clear her head. No. Get it together, Tessa. This stranger was offering to pay two-hundred dollars for her to eat. She knew how that worked. She’d played that game before. “Really, that’s very kind of you to offer. But I’ll just come back another time.”
He pulled his wallet from his pocket, pulled two crisp bills from it, and handed it to Jim. “I insist. And it’s no problem. I’m sure they’ll pay me back when they find your original reservation.”
Tessa shook her head again, even though her mind was already fast-forwarding and picturing how decadent it would be
