muttered in French. Hang on, that was Ethan muttering something in French—what? She glanced at him. He was smiling again, as if the movie was the most entertaining thing ever. How was watching paint dry even remotely fun?
And then, to her horror, the so thrilling action was finally interrupted—by an incredibly raw sex scene, featuring the artist and his lover. Not graphic, but so passionate and uncontrolled she felt like a voyeur. She sat completely still, as every cell burned up, and seriously wanted to escape. She shut her eyes but the sounds haunted her—and images popped into her head. But no longer was it the scrawny artist—no, it was the fit, filled frame of six foot several inches Ethan.
Oh, no, no, no—she was not imagining him. And her.
She was not.
She was so glad when the guy went back to his painting. Ten minutes of that settled her pulse again. But then there was another sex scene—a way more graphic one. The action was really ramping up now—this time with the wife. Only in the middle of all the puffing and panting Nadia’s stomach started rumbling—loud enough to be heard despite the sudden ecstatic shrieks of the woman.
Even though she’d known she was going to refuse Ethan’s pizza offer, she hadn’t eaten before he arrived—the butterflies hip-hopping in her stomach had made that impossible. So now she coughed to cover the uncontrollable gurgling sound, but that was somehow worse as the couple on screen kept right on rutting each other. She buried her face in her hand and simply wanted to die. Why hadn’t she checked the rating comments on the film and picked up on the high sexual content warning?
‘Are you not feeling well?’ Ethan asked solicitously—leaning uncomfortably close.
‘I’m fine,’ she ground out between gritted teeth, quickly glancing up, only to see total laughter glinting in his eyes.
Damn.
Finally the credits rolled—not fast enough—and apparently Ethan was a watch-them-till-the-end man. It wasn’t until the lights went on, bright and unforgiving, that he turned and gave her an even higher wattage smile.
‘Was it as good as you’d hoped?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ she lied as she stood and marched out of there. ‘So you speak French?’ Of all the rotten luck.
‘Mais oui, of course.’ He held the exit door for her. ‘Shame you don’t, because some of the subtleties were lost in translation, I thought it was a very interesting film.’
‘Really?’
‘No, it was rubbish.’ He let the door slam behind them. ‘But that was the point, right?’
So he knew. Of course he knew. No normal person would really want to sit through that film. They’d have to be bribed with a lot of money. Still, it had served him right—right?
‘Let’s get something to eat,’ he said. ‘I’m well aware you’re as hungry as I am.’
She’d intended to go home as soon as the movie ended. And frankly she had a headache from tension and hunger. She hesitated.
‘You’ve already cut off your nose to spite your face once tonight,’ Ethan said blandly. ‘Don’t do it again.’
In truth she was so hungry she was beyond able to make a decision now anyway. ‘Okay.’
‘Great.’ He hailed a cab. ‘My choice this time. I insist.’
It was a French restaurant. No, it was heaven on earth. Because along one wall stood a gleaming glass case filled with the most amazing pastries—cream cakes, custard and fruit tarts and chocolates. Nadia’s functionality reduced even more—she couldn’t think or speak, only stare while her mouth watered so much she very nearly drooled. She glanced round the rest of the room and despair hit—the place was packed.
‘We won’t get a table,’ she almost wailed.
Ethan looked down at her, the picture of smug calm in the face of her collapse. ‘We already have.’
CHAPTER FOUR
NADIA nearly fainted with relief. Ethan put his hand on her lower back, pressing her forward to follow the maitre d’. She jumped—he had to have one of those trick buzzers in his hand, because he’d just about electrocuted her. The shock made her gulp, and she was hit by a single rational thought. Should she really have agreed to this when her pulse pounded an extra thirty beats per minute the closer the guy got?
Low blood sugar meant she had no choice, right? Those pastries looked too damn good. She glanced back at the display case once more before taking her seat. The sight made her giddy and her thoughts turned crazy again. Maybe she could claim some ground in her quest to intrigue him. Didn’t guys like girls who displayed healthy appetites? Wasn’t there something seductive if you licked off all the cream or something? If she could raise his want level, drop-kicking him later would have more impact. Hell, yes.
‘What do you feel like?’ he asked.
She hesitated, toying with some really inappropriate replies—but she figured she should stay subtle at this point to get him over the world’s worst movie trick. ‘I’m going to skip a main and go straight to dessert. Two desserts, actually, if that’s okay?’
His face lit up. ‘Sure.’
‘What about you?’ She mirrored his smile.
He rubbed his flat stomach, ‘You don’t mind if I do savoury while you do sweet?’
‘Not at all.’
Total truce. Or so she’d let it appear. At that point she spent some time studying the menu—purely to have a break from looking at him. Too much of that made her go vacant, and she wanted to stay on track.
‘They have an excellent wine selection,’ he said blandly. ‘Would you like some?’
‘Not just at the moment, but you go ahead.’ Her smaller physique meant she didn’t handle wine that well. She generally had it by the thimble, so she wasn’t going to be daft enough to have any now. She waited until the sommelier had left to get the bottle Ethan had selected without even consulting the list. ‘So how did you get us this table?’
‘I sent a message from the cinema—found out what time the film finished when you were in the little girls’ room beforehand.’
She sat back as the waiter poured Ethan’s wine, bristling at the phrase “little girl”. So he’d known he was in for bum-numbing time at the flicks. She flushed—hating being thwarted, hating feeling this hot. She needed to regain her equilibrium and act more grownup. She looked at the burgundy liquid. ‘Maybe I will have some of that too—thanks.’ One glass wouldn’t make her legless. And, frankly, she was overheated after that marathon movie and hearing Ethan mutter in French and then spinning her mind by bringing her to gastronomic paradise.
He waited while she sipped. ‘Is it okay?’
It was fabulous—smooth, incredibly drinkable and soothing. She sat back after ordering, her happiness skyrocketing at knowing divine food was coming soon.
‘Feeling better now?’ He looked sly.
