Heart beating hard, Bo climbed out of the
little silver-blue car and walked into the cottage-style building he knew to be
a far more upscale establishment than its hippy-dippy furnishings made it
appear. Jeremy was sitting on an old church pew against the entry wall when Bo
walked in. Other would-be diners cast subtle glances at him—he was just that
handsome—but his mane was pulled back into a strict tail at his neck, or they
would have been staring openly. The smile he flashed as he stood went straight
to Bo’s balls—and his cheeks with a flush of heat. Bo managed to get a word
past his frozen lips. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
Their eyes met and couldn’t seem to let go.
Fine with him, but they weren’t even close to alone. Bo swallowed hard and
glanced around at the other customers, then back at Jeremy. “So, are they ready
for us?”
“Probably. They said they were getting the
table ready when I came in.”
Bo walked over to the hostess and used the
dimples. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Bo Marchand. You’re preparing a table for me and
my, uh, associate, Mr. Aames. Would y’all happen to be ready for us?” Flashing
all the expensive dental work seemed to do the trick.
“Oh yes, sir, Mr. Marchand. We have a lovely
table for you, private as you requested.” She fluttered her lashes.
He leaned in. “A very important business
meeting. You understand.”
“Oh yes, sir.” She looked behind her. “Violet,
please take Mr. Marchand to his table.” She grinned and said softly, “Or
anywhere else he wants to go.”
Bo chuckled and waved a hand to Jeremy to
follow as Violet led them to a booth toward the back of the restaurant. They
slid in on either side of the table.
Violet smiled. “Do you know what you’d like to
drink?”
Jeremy asked, “May we see the wine list, please?”
“Of course.” She stepped to a nearby serving
table and grabbed a menu. “Here you go.” She glanced down. “Can I ask how tall
you are?”
Bo grinned. “Just a tiny tad over six feet
four, ma’am.”
She giggled. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Jeremy chuckled. “You do package the charm
there, darlin’.”
Bo’s cheeks heated.
Jeremy leaned across the table and angled the
wine list so Bo could see. He said, “They have a few of my blends and most of
your vintages.”
Violet reappeared.
Bo said, “I’ll have a glass of the Marchand
zin.”
“Excellent choice, sir.” A grin tugged at her
lips. She probably remembered his name. She glanced at Jeremy. “You, sir?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“No Hill Top?” Bo asked.
“Nah, I like the good stuff.”
Violet walked away as Bo laughed. But then they
were alone. Choose something to talk
about. “Uh, so have you thought any more about how we can work together?”
A waiter walked up with two balloon glasses of
red and placed them on the table. “Enjoy.”
Jeremy nodded. “Oh, we will.” As the waiter returned
to the kitchen, Jeremy held up his glass. “To us.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Uh, to our partnership.” His nostrils flared. “I mean, to defeating Ottersen.”
Bo’s pulse fluttered in his throat. “To all of
those.”
They drank and Jeremy closed his eyes,
revealing long, thick lashes several tones darker than his dirty-blond hair.
“Oh man, you do give good zin, my friend.”
“I’m so glad you like it.”
“I do. So much.”
The words were simple, but they made Bo shiver,
and he sloshed a mouthful of wine between his lips, spattering some on the
white tablecloth.
