Page 31 of Santa's Baby
“Where else would I bring you?”
“I dunno. Just somewhere more…”
I smirk at her, because I can’t help it. Her smile is already infectious.
“Basic?”
“Yeah, basic. After the alleyway thing, you know.”
“I’m sure they have an area where they keep the waste, if you prefer? At least let’s have dinner first though, shall we?”
She kicks out a leg so I can see her chunky boot. “Yeah, these are going to be right at home in this place.”
I stare at her, and she doesn’t shy away from my gaze. “Are you a self-conscious girl?”
She rolls her pretty eyes at me. “Hardly. I was thinking more about you. I don’t give a toss what I wear in a restaurant.”
“Neither do I.”
“Seriously? You look like you’ve stepped straight out of somesuit porn monthlymagazine, and I look like I’ve just popped out to grab a meal deal.”
I step to her side and offer her my arm. “I think we are very well suited, actually.”
She holds back a laugh as a couple walk past and give us a side eye.
“Jeez,Mr Sinclair.I must look like I’m your rebel daughter.”
My turn to laugh. “I like that analogy.”
The flash of a vixen comes to life in her eyes as we start the route to the restaurant.
“Yeah, so do I. I love myself a bit of daddy kink.”
The restaurant is relatively quiet when we get there, just a few tables taken. I would usually be scanning the room for signs of opulence and inspiration for my own restaurants, but I have no interest whatsoever this evening.
The waiter is a gracious enough chap, pulling out Tiffany’s chair when we get to our table. I watch him as he watches her, clocking his curiosity. She’s a striking creature, even wrapped up in a hoodie. She emanates a buzz that can’t be ignored.
“Champagne?” I ask, and she nods.
“Yes, please. I never say no to some fizz.”
“De Chante, please,” I tell the waiter, and he trots off to the bar for the bottle of their finest.
“You could have said we were coming somewhere posh and eating out.” Tiffany’s eyes are cheeky. “Your proposal was the vaguest one I’ve ever had. I took it at face value, though. Thought you’d want the Tiff from the grotto.”
I put my elbows on the table. “I wantyou. As you. Whether that is the girl from the grotto or not.”
I get another flash of the vixen eye. “Yeah, well, I have a lot of different flavours. You can sample them later, if you like.”
“For one pound a go?” I pause. “Why did you accept?”
She shrugs. “Dunno. Thought it would be fun.”
I know she’s playing casual, just like she’s dressed casual, but I don’t want the outer shell. I want the girl inside the hoodie. Her brains, her beauty, her sexuality, her spice and soul. A taster just hasn’t been enough.
“Drop the facade,” I say, and lean in closer. “Why did you accept the proposal, Tiffany?”
The waiter returns before she has a chance to answer. He pops the cork and fills our glasses, and Tiffany gives a littlewhoopand raises hers in acheers. She takes a sip as the waiter leaves, and smacks her lips.