15 - Game Face

Sheridan sipped the Pinot Grigio that Jon ordered for them along with their dinner.  Normally, she wouldn’t allow a man to order for her, but they came tonight with the express intent of having Steak Oscar.  That gave her reason enough to overlook it.

“So…”  Jon leaned over his clasped hands on the table.  “Tell me about your pedigree, Kitten.”

The left corner of her mouth curled up and she swallowed a snicker.  “Stop that.  I’m not playing those games in public.”

“Nobody can hear what we’re saying,” he pointed out, reaching to twirl the stem of his wineglass.  It sloshed ever so slightly as he schooled his features into polite interest.  “It’s all about the facial expression.  If I’m careful to keep a neutral look, it doesn’t matter that I’m telling you about my plans for that scarf.  Nobody will know that I’m going to tie you to the bed and fuck you until you scream for mercy.  We could be discussing the weather for all…”  He angled his shaggy blonde head toward the older couple at the next table.  “…they know.”

A flood of heat surged through her and Sheridan thanked God that she had a scarf to cover the redness of embarrassment and desire that was no doubt flooding her chest and neck.

“Now, see…” Jon reprimanded with the slow, sad shake of his head.  “That look will get you busted every time.  You’ve gotta get your game face on.”

Rather than kowtow to his admonition she turned the tables on him with a haughty glance.  “So much for getting to know one another?”

“Retract the claws, Kitten.  I have every intention of getting to know you and discussing the absurd biography that Karl proposed.  We just may not get to it all at once.  You have a tendency to distract me.”

That was something she could understand and agree with.  He was just as distracting.  However, that didn’t mean she was going to talk dirty in the middle of a crowded restaurant – not even for him.

“So how was your day?”

Jon smiled and gave her a subtle, yet flirtatious wink.  “Not as good as my night's gonna be.”

“Jon.”  If he kept it up, she was going to walk out of here.

Yeah, right.  Dragging him by the belt.

“Okay, okay,” he relented, sipping at his wine.  “Productive.  My day was productive.  Richie – do you know who Richie is?”

“Your guitarist?”

“Yeah.  In this case, my songwriting partner.  He flew in for the day so that we could work.”  Jon absently adjusted the watch strapped to his left arm.  “Enough about me.   You can find out most anything ya wanna know on Google.  How about you?  Karl said you…  sold your business?”

Sheridan chuckled softly.  “I’m sure that’s not all he said.  I believe Suzy quoted him as saying I ‘had some kind of crazy-ass nervous breakdown’?”

“More along the lines of ‘personal crisis’,” Jon admitted, with a matching chuckle.  

He was so handsome with his mouth curved into that shadow of a smile.  The little lines radiating from the corners of his eyes emphasized the devilry dancing in them.  Rather than aging him, they only intensified his good looks.

Stick with the program, Sheridan.  You just got onto him about inappropriate public behavior.

“There was no nervous breakdown.  No personal crisis.  I just got…”  Keeping it light would be best, she decided.  “…tired of it all.  Living became more of a priority than working, so I sold my business.  Now I do what I want to do.  Up until now that’s mostly been playing around with aromatherapy and massage.  As Karl told you, I’m thinking about dabbling in writing, too.”

The waiter arrived then with their meals and, as he was serving them, Jon asked, “What kind of business was it?”

“Bookstores.”  She nodded her thanks at the waiter.  The Steak Oscar looked delicious, and after the first bite, she could confirm that it tasted as good as it looked.  “This may have actually been worth the four month wait.”

Jon requested more wine for both of them and, when the waiter disappeared, remarked, “You could’ve had it nearly a week ago if you were more cooperative.” Pressing on, he didn’t leave Sheridan any room for comment.  “Bookstores? Plural?”

“Mm.  Yes.  A chain of bookstores actually.”  Sheridan gave him the name.  “I was supposed to be expanding from New England into the Midwest this fall.  Instead, they’ve been absorbed by Barnes & Noble.” 

“I’ve been in that bookstore several times with my kids.  You must be quite the business woman, Ms. King.”

Chewing thoughtfully, she lifted a delicate shoulder before swallowing.  “I don’t know about that, but I was a workaholic.  That first store was my life, and it only got worse with each new location – much to the displeasure of my ex.”

“Mr. … King?” He lifted a questioning brow, and when she nodded in the affirmative, asked, “Mr. King didn’t appreciate your dedication to your work?”

Her laughter was short and dry.  “Not so much.  I bought him out and we parted ways three years ago.  He’s quite content being a nine-to-five accountant now, I understand.”

“How long were you married?”

“Twelve years.”

“I made it eighteen before my ex got tired of being married to a workaholic.  Any kids?”

“Other than the stores, no.”

It was odd to be doing this so very backward, she thought.  They’d already been as intimate as two people could possibly be, yet barely knew the basic facts about one another.  On the upside, she wasn’t nervous about revealing her life.  It was just casual conversation acting as a placeholder until they got back to what they did best.

“Siblings?”

“Two older.  A sister and a brother.  Riley is three years older than me and Cole is five.”  A quirky little grin stole over her lips, and she confessed, “Riley used to drag me to Bon Jovi shows when we were teenagers.  She had the biggest crush on you.”

“Christ.”  He rolled his eyes.  “That means you had my baby pictures on your wall, doesn’t it?”

“Only a couple dozen,” she teased.  “I was jealous of your hair.”

“Can we move on while I’m still able to eat my dinner?  Talking about my fucking hair kills my appetite every time.”

“You don’t mind me talking about how good it feels to have my hands buried in it during sex.”  The statement was softly uttered, and her expression was passively neutral as she popped a bite of asparagus into her mouth.  Chasing it with another sip of wine, she reverted back to their previous topic.  “Siblings.  You have a brother, right?”

“That was very good,” he lauded quietly, putting his silverware on the plate and lifting his own drink.  “I’m sure they…”  He gestured to the same older couple as before.  “… had no idea you mentioned the ‘s’ word.  I have two brothers.  Tony is almost five years younger than me, and Matt is eight years younger than him.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

Sheridan looked up at the waiter and put a self-conscious hand over her full stomach, embarrassed to see that the contents of her plate were nearly gone.  A stolen glance at Jon’s side of the table confirmed that there was less remaining of his dinner than there was hers, making her feel a little better.

Carefully placing her knife and fork across the plate’s center, she requested, “Just a cup of coffee, please.”

“No dessert?”  Jon asked with an inquiring tilt of his head.  When she shook her head to decline, he requested coffee as well, sending the waiter on his way.  “It’s your birthday.  I can’t believe you’re not gonna have dessert.”

“I splurged at lunch.  The place Suzy and I went has the best tiramisu.  I swear it’s sex in food form.” 

It’s almost as good as sex with you.

“Oh, really?”  He reclined into his chair with a look of interest.  “That good, huh?”

Her eyelids fluttered shut at the memory of the sweet, creamy coffee flavor swirling over her tongue.  "Insanely good.”  

“We’ll have to get some.  If just talking about it puts that look of rapture in your eyes, I wanna see what you look like when I feed it to you off your naked body.”

The words were so casually offered, that Sheridan barely realized he was being indecent.  Well, except for the fierce shiver that stole down her arms.  She knew the couple acting as their propriety barometer would never have a clue. 

Feeling a tiny bit challenged, she rested light elbows on the linen tablecloth and locked gazes with him.  “If I ate it from your body, you’d never see my eyes.  They would be rolled back in my head with sheer ecstasy.”

“That’s a look I’d pay to see, too.” 

They both fell silent when the waiter sidled up to the table with a carafe and cups. Blue eyes held green captive as the young man lightly clanked their coffee cups onto saucers, filling them with steaming brew.  Sliding the leather portfolio that held the bill onto the table, he murmured a discreet, “I’ll get that whenever you’re ready.  Take your time.”

Jon’s lips twitched once then went flat with seriousness.  It was his turn to plant deliberate elbows on the table and he threaded the fingers of both hands together, bringing them to the linen surface with a discreet thump.  Leaning forward, he ignored the freshly poured coffee, even as the smell infiltrated Sheridan’s senses.

“Speaking of seeing, that’s another thing…”

She had no idea what was to follow, but the tone of those words was different.  He’d gone all deep and husky, and a thread of invisible steel wound its way through each syllable, alerting her that she’d best pay attention.

“No more hiding in the dark.”

“I…  I don’t know what you mean,” she bluffed softly, a bit alarmed that he could see through her with such little effort.

How had he known she was using the dark to her advantage?  That it was easier to be someone else under the cover of blackness?  A level of anonymity still existed in the dark.  She had almost been able to pretend they were still in Jamaica, where they had been without benefit of electricity or the burden of reality.

“Bullshit,” he scoffed in an undertone that she had to strain to hear.  “There’s no reason to lie about it.  I knew what you were doing last night and I let you.  Tonight, I’m not.  I will see the look in your eyes when I take you.  When you scream my name and shudder under me.  And you will see me possess you.  Own you.”

For the first time since they’d entered the restaurant, he touched her.  His hand crept across the small table, index finger barely grazing the surface of her skin.  He leisurely traced the tip of it along the skittering pulse in her wrist, and she could only hope he didn’t feeling it pounding as desperately as she did.

“I would ask if you understand, but the way your pupils are dilated, I’d say you understand perfectly.”

She flipped her hand so that she could trail a finger along the inside of his wrist, and lifted the corners of her mouth in a deceptively gentle smile.  Her gaze sure and steady as she spoke directly into his eyes with a subtle nod.

“I do.  I also understand that you’re a control freak.  I’m telling you right now that the only place I’ll allow you to exercise that control over me is in the bedroom.  Do you understand perfectly?”

“Sheridan?” 

Jon’s eyes flew to a spot behind her left shoulder, a polite smile immediately falling into place.  With his confirmation that the masculine voice hadn’t been a figment of her imagination, Sheridan’s eyes fell shut with embarrassment, afraid that she had pushed the boundaries of their game too far.  Someone had clearly heard her little decree.

Turning slowly, her embarrassment turned to relief as she took in the impeccable navy Brooks Brothers suit and flamboyant Dr. Seuss necktie.  “Jeff,” she greeted him with a genuine smile.  “It’s been a while.  How are you?”

Jeff Beckmann had stumbled into her first bookstore all those years ago, impressed, but with suggestions to offer.  Sheridan had been amazed that a man her own age had so much wisdom, but she took those suggestions, along with his inside track, and applied them to her advantage.  He was a big part of her success in the business world.

“I’m doing well.  Been out of town for a while scouting for new talent, and come back to find that you’ve fallen from the face of the earth.  You’re living in New York now?  What in the world?”

Sheridan turned to Jon, whose polite façade was still in place, but she could see he wasn’t happy about having their dinner intruded upon.  “Jon, this is Jeff.  He’s responsible for turning me on – turning my store on – to up-and-coming children’s authors before they’ve been discovered.  It proved to be very beneficial to business.  Jeff, this is Jon.”  She purposefully left last names out of her introduction.

The men exchanged a brief  handshake and Jeff said, “Of course I recognize Jon.  Who could have lived through the eighties and not recognize Jon?  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Stepping in before it turned into an awkward fan-encounter, Sheridan told Jeff, “I sold the stores and decided to pursue other hobbies.”

“Did the business just burn you out?”

“No, but it was close.  I wanted out before it got to that point.”

An exotic beauty beckoned to him from where she was sitting, and Jeff gestured to her that he would be just a minute.

“My date is feeling neglected,” he apologized.  “I need to go.  Sheridan, it was good seeing you.  Call me sometime?”

“Sure,” was her bland agreement, knowing that she wouldn’t.  After she divorced Ian, Jeff had tried to convince her to go out with him on a couple of different occasions, but she had never felt that kind of connection with him.  He had been a great business associate, but that was as far as it went.

“Jon, again, great to meet you.  You two have a good evening.”

Nodding, Jon silently watched Jeff depart before lining her up in his sights with a sly smile.  “He wants you.”

“No he doesn’t,” she scoffed, opening her purse and flagging down the waiter.  Sheridan nodded toward Jeff and his date, issuing the instructions to, “Please put their dinner on my credit card.”

Waiting until the waiter vanished with her American Express, Jon leaned on his forearms, his torso half covering the small table.  “Yeah.  He does.  And you’re buying him dinner.  Do you want him?”

“I’m buying him dinner as a professional courtesy and a thank you.  He was an invaluable part of my success for many years.  Dinner is the least I can do.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Sheridan leaned on her forearms in a pose that mirrored his, locking eyes meaningfully.  “No.  I don’t want him.  I want you.”