“You’re going to struggle if we’ve only gotten to rule two and you’re already forgetting. Rule number one was no worrying about work.”
“Right.”
As they entered the market, Gracie’s senses were swarmed with a glorious fusion of food scents, noisy chatter, and warmth. Everywhere people were laughing, eating, talking, and having a great time. She had to admit, it did seem like a more fun environment in which to meet someone than browsing profiles and taking notes on her own.
Des held her tight as he led her through the crowded stall lanes to the dining area. Hawker-style food carts ran the length of the market, selling everything from Indian curries to French crepes to churros, paella, and more. Spices and herb smells filled her nose, making her mouth water.
“I’m starving,” she announced. It was the truth, though food was not exactly what she had in mind.
Close in the crowd, she leaned into the hard warmth of Des’s body. Her fingertips brushed his jean-clad thigh and she kept her vision straight ahead. She felt wicked, far away from her usual, conservative self.
You’re not here to play pretend with him. You’re here to solve a problem. Eye on the prize, Greene!
She checked out the menu for a Greek food stall and a warm hand embraced hers.
“I’m assuming there are no rules against hand-holding?” He leaned down, his breath tickling her ear. She desperately wanted to turn to him, to see those full lips of his up close and admire every curve in detail.
“This is strictly a business outing.” She removed her hand from his. “Hand-holding is more of a date thing…and we’re not on a date.”
The reminder was as much for her as it was for him. Her body wanted nothing more than to fuse to his, to clasp his hand, to find his lips with hers, to explore and delve and taste. Gracie swallowed against the desire building in her.
They ordered their food and found a seat at the end of a long communal table. It shouldn’t have been romantic—they were surrounded by crowds and noise and chaos—yet the way the world dissolved around them whenever he was near was the most heart-fluttering, stomach-flipping, breath-stealing thing Gracie had ever experienced.
She was in way over her head.
“So,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as squeaky out loud as it did in her head. “How is this supposed to help me find a man?”
“It’s all about variety.” Des gestured with his fork. “You’ve been hitting the same type of guys via the same mediums and it’s not working. You need to break out of that rut.”
She had hit a rut. Dating had begun to feel like a chore and each disastrous date was making her increasingly despondent about the whole thing. She hadn’t been kissed in a while, she hadn’t had sex in…
Biting down on her lip, she tried to calculate the days in her head. Too damn long. She speared a piece of lamb with her fork and popped it into her mouth.
Maybe that was why she thought about Des constantly. She was parched and he was the refreshment she craved. It was a totally natural response, her body’s way of telling her what it needed.
So why didn’t she feel that way about anyone else?
Watching Gracie eat was unsettlingly erotic. She savored every mouthful, pulling the fork through her lips slowly with each bite as though she wanted the moment to last forever. Des had to shift in his seat; he found everything about her so carnal he was in a constant state of arousal. It wasn’t healthy, particularly if she had a rule against that kind of thing.
Des wasn’t a rules guy. In fact, some of the best experiences of his life had come out of breaking the rules—or ignoring them at the very least.
“Aren’t you enjoying your meal?” She motioned to his plate with her fork. He’d barely touched the moussaka, mainly because he’d been fighting off thoughts of devouring her instead.
“No, it’s good.” He stuffed a forkful into his mouth and she grinned. Under the table their knees touched, and his blood pulsed hotly. “Tell me, Gracie Greene, what do you look for in a man? ’Cause I’m not sure, beyond briefcases, shiny shoes, and bald patches.”
She laughed and reached for the plastic cup that held her wine. “The bald patch wasn’t a plus.” She took a delicate sip. “I look for a guy who’s got it together, who’s successful and serious. I look for someone who’s going to be reliable and stable.”
Des studied her. Those were all things that were far removed from who Gracie was. Not that she wasn’t successful or stable, but she appeared to be so brimming with light and passion that it baffled him that she would look for a guy who sounded so…dull.
“It sounds like you’re shopping for insurance.”
“And you look for a girl who’s into extreme sports and body piercing?” she drawled.
“I don’t look for anyone, truth be told.” He speared another piece of moussaka with his plastic fork. “I’ve been off the dating scene for a long, long time.”
“Why?”
“Picked the wrong girl, got burned, didn’t feel the need to try it again.” And he hadn’t experienced the desire to get close to anyone…until now.
Damn.
He might not be looking for someone in particular but he seemed to be falling for exactly the type of girl he promised himself he’d stay away from. There was no way he’d go through the constant judgement and shame of being considered “lesser” ever again.
Except he was sure Gracie was a different person underneath the ridiculous list-checking and rule-making behavior.
“It happens.” She shrugged, tossing her curls over one shoulder. But her nonchalance didn’t come off as sincere. “That’s why I don’t leave things to chance, much less allow the opportunity for things to get out of hand that way.”
“Don’t you ever want to get out of hand?” He reached over the table and grabbed her wrists. They were small and delicate between his fingers. She’d covered them with thin, gold bangles and he could feel her pulse racing. “Don’t you ever want to go crazy?”
“I don’t do crazy.” She looked at him through long, thick lashes. How could this girl look like a luminous, free-spirited gypsy, have a light inside her like she was wild and passionate, yet be so careful and cautious? “Rule number three, don’t go crazy.”
“That’s a terrible rule.”
She laughed, her jewelery jangling as she threw her head back. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little security in life.”
“It’s an illusion, Gracie. Nothing is secure.” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories of his relationship crumbling like an old building. It had happened so suddenly; at least it had felt that way at the time. Looking back, he saw he’d been in denial for a long time.
“Maybe that’s because you don’t plan things properly. I plan, I think about all the things that could go wrong, and I make contingencies.” She speared another piece of her dinner and chewed thoughtfully. “I wasn’t always like this you know.”
“Like what?”
“Concerned with rules and planning.”
As he’d suspected, she was forcing herself into a mold. For some reason this admission made his chest ache. Who had made her feel so unworthy that she’d squeezed her life into such a neat, risk-free box?
“Why did you change?” he asked.
She shrugged and pushed the remainder of her dinner away. “I made a few mistakes and I realized the error of my ways.”
“You don’t get to say that and then not provide me with an example.” Color him curious. Gracie didn’t talk much about her past and this was like getting a glimpse at a unicorn.
“I dated the wrong guy. It caused my family and me a lot of pain. I decided I wasn’t going to do that again.”
Now that was something they had in common.
“I figured if I put so much effort into choosing the right career and the right apartment, then I should do the same for a partner.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Hell, I put more effort into choosing an outfit for work than I did into choosing my first real boyfriend.”