Barefoot Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (10 page)

“Your dad sounds strict,” I said. I couldn't imagine my dad doing something like that. He would have let my sister and I reorder until we got something we liked. There was a reason my dad called us his princesses.

“My Dad's not a bad guy,” Aiden replied quickly. “There's a reason he's as successful as he is. He's just... demanding.”

“What does your dad do?” I asked. I imagined that his successful father was what had gotten him such a cushy assistant position.

“He's a businessman. He wants me to follow in his footsteps, but I don't want the same things he does.” He shrugged. “The danger of having successful parents is that they expect successful children.”

I bit my lip as an awkward silence came between us. I knew the burden of a parent's wishes. Despite the fact that I had more education and training than either of my parents, they let their disappointment show that I was just a paralegal one too many times for me to forget. Family was a hard topic for a date.

“Prime rib with mashed potatoes. Veggies on the side,” I blurted out. Aiden's brows came together over hazel eyes. I smiled nervously and explained, “that's what I'm picking for you.”

A slow, warm smile filled his face and fanned my current level of infatuation for him up another level. “Okay...” He held up his menu, peeking over the top of it every couple seconds as if he were trying to read what I would want off my face. Finally, he put the menu down. “Lobster ravioli with champagne butter sauce.”

“I was kind of hoping you would pick that,” I admitted with a grin. “I love the idea of a champagne butter sauce. I have no idea what it is, but is sounds delicious.”

“I'm excited for the prime rib. It's one of my favorites.” He smiled, making my world go bright again. “Why'd you pick it?”

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that it just sounded manly, but I decided I should tell him the real reason, even if it gave away more than I wanted. “My grandmother.”

“You managed to call her and ask without me noticing?” he teased.

“No,” I said knowing a blush was creeping across my cheeks. “My grandmother was the epitome of the conventional 1950's housewife and she firmly believed that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She decided that the reason I wasn't married was that I didn't know how to cook properly. So she tried to teach me how to cook her husband-winning prime rib.”

He leaned back in his chair, obviously enjoying my story, so I continued.

“She spent an entire day teaching me all her cooking secrets.” I smiled fondly at the memory. I could still see her smiling in that kitchen when I closed my eyes. “I failed miserably at cooking the prime rib, but we had the most amazing day together- just talking and laughing. I learned just how much she loved me and that she was proud of me. Really proud of me- even though I wasn't married. She just wanted me to be happy.”

“She sounds wonderful.” He cocked his head slightly to the side, a small smile on his face as he watched me remember.

“She was. She died a week later.” I forced a smile to banish the heartache I always felt at her passing. “Anyway, I ordered the prime rib because she would have liked you. She would have wanted me to make it for you, but you really don't want to eat mine.”

“So, you're using your grandmother's secret of prime rib to catch me?” he asked slowly, letting the implication of my story come out in the open.

I blushed even harder and opened my mouth to protest, but his knowing smile told me it was futile. “Maybe a little bit,” I conceded.

“Then I hope the prime rib here is as good as your grandmother's,” he said. A little tremor of hope and excitement went through me. He wanted me to catch him.

“Good evening, folks,” a little blonde waitress announced, coming up to the table and pouring us waters. “I'll be your server this evening. What can I get you?”

“My beautiful date here will have the lobster ravioli with champagne butter sauce,” he informed her. A thrill went down my spine at the compliment.

“Excellent choice, sir. And for you?”

Aiden looked at me, waiting for me to order. “He'll have the prime rib with mashed potatoes,” I said quickly.

“Another excellent choice, ma'am” the waitress replied, jotting it down on a little notepad. “Anything to drink? Some wine perhaps?”

I looked at him and shrugged. I hadn't even looked at the wine menu.

“The Trentino Pinot Grigio for her, and the d'Arenberg Shira for me please,” he requested. I liked that he sounded extremely confident in selecting something, especially since I hadn't seen him even look at the wine menu. “Bring the bottles, please.”

“Excellent again. I'll be back in just a moment with your wine, sir” she said before hurrying off to put in our orders. The staff was so formal and polite with all the sirs and ma'ams.
I
certainly felt rich.

“Trentino Pinot Grigio?” I asked, picking up the wine menu from the table. I had no idea what that was.

“It's an Italian, dry white wine with light undertones. It will match your lobster nicely,” he explained. “I could get champagne if you prefer, but I didn't want it to compete with the sauce.”

I set down the wine menu without even looking all the way through it for my wine. “No, that sounds great. You know a lot about wine?”

“It's a hobby.” He shrugged the nonchalant shrug of someone who is actually an expert. “I eat out a lot—lots of business meetings—so I started paying attention and talking with the sommelier.”

I nodded. I only knew that a sommelier was the wine expert at fancy restaurants because Emma had talked about them. I had a feeling that working with Kathryn, I would begin to meet them at her business dinners. One of the perks of working for wealthy bosses was getting to have nice things.

The waitress returned then with two bottles of wine and accompanying ice buckets. She quickly uncorked his first, and handed him the cork when he stretched out his hand. He smelled it while she poured a small amount of red wine into his glass, then waited.

He spun the liquid in the glass slowly, his eyes taking in every detail of the rich red liquid. He inhaled the vapors like a perfume and then tasted it, rolling the wine around on his tongue. “Perfect,” he said, finally.

She smiled and added more wine to his glass before placing the bottle in an ice bucket next to our table. She then repeated the motions with my white wine. I did my best to mimic Aiden's steps.

“It's good,” I said. It smelled good, but tasted like regular white wine. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking for. The waitress finished pouring my glass and set the bottle into the second ice bucket.

“Your food will be out shortly,” she informed us, and then hurried off.

“What do you think?” Aiden asked as I took another sip of wine.

I fiddled with the stem of my wine glass before answering. “Honestly? I don't know anything about wine and I have no idea what I just did.”

He took a sip of his red. “Would you like to?”

I nodded and he smiled. He turned and snagged two empty wine glasses from the table behind him and set them on the table. “We'll start with yours. First, look at the bottle. Evaluate the shape, the size and it's condition. Then look at the cork. The cork tells you a lot about the wine. Is it a nice cork? Is it cheaply made? Does it smell good?”

I pulled the cork from the wine bottle and inhaled the scent. “It smells good. And it's not falling apart, so I guess that means it's a good cork?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Though, the cork is becoming less important as wineries shift to plastic or even screw-top to prevent corked wine.”

“Corked wine?” I asked.

“Where the cork has contaminated the wine,” he explained.

“Oh, okay.” I held up the cork. “This does not have that.”

“Next, the sample.” Aiden poured a small amount of the golden liquid into an empty wine glass. “Look at the wine. Look at the color. It tells you about maturity and quality. Color changes with age—whites darken and reds lighten. It should also be clear and not have anything floating in it.”

The wine looked golden and soft. I couldn't see anything wrong so I nodded for him to continue.

“Now, swirl.” He demonstrated the gentle rocking motion with his wrist. “See how it runs down the glass? Those are the 'legs'. The faster they run down the side, the less alcohol and body it will have. Long legs indicate a fuller body and more alcohol.”

“How do my legs compare?” I asked, looking at my wine and trying to decide if the liquid was moving fast or slow. I didn't even think of the sexual implication until he bent to the side and lifted up the table cloth.

“You have short legs, though very nice ones. Much like your wine.” Aiden winked and flashed me a cocky smile that made my stomach flutter.

I blushed, embarrassed that I had walked so blindly into that, but took the compliment.

“Now, the most important part: the smell.” Aiden watched as I put the open glass to my nose and inhaled. “Swirling it helps aerate the wine and increase the smell. Close your eyes and tell me what you smell.”

“I smell... wine.” I opened my eyes, feeling defeated.

“Try again,” he coached.

I took one last look at him and closed my eyes. I needed to concentrate. “I smell... apples. Green apples.” I opened my eyes, surprised at the new scent in my wine.

He grinned. “Good. What else?”

“Citrus. It reminds me of limes,” I said hesitantly. I didn't want to be wrong.

“Perfect. Now taste it,” he instructed. “ Just a small taste, let it run across your tongue and fill your senses.”

I tried not to squirm as I thought of the erotic implications of that sentence. I would like to run him across my tongue and have him fill my senses. I kept my eyes closed, knowing that he would see all my lusty thoughts if I opened them. “It's not sweet, but crisp. I can taste the apple in it. There's no burn at the end like some wines have.”

“Excellent,” he praised me. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me. There was a small pride and a lot of desire in that gaze. A deep need in my core started ache for him.

“Can I try yours?” I asked, setting my glass down.

“Please,” he responded, obviously glad I wanted to try more. “Have a sip of water and then try it.” I sipped on my water to clear the taste of the first wine before he handed me the bottle and a new glass.

My hands shook a little as I poured a small amount and narrated my actions. “The bottle is pretty. The cork looks and smells good.” I set the bottle and cork down and picked up the wine glass to swirl. “Yours has longer legs than mine, which is true it both cases.”

Aiden chuckled and I grinned at him before closing my eyes to smell the wine.

“I smell... pepper. And soil.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “But it's a good soil smell, not like
dirt
dirt. It smells drinkable.”

Aiden laughed. “Good. Try it and see what you think.”

I took a small sip, hoping his eyes were on my lips. The idea that he was watching my mouth made my female parts ache for his touch. “It's got a dark, fruity taste.” I scrunched my nose. “And it's got that bitter wine taste at the end.”

“Those are tanins. You'll learn to love them,” he promised. “Do you like it?”

“It's good.” I took another small sip, liking the first part but not the tanins.

“Do you want more?” he asked, watching my face but keeping his laughter to himself.

“No, thank you,” I answered. “I like mine better.”

Just then our food arrived. The waitress set it down in front of us, made sure we were happy and then disappeared to leave us alone once again. I took a bite and instantly found my way to food heaven.

“This is delicious,” I moaned. “How's yours?”

He cut off a small piece, put it on his fork, and then held it out for me to eat. I only hesitated for a second before leaning forward and taking it in my mouth.

“It's perfect. Grandma would be proud,” I told him, enjoy the tender piece of meat.

“I agree,” he said with a grin. He took another bite.

“Why'd you pick the lobster for me?” I asked, taking a sip of wine before going back to my dinner.

He paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I just thought it would impress you. Lobster in a champagne butter sauce sounds fancy and awesome. I don't have a good story for it.”

“What? No story?” I teased.

“I did tell you the origin of the game,” he countered. “That has to count for something.”

I laughed, enjoying his honesty. “Well, it's delicious. Want some?” I held out a my fork with a bite prepared for him. He took it carefully in his teeth. I liked that the next bite I took would have him on it.

“I think your grandma would approve of that as well,” he said quietly. I grinned. I knew she would most certainly approve, and it had nothing to do with the food.

A
iden took my hand in his as we left the restaurant. The night air was still tropically warm and the ocean breeze ruffled my skirt. This truly was paradise.

“Walk on the beach with me?” Aiden asked, pulling me gently toward the sound of water. I would have followed him willingly into a volcano. A moonlit walk on the beach was better than I could have dreamed.

“That sounds great,” I agreed. It only took us a moment to reach the sand. My heels immediately sank and I knew I would twist an ankle if I stayed on them. “Hold on, I need to take my shoes off to walk in the sand.”

“Barefoot again?” he teased gently as he also removed his shoes. He finished nearly as soon as I did, standing beside me in the sand. “How tall are those heels?”

“Tall?” I shrugged. I had no idea the actual height, just that they were taller than my usual selection of heels.

“I like you this height better,” he told me. A warm flush went through me. No one had ever said that to me before. I always thought I was too short and needed heels.

“Really? I thought guys liked the tall, leggy blondes best.”

“I can't do this with a tall, leggy blonde,” he informed me, stepping close and draping his arm over my shoulder. Goosebumps and want skittered across my skin. I could barely believe that this handsome, funny, man was holding me on a moonlit beach. It seemed too good to be true.