HAPPY PANTS CAFE (THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES) (5 page)

Austin sat across from her and perused the menu. “So,” he said, without lifting his gaze, “why are you so interested in the café?”

Should she tell him the truth? If she said there was nothing interesting about it, he’d know she was lying. Otherwise, why would she be there? But if she told him everything, he’d never go home.

Harper cleared her throat. “Well, after the wedding-slash-tabloid incident, I had to promise my editor something special.”

Austin glanced up from the menu, and Harper noted that even sitting, she still felt so tiny compared to him. Probably because she was always looking up and he was always looking down.

“I thought you were embellishing about the tabloid thing,” he said.

He hadn’t seen her moment of fame-shame? Lucky her on two counts! Because he would have then realized she’d just lied about her name (the headline had read
Reporter Harper Branton Shows Her Stuff
), and he would have seen “her stuff” or at least a bubble over her stuff, which left much to the imagination.
Oh, the horror.

Harper tried to be cool about it. “It was just a stupid blurb—not much to see—but my editor says she’ll can my ass if I don’t have a hot story on her desk in one week.” It was Friday, so that left this weekend plus a few extra days to come up with a good story before she needed to write the article.

Gazing at the menu, he nodded. “I see. So what’s your next step?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, obviously, you saw there’s nothing worth reporting, which means you’ll be fired. What do you plan to do?” He looked up at her with those stunning gold eyes with green little speckles.

“Um.” Harper blinked, trying to focus her thoughts on the conversation versus lusty thoughts of this vision of masculine perfection who kept accidentally rubbing kneecaps with her under the table.

I think I just had a knee-gasm.

She wiped her brow and cleared her throat. “I really hadn’t thought about it yet. In all honesty, I’m hoping she didn’t mean it.” That job was everything to her.

“You work for Zel, right?”

“You know her?”

He smiled. “I know everyone, Marie. Except you.”

Harper suddenly felt a pang of guilt for having lied to him. It was just…was this really
the
Austin Royce sitting in front of her? It wasn’t sinking in. Not really. How had that little boy she remembered—large eyes behind thick glasses, goofy smile, and slightly awkward—turned into this? He looked like he’d just climbed off the cover of some steamy hot romance novel about a fearless racecar driver. And that hair—thick, messy, slightly in need of a trim—she wanted to feel it on her bare breast as he collapsed on top of her from exertion after having had his way with her.

Uh, Harp? I think he’s waiting for you to stop drooling and say something.

Oh yeah. Mouth? Mouth? You’re still working, right?

“I’m, uh, kind of new,” she lied.

“May I take your orders?” said a sugary woman’s voice.

Harper and Austin looked up at the sandy-blonde waitress.

Austin handed the woman the menu. “I’ll have a bottle of the Clos Pegase pinot and the wild mushroom flatbread pizza.”

Dear Lord
. That was exactly what Harper was going to order. Or wanted to, anyway, since she was pretending to be driving home afterward.

“And for you?” the waitress asked.

“Um…I’ll have the prosciutto, fig, and smoked duck wrap.”

“I’ll be right back with your wine.” The waitress disappeared.

“I thought you were driving home,” Harper said.

Austin stared at her. His lips were so full and sensual. His eyes were so intense. It made Harper’s insides vibrate to a state of near liquefaction. “Let’s cut the crap, Marie. You’re desperate for a story, and you don’t seem like the kind of woman to give up. That means you’re not leaving. It also means you know something I don’t, and if there’s one thing I can’t resist, it’s a little friendly competition.”

Harper shifted right into “show nothing” mode. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently. “I see no story, and I’m driving home. You’re the one who ordered the bottle of wine.”

“You, my dear, sweet friend, are a terrible liar.”

Dammit. I really, really am.
Harper shook her head, continuing to hold her ground.
But I need this story. I need to get rid of him.
She gave it a moment of thought.
All right, he’s determined to stay
. Really, all she needed were ten minutes alone with Ms. Luci and, perhaps, to interview a few of the customers exiting the café. It would take forty minutes tops to get what she needed.
I’ll make sure he stays up late. Perhaps, he’ll “accidentally” have a little too much to drink, too.
After all, she was a seasoned wine drinker while he, on the other hand, looked like a vision of perfect health, one of those “my body is my temple” sort of guys who rarely touched the stuff. One or two drinks, he’d be ruined for tomorrow.
I’ll get up early and beat him over there.

Harper looked up at Austin and squared her shoulders. “Fine. You caught me. I think that the café is some exclusive club for arranging marriages.”

Austin laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” Harper leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She noticed his eyes momentarily drift down to her breasts.

Don’t even think about it, nipples!

“Christina Bass-Andrews,” he said, “would never agree to marry a stranger. Second, arranged marriages are common only in very traditional societies. Christina is about as traditional as a Tweet. And,” he held up three fingers, “women like her would never let someone tell her who to marry.”

“How do you know that?”

“You tell me, Marie. You’re a modern, independent, good-looking woman. Would you let someone tell you who to marry?”

He thinks I’m good-looking.

She took a moment to allow her flutters to stop flapping their wings. “Let’s pretend you’re right and I’m wrong, which is completely impossible, then tell me what
you
think is going on over there.”

The waitress appeared carrying two oversized wineglasses, presenting a bottle. Austin nodded and then turned his gaze back to Harper. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, it has to be one of those female rituals invented by women desperate to get married.”

The waitress poured a glass for Harper to taste and asked, “Are you two talking about that place?” Her gaze flashed over to the floral arches across the street.

“Yes. What do you know about it?” Harper absentmindedly lifted the glass, forgetting to actually try the wine, and nodded.

“Well,” the waitress poured Austin’s glass, “it’s supposedly bad luck to talk about it, but I have two best friends and a sister who swear by the place.”

Both Harper and Austin fell silent and scooted closer like children who were about to be told a really, really good story.

The waitress filled Harper’s gargantuan wineglass the rest of the way. “I don’t know how it started, but that café has been around for a very, very long time. And people say that when you eat one of their cookies, you are guaranteed to meet your one true love within seven days.”

Harper chuckled. So that was what this was all about? Seriously? Like a Prince Charming lucky charm?

The waitress leaned in to whisper, “They say that a certain royal couple over in the U.K. owe their wedded bliss to this place. Along with a long list of movie stars.” The waitress mouthed the words, “Brad and Angelina.”

Harper couldn’t believe that people were buying this crap. “What’s in the cookies?”

The waitress shrugged. “I don’t know, but half this town will tell you that they know at least three or four happily married couples who met within the seven-day window. That is, if you can get anyone to talk about it.”

Austin smiled and sipped his wine. “Thank you…uh?”

The waitress made goo-goo eyes at him. “Charlaine. I’m Charlaine Hendricks. I live down the street in the little purple house.” She winked. “Alone.”

That was a blatant invite, and Harper wanted to claw her eyes out.

Whoa, Nelly. What’s up with that? This man is so, so not yours. And he’s so, so not trustworthy.

Right you are.

Harper took a real sip of her delicious, smoky red wine with sweet undertones of ripe currants.
Yummm…just died, went to heaven.

“You okay?” Austin asked, one rich, silky brown brow lifted.

I just had a wine-gasm
.
Got the panties to prove it!

Harp! Did you really just think that? What’s the matter with you?

“Fine. Yep. Just…fine.”
And now that we know there is a story here, it’s time to drink your ass under the table. You’re in my territory now, Super Ken. Get ready to muuuuumble!

Harper chugged down her glass. “That wine is so good.”

Austin looked at her empty glass, threw back his, and then poured a second round. “I know my wines. Just like I know how to get a story.”

Yeah. We’ll see about that.

~~

Three Bottles Later…

“You’re right,” Austin slurred just a little, full glass in hand, empty plate pushed to one side. “The news isn’t news anymore.” He flung his drunken wrist into the air. “It’s just doom and gloom.”

Harper swayed in her chair and then placed her elbows on the table, cupping her wine. “That’s…right! That’s why I write for the society column, dammit. Everyone is happy! Happy. Happy parties, happy weddings, happy! Hey, speaking of happy, what do you think they put in those cookies?”

Damn, I am so drunk. Please, dear gods of drunkenness, let me hold my liquor tonight. I promise to kill a tiny creature in your honor if I don’t throw up.

Austin shrugged his broad, square shoulders. “Nothing. People believe what they want.”

“Hi. We’re getting ready to close, so can I get you anything else?” The grinning waitress looked like she was ready for bed. With Austin. And Harper’s competitive side, lubricated by way, way too much wine, kicked in.

“Nope!” Harper spouted. “We’re all ready for that check so you can go home.” Harper lifted her brows and tried to stare without crossing her eyes. “Alone. You should go home. Alone. That’s why God invented vibrators.”

Austin chuckled and shook his head at Harper while pulling his credit card from his wallet.

The waitress smiled bitterly. “Be right back.”

“So, Miss Marie,” Austin leaned in, speaking in a flirty whisper, “where you staying?”

Harper laughed.
God, I am so drunk! And this guy has been doing his winer-cise, for sure! I’ll never outdrink him.

“I’m just,” she pointed out the window, “down the road at the Muddy Duck B and B.”

“Me, too.” Austin gave Harper a look, but she felt too drunk to translate it.

“Really? Because I got the last room.”

Austin cocked his head. “So did I.”

“You did? But how’s that…”

Oh.
Austin was making a move on her.

Harper let her drunken brain spin for a moment. She wanted him, too.
But that’s the wine talking. And you never listen when the wine speaks, because the wine only says really stupid things, like, “Yes! Order five hundred dollars’ worth of stripper underwear online, and then post it to Facebook as Look What I just Ordered!”
Harper’s dad still gave her hard time about that one; he’d thought she was in trouble with money and had taken up moonlighting.

But the wine speaks the truth this time, Harp. He looks like a frigging underwear model. He even has that glow. Yes, he’s all
glowy and masculine and sexy, with his scruffy jaw and those eyes with the chocolaty thick lashes, and—oh! Don’t forget that chin and those dimples…

“Wow,” Harper finally said, “what a coincidence that we’re staying at the same B and B.”

The waitress showed up with the receipt and wished them a good evening.

Austin signed off and then flashed a wicked little grin with those sensual, slightly full lips. Harper felt a little tingle between her legs.

Whoa. A smile-gasm?
And it was way better than a knee or wine-gasm.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Harper wobbled her way to a standing position. “Oh, yeah. We shall,” she said suggestively.

Was that too much? God, I’m so wasted. But this night was perfect. He’s perfect.
They’d been talking for hours about everything from their jobs to favorite movies and books and television programs and places to vacation and, well…everything! They even liked the same kind of dogs: Jack Russells. Honestly, the energy between them was staggering. It was like nothing she’d ever…

Stop, Harp! Are you forgetting who this is?

Yes, I am. Because that is what the wine is telling me to do.

Harper and Austin walked outside, and he offered her his arm. She looked up at him and smiled. “I think I drank too much,” she said, “but that wine and that food…so good.”
Especially that cheesecake!