Page 6 of Infidelity Rules

Daily Special

Spring pea soup with fresh mint and feta

Crispy rockfish with charred ramp pistou

At Persimmon the kitchen is humming and I’m in full sommelier mode. Chef has a crispy rockfish special with a charred ramp pistou, a popular dish that makes a menu appearance each spring. It also happens to be one of my favorites. I could eat that ramp pistou with a spoon. And sometimes I do.

I’ve been busy the last few hours, guiding guests toward either a sauvignon blanc for the rockfish or a barbera for those ordering the seared duck with raspberries, another popular item this evening.

We also have several tables doing the five, seven or nine course tasting menus with wine pairings, so that keeps me hopping.

I’m so busy I barely have time to think about Zack and our rendezvous tomorrow morning, which is probably a good thing.

Tim and his entourage have come and gone, thankfully.

They all seemed to enjoy themselves and I was too busy to linger so I had very little interaction with Tim.

I panicked a bit when he tried to get the whole group on board for the nine-course tasting menu, but mercifully, nobody else was interested.

That would have meant way too much time for me at their table.

I quickly canvass the room, which is slowly starting to empty for the night.

My tables are quiet at the moment, so it’s a perfect time to take a quick break.

Chef wordlessly hands me a plate of rockfish with extra pistou as I walk into the kitchen and I gratefully dive in.

I would never get this kind of treatment as a server or even a cook, but we wine folk seem to have special privileges in the kitchen, something I have never fully understood.

I am hoovering up the last of my late dinner when my favorite bartender, Julian, wanders into the kitchen, looking for me.

“Hey Q. Somebody’s asking for you at the bar. A dude.”

Shit, I think to myself. Please do not let this be Tim. He knows I’m sort of trapped here.

I’m about to ask Julian what this so-called dude looks like when he disappears. Too late. I guess I’ll have to go see for myself. Ignoring customers who ask for you by name is frowned upon in the restaurant business.

I slowly make my way to the bar, circling the dining room first to ensure all my wine drinkers are content. I’m dragging my feet.

It shouldn’t be too hard to handle Tim, but it’s towards the end of my night and I’m tired.

The last thing I want to do is fight off advances.

I do a quick sweep of the bar but don’t notice Tim.

Maybe he left? I catch Julian’s eye as he flips a cocktail shaker over his shoulder.

He nods to an empty barstool with a barely touched drink waiting patiently for its owner.

I stare at it.

Is that a whiskey? Neat? I know, millions of people drink whiskey, but I immediately think of Marcus. Could it be? I just cannot see Tim sipping whiskey. He’s more of a beer or Bailey’s Irish Cream kind of guy.

I’m about to sit in the stool adjacent to the whiskey glass — may as well face whatever’s coming my way — when I feel him. My body vibrates.

Oh boy. There’s no way that’s Tim. Take a deep breath Quinn.

“Hey gorgeous,” says Marcus softly, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “I hear the sommelier here is brilliant. And unbelievably sexy.”

I turn to face him and look up into those Tahoe blue eyes again. He’s so much taller than me I actually have to look up, which almost never happens.

“I came here to see for myself if the rumors are true.”

OMG. What is it about this man? Quinn you are in so much trouble. Why, why, why can’t he be married?

“And?” I say, wishing I had freshened up my lipstick and checked my teeth for ramp pistou.

“No arguments here,” he says, gently placing his hands on my hips. “Although I’m still testing out the brilliant part. She has yet to wow me with her mad wine skills.”

I cannot help laughing. This guy. I mean, Zack is cute and sexy in his own way, but Marcus …

The man comes near me and I want to get naked.

Simmer down, I say to myself . Nobody is getting naked.

“Join me?” Marcus asks in his silky, radio voice, gesturing to the stool next to his.

I glance at Julian who smirks and nods, essentially indicating that my tables are wrapped up and I’m free for the night.

“Sure,” I smile. “I just finished up. Good timing.”

“I’m known for that,” he says, winking and pulling out the chair for me.

I don’t know where my head is as I really should be going home and focusing on my date with Zack tomorrow morning. On the early side, I might add. But Marcus is irresistible and what’s the harm in just a bit of flirting at the end of a long night?

“So,” says Marcus. “I believe you promised to teach me a thing or two about wine.”

I point to his glass of whiskey and say, “I hate to tell you this, but you just blew through your palate with that. There’s nothing I can give you that you’ll truly be able to taste.”

“What a shame,” he says, pulling my stool closer to him. “I guess that means I’ll just have to see you again.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. And yes. Yes. Yes. I am losing my mind over here.

I smile. “You are a persistent one. You don’t even know me.”

“That’s very true. But we can change that,” he says, leaning towards me, almost putting his forehead to mine.

Julian slides my usual post work Cognac to me and nods to Marcus. “Hey buddy,” he says. “Good to see you. Been a while.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” I ask.

“Sure,” says Julian. “He comes in from time to time. Started to come in a lot more after the boss man hired you.”

I look at Marcus and he grins and turns toward me.

“In fact,” Julian continues. “I believe his exact words to me were, ‘for the record, I fully support hiring six-foot-tall, leggy redheads.’”

I can’t help but laugh. I dig this guy.

“Guilty,” Marcus says, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while.”

Julian retreats and before I know it, nearly two hours have slipped by and it’s well past midnight.

We just can’t seem to stop talking and laughing and touching.

I want to know absolutely everything about this man.

Turns out, Marcus is a pilot and although he lives in Manhattan, he also regularly flies out of the local Dulles airport, so he is frequently in D.C.

Oh what an ideal arrangement, if only he were married.

Okay Quinn, I say to myself. You HAVE to get out of this. Give Zack a chance.

I finish the last sip of my Cognac and stand up. Marcus immediately does the same and we are so close to one another that I’m pretty sure a feather couldn’t slip between us.

He puts his hands on my hips and gently pulls me into him so our bodies are now most definitely in contact.

“I want to see you again,” he says. “And I’d like to make sure you get home safe tonight. I’ve only had the one drink and my car is just around the corner.”

“I bet you would,” I say, smiling up at him. There is absolutely no way I can let him take me home tonight. “My usual Uber driver is coming to get me,” I say, which is sort of true. I do have a usual driver after I wrap up at Persimmon, but I had to text him earlier to say I’d be late.

“If you’re sure,” says Marcus, tucking a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear.

“I’m sure,” I say. “At least for tonight.” Crap Quinn! Why did you add that?

Marcus grins and puts his arms around me.

OH MY GOD I WANT THIS MAN.

“When can I see you again?” he asks. “I would like to take you to dinner.”

Logic vs Lust! Logic vs Lust!

I hesitate. I want him. But I don’t want to get involved and I’m not sure how to reconcile this. I would consider a one-night stand but I don’t think it’s wise. I’m way too smitten. And if he’s not married I’d be in trouble. Fast.

Marcus notices my hesitation and leans even closer, his lips almost on mine.

“Are you already seeing somebody?” he asks.

“Sort of,” I say. “It’s new …”

“I’m not the sort of man who minds a little competition,” he smiles, gently nibbling my lips, his hand cradling the back of my head.

Good god Quinn! Two men in a day! Seriously? Reverse! Reverse!

But I can’t. We are now enmeshed in a full-on kiss. It’s soft and warm and perfectly sexy and I don’t want it to stop. I don’t want anything about this man to stop.

I’m utterly lost in this kiss and momentarily forget where I am.

Until Julian flashes the lights. Oops. I feel like a teenager caught making out in her bedroom.

We pull slightly apart, Marcus still gently brushing my warm lips with his.

“I’ll see you to your car,” he whispers.

“And then I will see you very soon after that. You owe me some wine. And, apparently, I have a thing for tall, wine-drinking redheads.”