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“Don’t even try it,” he said, and handed the card back to the waitress. “The white at the top, please. Bring the bottle.”
The waitress beamed. “Be right back with your drinks.”
Cade gave Kylie a small, mock-disappointed shake of his head. “Water? Really?”
“Water goes with everything,” she retorted. Plus, water was cheap, and Kylie tended to eat cheap lately. Nana Sloane’s care was the best that she could buy, but it was also tearing through Kylie’s savings. “Besides, you never know when you have to drive a drunk billionaire home.”
Instead of being wounded at her needling, he just smiled that slow, gorgeous smile of his. “I’ll have you know that was the best night I can remember in a long damn time.”
It was for her, too. She stared down at their joined hands and then carefully pulled hers from his. Maybe that was what made this so hard. “Cade. I really only came out because I wanted to tell you that we can’t date. We really, really can’t. I need my job, and you know Daphne’s going to be furious if she finds out we’re dating. It’s just not smart for me to be out with you.” Even though everything in me wants this to go on forever.
“And I told you, I’ll handle Daphne.”
Thing was, Kylie wasn’t sure Daphne could be handled. But she didn’t disagree again. The waitress arrived with the wine and a silver bucket full of ice, and made a big show of uncorking while chattering about the menu and tonight’s specials. They were both quiet as wine was poured. Then they took their glasses, gave a tiny, awkward toast, and sipped.
It was utterly delicious: rich and full-bodied and just a hint of sweet. She took another sip just because it was so good. “This is lovely.”
They ordered surf and turf since neither one of them was familiar with fondue, and the waitress eventually set down a pot on a burner in front of them, filled it with cheese, and gave them an assortment of breads and vegetables to dip, and several skewers for them to use.
Kylie tried to skewer a baby carrot and failed. “I . . . don’t think I’m very good at this.”
Cade chuckled and speared a piece of bread, dipping it into the sauce. “How about I just feed you instead?”
She squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. The hot guy feeding the fat chick? How was that going to look? Ugh. She glanced around and for the first time noticed that this entire side of the restaurant was deserted. “Boy, they’re not very busy tonight, are they?”
“I offered to pay a premium if they left these tables empty,” Cade said, dipping the bread into the cheese and then lifting the entire thing toward Kylie’s mouth. “Now, open up.”
“Cade,” she protested, “really—”
“If you don’t, I won’t fund an orphanage in China.”
She began to laugh despite herself. “Do you use that line every time?”
“Yes. Now open up.”
Obediently she did, and to her surprise, he plucked the bread off the skewer and placed it gently between her lips, his fingers brushing against her mouth. Okay, that was sexy. Just like that, she felt another charge of desire ricochet through her. She swallowed and then quickly reached for her wine again. She shouldn’t be doing this. Really, really shouldn’t. When he attempted to feed her another piece, she waved him off and pretended to focus on her wine . . . which wasn’t so difficult, since it was rather yummy. “This wine is incredible.”
“I’d hope so at five hundred a bottle.”
Kylie choked, just a little. “Did you say . . . five hundred?” Jesus. No wonder it was so heavenly. She eyed the bottle. Cade’s glass was still nearly full and he wasn’t drinking much. She’d feel like an ass if they didn’t drink all of it, so she picked up the bottle and refilled both of their glasses. “You have to drink with me, then.”
He lifted his glass to her. “Bottoms up?”
“Sounds good.” She clinked her glass to his and took another healthy sip.
“So,” he said, after taking a drink. “How is the tour going?”
“Onstage or offstage?”
“The fact that you have to qualify that makes me worried.” Cade’s handsome face drew into a frown. “Has she been sick a lot, then?”
“Sick?” Kylie took another healthy sip of the wine. It really was delicious. “I don’t recall her being sick.”
“She smoking a lot?”
Funny . . . she didn’t recall that, either. “Not sure. Why?”