Page 2 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis (In The Heart of A Valentine #17)

“She would love you. She has a weakness for intelligent women with attitude.”

Naomi stopped walking. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Valentine?”

“Christian. And yes, I am. Is that a problem?”

“It’s not professional.”

“This never felt like business for me, just you.”

She blushed but didn’t respond. We found our assigned table, and I watched Naomi charm my dinner companions—a federal judge, a tech entrepreneur, and a real estate developer who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

She handled their attention with grace, deflecting unwanted flirtatiousness while keeping the conversation flowing.

“The next item up for bid,” the auctioneer announced, “is a weekend in Tuscany, donated by the Navigator Fund.”

“You should bid on that,” Naomi said quietly.

“Why?”

“It’s for a good cause. Plus, Tuscany in autumn is supposed to be magical.”

I raised my paddle. “Five thousand.”

“Seven thousand!” someone responded across the room.

I looked at Naomi, who was watching me expectantly. “Ten thousand.”

“Fifteen!”

“Twenty,” I said without hesitation.

The bidding continued, escalating quickly. When it reached thirty-five thousand, I glanced at Naomi again.

“Don’t stop now,” Naomi whispered. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Only if you promise to make the trip to Tuscany with me.”

We stared at each other as the countdown commenced. “Going once, going twice…”

“Sure.”

“Forty thousand,” I called out.

The room fell silent. “Forty thousand going once... going twice... sold to Mr. Christian Valentine!”

Applause filled the ballroom, and Naomi leaned close to my ear. “That was completely insane.”

“Not when you’ll be mine that weekend.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I’m only half kidding.”

She shook her head, but I saw her fighting a smile.

The evening wound down, and I wasn’t ready for it to end. The thought of dropping Naomi off and returning to my empty penthouse didn’t delight me.

“Are you hungry?” I asked as we collected our coats.

“It’s past eleven, Christian.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She considered me, her lips curving into a grin. “I could eat.”

“Good. I know a place.”

“This is your idea of a place?” Naomi asked as I pulled up in front of Bar Note, a late-night jazz club on the discreet side of town.

“Trust me.”

The interior was all exposed brick and intimate lighting, with a small stage where a trio played soft jazz. We grabbed a booth in the back corner, away from the main crowd.

“This is not what I expected,” she said, sliding into the booth.

“What did you expect?”

“Some pretentious restaurant with a wine list longer than my graduate thesis.”

A waitress approached, a woman in her forties with kind eyes and no patience for nonsense. “What can I get you two?”

“Whatever you recommend that goes well with good conversation,” I said.

“Two orders of the midnight pasta and a bottle of the Sangiovese,” she replied without hesitation.

When the waitress left, Naomi leaned back in the booth. “So this is where Christian Valentine comes to unwind?”

“Sometimes. When I need to relax away from everyone, my thoughts included.”

“And here I thought all entertainment lawyers lived on overpriced sushi and networking events.”

I grinned. “I’m a guy who likes food that’s prepared for the soul, the same with the company I keep.”

Her lips spread into a soft grin, and she nodded but kept her thoughts private. Our wine arrived, and Naomi took a sip.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Most men in your position enjoy the power dynamic, knowing women want their money, their connections, their status. But not you?”

“I’m not most men.”

“No,” she said quietly. “That much is apparent.”

Our food arrived. It was perfectly prepared pasta with a complex sauce. Naomi took a bite and closed her eyes on a moan.

“This is incredible,” she said.

“The best things usually are the ones you don’t expect.”

She gave me a look that told me she understood my innuendo. We ate in silence for a while, listening to the jazz trio play slow and intimate tunes. Even the quietness between us was comfortable instead of boring and awkward like it was with others.

“Tell me something I wouldn’t guess about you,” I said.

She twirled pasta around her fork, pondering. “I wanted to be a teacher when I was little. Elementary school. I used to line up my dolls and teach them math.”

“What changed?”

“Life. Circumstances I suppose. When you grow up, you understand how things work in the real world. A teacher’s salary, unfortunately, wouldn’t be enough to take care of the ones I love.”

“That’s understandable. So what you do now, does?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes.”

I nodded. “What about you?” she asked. “What did little Christian want to be?”

“A chef. I spent every Sunday in my aunt’s kitchen, learning family recipes and dreaming about opening a restaurant.”

“What changed?”

“My father. He thought cooking was for the women. He said it all the time, “Leave that up to the women! You need to use your brain for something more substantial”,” I said, mimicking his voice.

“Do you regret it?”

“Nah… not the career. I love what I do. But I regret letting someone else decide what was worthy of my passion. To be fair, however, my aunts own Soulful, and I believe he felt we had enough cooks in the family.”

“That delicious soul food restaurant on the corner of Delmar and Union?” she asked, her eyes growing wide.

A smile ushered up my face. “Yes, you’ve eaten there?”

“Of course. Who hasn’t?”

“Hmmm, it’s a wonder I hadn’t run into you sooner.”

“Well, we were meant to meet in other ways, Mr. Valentine.”

“Christian. And maybe you’re right.”

“I am.”

We stared at each other, and I bit my bottom lip.

The jazz trio transitioned to a softer melody, and other patrons began to filter out. But neither Naomi nor I made any move to leave.

“This has been...” she started, then stopped.

“What?”

“Unexpected. I don’t usually enjoy the company of my clients this much.”

“Even though it’s your job to enjoy them?”

“There’s a difference between performing enjoyment and actually feeling it.”

“And you feel it tonight?”

She met my eyes directly. “Yes. Tonight I forgot I was performing.”

That meant she’d been her authentic self, and that made me warmer inside. We talked until the staff began stacking chairs and the jazz trio packed up their instruments.

“I want to know so much about you.”

She cracked a smile. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Any and everything.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tethered to you now.”

A single brow rose up her face. “Tethered?”

“Tethered.”

We stared at each other for a long moment, then she chuckled.

“I guess you better ask your question before your time runs out then. It’s getting later by the second.”

“What was the book you read that changed how you saw the world?” I asked.

“ Beloved by Toni Morrison. I resonated with the way she wrote about memory and trauma—how the past lives in our bodies even when we try to forget it.” She paused in thought for a long quiet moment before coming out of her reverie. “What about you?”

“Kitchen Confidential . It sounds ridiculous compared to Toni Morrison, but Bourdain wrote about food the way other people write about love. It made me realize cooking was feeding people, connecting them with culture, soul, and love.”

“That’s poetic.”

“I think so.”

“Where’s the one place you’d go back to if you could?” she asked me.

“Hmmm…” I smiled over at her. “Sicily. I spent a summer there during law school. The food explodes in flavor off your tongue in such a way that you wanted to overindulge, the people are beautiful, cultured, and neighborly. Time moves slower, and you appreciate every moment.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“We should take a trip there.”

“Oh, should we?”

“Yes.”

“First Tuscany, now Sicily. Our vacation index is getting longer.”

I guffawed as she laughed while we stared each other down.

“I don’t mind it. What about you?”

“Do I mind it or what’s the one place I’d go back to if I could?”

“Both.”

She held on to a smile and I loved, a little bit too much, that that smile was because of me.

“Ghana. I went for a friend’s wedding and felt like I was seeing part of myself I didn’t know existed.”

“I can understand that sentiment. Does your family have Ghanaian roots?”

“You would think I had looked into that, but I haven’t so that’s a question I can’t answer.”

“Hmm… Is your family the reason you're so driven?”

“My father served three tours overseas. He came back with a Purple Heart and a spine that barely works. He taught me that if you’re going to do something, you do it with honor. So to answer your question, yes.”

I nodded. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No. I’m an only child.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine being an only child.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“A gazillion.”

Her eyes widened and I laughed. “I’m just kidding, gorgeous. Three brothers that I know of. Papa was a rolling stone.”

Laughter shot from her lips, and she leaned to the side.

“Oh you find that funny?”

“It’s hilarious.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“It’s the truth too.”

“I believe you.” She wiped the tears with a napkin.

“My family is huge, humongous even. I’m surprised he doesn’t have more kids with his profession.”

“Which is what?”

“A comedian. On the scale of a comedian from Comic View but the Kevin Hart in this city.”

“Who is your father?”

“Ron Valentino.”

Laughter burst from her beautiful lips, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh he’s a fool.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t believe that’s your father.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t make the connection during your research.”

“I never told you I researched you.”

“And yet, I know you did.”

Her smile elevated her face and my heart leapt along with my dick.

“What time is it?” Naomi asked, glancing around the nearly empty club.

I checked my watch. “Three in the morning.”

“God, it’s incredibly late. Where did the time go?”

“I have no idea.” I looked at her across the table, this woman had somehow shifted from stranger to fascination in the span of one evening. “It’s three in the morning, and I’m not ready to walk away from you, Naomi.”

Surprise flourished in her eyes. “Well damn, what else could you possible want from me?”

“More.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then crossed her legs and linked her fingers together. “What if I could give you more but not in the way you think?”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m thinking about an arrangement. Something between business and personal.”

My pulse quickened. “What kind of arrangement?”

“Two Wednesdays and one Saturday each month. We meet. No explanations about what we need or why we need it. No expectations beyond what we want in that moment. No complications from the outside world. Sometimes it might be dinner and conversation like tonight. Sometimes it might be more intimate. Sometimes it might just be sitting together in a cozy quiet night. But it’s just us in whatever capacity that means. ”

I stared at her, trying to process what she was offering. “That’s...”

“Crazy?”

“Perfect.”

She smiled—that authentic satisfied smile I’d seen all evening.

“So you’re interested?”

“Naomi, that might be the best proposition I’ve ever received.”

“Good.” She reached into her clutch and pulled out a business card, writing something on the back. “Here’s my personal number. When you want to see me, text me.”

I took the card, our fingers brushing. “When can I text you?”

“Whenever you want.”

“What if I want to text you tomorrow?”

“Then text me tomorrow.”

I stood and helped her with the chair. “This evening has been beautiful, Naomi.”

“I know.” She glanced around the empty establishment. “Give me a minute while I use the ladies room.”

“Sure.”

When she returned, her gorgeousness struck me like it did when I’d first laid eyes on her.

“Jesus, you’re stunning.”

She blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Valentine.”

“What is it going to take for you to call me Christian?”

Tinkling laughter floated from her mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“Hmm, I’m looking forward to that.”

Outside, a black car sat at the curb. “I hope you don’t mind, I called my service car to pick me up.”

“Because you don’t want me at your house?”

“Because I do want you there, and we’re technically still on a business date. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

I chuckled, understanding that once tonight was over, everything between us would be out of the business realm. I walked her to her car, still not ready for the night to end but knowing it had to.

“Thank you,” I said. “For tonight. For the arrangement. For being nothing like what I expected.”

“Thank you for being what I needed without knowing I needed it.”

I leaned down and kissed her cheek, breathing in the scent of her perfume. “Good night, Naomi.”

“Good night, Christian.”

I watched her car drive away, then stood on the sidewalk for several minutes, staring at the card in my hand.