Page 39 of Tell Me Your Desires

Chapter Twenty

Jaime tugged at her jacket as she waited for Anya to answer the door, wondering if she should have dressed up a little more.

For the past two days, Jaime had told herself that she wasn’t going to stress about this date.

She’d even told Anya to dress casually since the place they were going was pretty laid-back.

Of course Jaime wanted to make a good impression, but it wasn’t like this was their first time being together.

But it is your first date. The thought had her sweating a little with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

It was silly, really, since the two of them had already seen each other naked.

Yet here she was, second-guessing her faded jeans, black form-fitting tee, and black blazer.

Why couldn’t she get back that confidence she had standing in front of her mirror?

Then, as soon as the door opened, Jaime couldn’t remember a damn thing she’d just been worried about.

Fuck. Casual looked good on Anya. The army green V-neck ribbed sweater complemented Anya’s auburn hair perfectly.

The front of the sweater was tucked into the waistband of dark jeans, showing off a stylish belt that Jaime could imagine herself being tied up with.

“Hey,” Anya smiled curiously at the slight blush on Jaime’s cheeks.

Jaime cleared her throat. “H-hey. You look… incredible.”

“Thank you. So do you.” They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Anya couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Would you like to come in or…?”

“Oh, um.” Jaime seriously considered ditching the plans to go to a restaurant and spend the rest of the night making love to Anya.

However, the purpose of this date was to do the exact opposite of that and actually get to know each other better.

“We should probably get going. The restaurant is pretty remote, but it can get kinda busy during the dinner rush.”

“Okay, let me just grab my purse.”

Jaime’s eyes strayed to Anya’s cleavage as Anya reached for a modest-sized bag that hung on a hook by the door.

She was pleasantly surprised by how small it was.

Jaime was used to Taylor’s enormous purse, which she carried everything in, yet she couldn’t find anything she needed when it came down to it.

Anya was more…practical. Stop comparing, Jaime. They’re two totally different people!

“You drive your unmarked when you’re off duty?

” Anya asked when Jaime opened the passenger door for her.

The interior of the car was filled with the latest and greatest cop toys, including a laptop, a ton of buttons to control the lights and sirens, and a 12-gauge shotgun that sat between the seats.

Jaime could have kicked herself for not at least taking the shotgun out of the car.

She was so used to it being there, it was more like an extension of herself than a piece of equipment.

She knew Taylor hated it and should have known it would make Anya uncomfortable. “Sorry, I can put that in the trunk…”

“Jaime, it’s fine where it is. I’m familiar with police-issued vehicles and their interiors. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you drive yours even when you’re not working.”

Jaime contemplated that statement as she shut Anya’s door and trotted to the driver’s side. She slipped behind the wheel, slightly troubled by Anya’s assessment. She turned in her seat to look at her companion. “Why shouldn’t you be surprised?”

Anya smiled. “It wasn’t an insult. Your job is vital to you. It’s a huge piece of you, and you more than likely feel more at home behind the wheel here than you do at your place.”

Jaime frowned. Anya was… right. Her apartment hadn’t felt like home since Taylor died. In this car, Jaime felt… accomplished. “It took me a while to get back to that feeling after Taylor died,” Jaime said suddenly, then clamped her mouth shut. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about…”

Anya laid a gentle hand on Jaime’s knee. Well, she did the best she could with all the gadgets that were impeding the space. “I want you to talk about Taylor, Jaime. It’s unhealthy for you—and anything that may be between us—to try and deny Taylor wasn’t a major part of you. Of your life.”

“I forget you’re a psychiatrist.”

“A forensic and criminal psychologist,” Anya corrected. “There’s a big difference. But I don’t need to be either to be observant.”

Jaime nodded, filing all that information away and starting the car. The Dodge Charger rumbled to life, and from the corner of her eye, Jaime noticed a small smile form on Anya’s lips. She likes powerful cars. Oh yeah, Jaime filed that away, too.

Anya sniffed the air as they walked into the small restaurant.

She absolutely adored the aroma of garlic bread, and this place had it in spades.

The restaurant itself wasn’t impressive, but it felt…

homey. It was a place you could relax, stuff your face, drink wine, and laugh as loud as you wanted.

On the way here, Jaime had told Anya that it was a family-owned restaurant that had been passed down generation after generation and had defied the odds, remaining open going on its fiftieth year.

Anya watched an older woman bustle out of the kitchen to go up to one of the patrons, slapping him on the back as she placed another plate of food next to the robust man.

She had a feeling everyone who walked through the door was now family, and she could only imagine that the food was as good as the people who put their heart into making it.

“Jaime!” The older woman smiled widely, showing off a couple of missing teeth that did nothing to dim the radiance of that smile. “You finally come back to see Nonna!”

Nonna patted Jaime’s cheeks roughly before kissing them both. She was spouting a string of Italian that Anya didn’t understand a word of, but the sight of Jaime nodding and smiling made it all worthwhile.

“Buona sera, Nonna,” Jaime grinned. “Come sta?”

“Bene, bene! Come, sit!”

The older woman pulled Jaime along, and Jaime reached back for Anya’s hand. Things moved fast in this place. You either kept up or you got left standing at the door wondering what the hell just happened.

“Sit, sit! Ah, bellissima, bellissima!”

Nonna patted Anya’s cheeks much gentler than she did with Jaime, and Anya was extremely grateful for that.

While Nonna didn’t allow Jaime to get close enough to pull out Anya’s chair, Jaime did wait until Anya was seated before sitting herself.

Anya mentally made a check in the ‘pro’ column for that. Polite.

“Who is your friend, young Jaime?”

“Nonna, this is Anya.”

Nonna took Anya’s chin in her hand, examining her like a prized bull. “It’s about time this one settled down after such a tragedy, yes? You will do.”

Anya’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, um…”

“Nonna, could we get a couple of your incredible Negronis, per favore?”

“Francesco! Due Negronis! Sbrigati!” Nonna turned back to Anya and Jaime. “This is a special occasion, si? Nonna will bring you food!”

There was no arguing with Nonna. Mainly because she said what she said and bustled away before either Anya or Jaime could open their mouths.

“You speak Italian,” Anya stated once they were alone and the noise level dissipated enough for them to hear each other without shouting. She purposefully chose to ignore Nonna’s ‘settled down’ remark as it made her skin itch.

“Only a little and only here,” Jaime chuckled. “Nonna has taught me a few words and insists I use them when I’m here. Fact is, I’m a little scared of her, so I do it to keep the peace. Do you drink? I should have asked before I ordered for you.”

“I like a cocktail or two,” Anya smiled. “Is she really your grandmother?”

“Oh, no, no. Which is probably a good thing since she loves to fill me with all the food she can. ‘You’re too skinny, Jaime!’” Jaime mimicked Nonna’s gravelly Italian accent.

“She can be abrasive and persuasive, to say the least. Sorry about that, by the way. I should have warned you she was… something else,” Jaime chuckled.

Anya laughed at Jaime’s playfulness. Another check in the pro column. “She’s fine. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around someone so… animated. Do you come here often?” She rolled her eyes. “That sounded like the cheesiest pick-up line.”

Jaime just smiled. “More so now than I used to. Taylor wasn’t a fan of Italian…” Jaime bit her lip. If she didn’t stop talking about Taylor to the woman she wanted to woo, it would be a very short night and even shorter courting.

The space between Anya’s eyebrows wrinkled as she studied Jaime. “Is it hard for you to talk about Taylor?”

“I…” Jaime was taken aback by Anya’s question.

She hadn’t shied away from saying Taylor’s name, nor did she seem…

upset by the subject. In Jaime’s limited experience after Taylor — which consisted of coffee with precisely one woman who was a colleague — prospective ‘girlfriends’ didn’t like talking about exes.

“Sometimes,” she answered honestly. “There’s a lot there that’s… unanswered.”

“About her death?” Anya asked carefully.

Jaime nodded. “Her killer is still out there.”

“Does that make it hard for you to let her rest?”

Let her rest. Jaime kicked that approach around in her brain for a minute. Was Anya right? Was Jaime confusing the heartbreak of tremendous love and loss with the need for closure?

“Maybe.” Jaime shook her head. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, not talking about my ex.”

Anya reached over and took Jaime’s hand in hers. “Taylor isn’t your ex. You didn’t break up, Jaime. You lost her, and that loss still sits very heavy in your heart. Has there been any leads at all?”

“Nah, it’s a cold case at the moment. Sometimes I pick it back up, hoping to see something I didn’t catch before, but…” Jaime shrugged.