On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(30)

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She vanished again.

Blake sampled first the vegetables, then the veal, and found they worked beautifully together. A sip of the wine rounded everything off. “I understand why this is your usual.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” Jason grinned. “Also, it won’t weigh us down. Wouldn’t do to go into a carb coma.”

Blake returned the grin. “So you have plans tonight?”

“You could say that.”

“Guess I should go easy myself. No dessert?”

“Let’s not be too extreme. Emily’s got some amazing panna cotta.” Jason quirked his lips. “We could always split one.”

“Sharing desserts?” Blake arched an eyebrow. “This is almost starting to feel like a date.”

“And inviting me to fly a few thousand miles at the drop of a hat so you can show me around New York doesn’t?”

Blake cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. Sorry about—”

“It’s fine. And I am an escort part of the time, you know.” Jason shrugged. “I’ve even done some extended gigs where I belong to one client exclusively for a few days. Sometimes a week or more.”

Blake bristled, but tried not to let it show. Why the hell was he jealous? This was what Jason did, for God’s sake.

Jason held his gaze, and Blake wondered if he could see right through him. He was good at reading him, after all. But then Jason picked up his wineglass and swirled it idly. “If I go back to New York with you, I’d just be your escort the entire time.”

That was how it should be, of course, but somehow it didn’t sound quite as appealing. Then again, if Jason was working rather than taking a vacation, things could heat up considerably. After all, this was someone who was turned on by the ticking of a time clock.

Blake took another bite of the veal. “Do you have a passport?”

“I do. Doesn’t have many stamps in it, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe we can fix that, then. I fly out on Friday. If you’d like to join me, I can book you a ticket.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I still have a valid ESTA from the last time I was in America.”

“ESTA?”

“Yes, some . . .” He waved a hand. “Some bloody pain in the arse bullshit from your Department of Homeland Scare Tactics.” He rolled his eyes. “One more fee, one more piece of paperwork.”

“Sounds like the DHS. But you have one?”

“I do.” Jason sipped his wine. “So to America . . . for how long?”

“That’s negotiable.”

Jason’s grin made Blake’s heart skip. “Everything is negotiable.”

“Maybe I should be asking you how much it’ll cost me.”

“Depends. What will I be doing?”

Blake went for his own wine. “We can check out the touristy spots. And at night, well, I guess that depends on how hard you’re willing to work.”

Jason gulped.

Blake shivered. He really did get off on this, didn’t he? “So. Should I book the ticket?”

“First class?”

“Tell you what—I’ll buy you a standard ticket on the way to the hotel. Depending on how this evening plays out, I’ll upgrade you to first.”

Jason squirmed. “Challenge accepted.”

Nothing like keeping a contractor motivated. But it was more than that—Blake enjoyed Jason’s response, which told him they were back to playing the game, and also that he was scoring points. He didn’t think Jason was faking it to sell anything to him. Very hard to dilate your pupils on purpose.

When they’d finished their meal, Emily showed up again. “Dessert, gentlemen?”

“Panna cotta for both of us, I think.” Jason waited for Blake to nod before confirming with a nod to Emily.

“Any coffees?”

“Espresso for me,” Jason said.

Blake nodded. “Me too.”

Emily eyed them both. “Feel free to disagree about something, you know.”

Blake lifted his hands. “He hasn’t led me wrong so far.”

“Fair,” she said. “And he’s right—the panna cotta is very good.”

Jason clicked his tongue. “So modest.”

“Mm-hmm.” She glared playfully at him. “Somehow I doubt you’re modest about your desserts, either, Jason.”

“Touché,” he muttered into his glass.

She laughed, and left them to their meal.

The door opened and three people came in—one continued right toward the kitchen, shedding a jacket on the way, the two others settled at the table near the window.

“This is usually when her staff shows up.” Jason craned his neck.

“She’s running this place by herself the rest of the time?”

“I’d say at least half the time the place is running her, but don’t be fooled—she likes it that way. She actually downsized from a bigger restaurant because she prefers it that way. If you get her drunk, she’ll confess that her ideal restaurant business is to invite a couple people home and feed them until they can’t leave because they don’t fit through the door.”

Blake laughed and stifled it when Emily appeared with two dessert plates and the coffee.