All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(13)

“Your offices are beautiful,” she says as the food is delivered. Rather than setting plates in front of us, they dump the food on the table, pass us a mallet, a knife, and a fork, and leave us to our own devices.

“I wonder if they have a bib dress,” she says with a smile. “I think this is going to get messy.”

“Messy food tastes the best,” I reply, and reach for a crab leg, which I smash with the mallet, and immediately spatter us both. “But a bib dress might be a good idea.”

She’s laughing as she reaches for a small piece of corn on the cob and takes a bite. She squirts juice from the corn across the table and it hits me in the face.

“Who knew dinner would turn into a battlefield?” I ask, laughing so hard my stomach muscles start to hurt.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she says, also laughing. She reaches across with her napkin and wipes the juice away. “I’m going to need a shower after this.”

And, just like that, my cock is at full attention.

“How did you get into theater?” I ask, ignoring my dick and willing it to calm the fuck down.

“I don’t even remember,” she says, hammering the hell out of a crab leg. “I’ve always taken dance and music lessons. I’m quite sure my mom put me in them when I was a toddler. I was like a fish in water.” She takes a bite and then gets serious about destroying another leg. “I’ve never had stage fright. In fact, it’s a rush for me. It’s like—” She stops to think about it and then shrugs her slender shoulder. “I don’t know what it’s like. Really good sex, maybe? That euphoric feeling that rushes through you. But rather than just a few seconds, it lasts for a couple of hours when I’m onstage.”

“It’s adrenaline,” I reply, and she nods enthusiastically.

“Yes, absolutely. My mom loved it. She enjoyed the frilly, girly outfits that I’d wear for recitals, and she enjoyed helping my high school with costumes. I think that my mom would have been an amazing fashion designer.

“And my dad was way more reserved.”

“Is that code for he hated it?”

“With a passion,” she replies with a nod. “He was a controlling man. And he was wealthy, but that money came with strings. His thinking was, if I’m paying for college, or anything else, for that matter, you’ll do as I say. But I didn’t want to be a doctor, or a lawyer. I wanted to be a performer.”

“So how did you manage to talk him into it?”

“We agreed on a school in New York, and I went to school while also auditioning, taking dance and voice classes, and working full-time. I decided that I’d do both, and I’d prove to him that I’d make the performing a success.”

I can’t take my eyes off of her. Her animation in the way she moves her hands and face while she talks is hypnotizing. It’s no wonder she’s so successful as a performer.

“Wow, that’s a lot of work for a student.”

“I didn’t care,” she replies before taking a bite of a potato. “I wasn’t interested in anything else. I was a virgin until I was twenty-two because I didn’t give two shits about boys or anything else aside from the work. I graduated with honors and still managed to land roles on Broadway.”

“That’s amazing,” I say. “I’m sure your parents were very proud of you.”

“Mom was ecstatic. Dad was reluctantly tolerant.”

“That sounds harsh.”

She shrugs. “I know. I loved him, very much, but he didn’t make it easy for me to be an adult. He liked to have his thumb on all of us. It’s why my brother rebelled so strongly. My mom . . . she loved him. And she didn’t mind working as a housewife and mother, despite the fact that she could have done so much more.”

“She was fulfilled,” I suggest.

“I think so.” She thinks about it for a moment. “I hope so.” She leans back, patting her flat stomach. “I’m full. You’re going to have to roll me out of here. My apologies.”

I laugh and toss my napkin on the table. “I call uncle too. Are there some of those wet naps over there?”

She searches at the end of the table and comes up with several small packages of the premoistened towelettes so we can wipe our hands mostly clean. Before we take our bibs off, I reach for my phone.

“Do you mind if I take a selfie of us like this?”

“A first-date bib selfie? Doesn’t everyone do that?” She leans in to smile for the photo and then we ditch the bibs and I pay the bill.

“I’d like to pick up dessert on our way back,” I say as I lead her to the car. “I know it feels like I’m trying to cut this short, and I’m definitely not doing that. I’m having a great time.”

“But Gabby is home alone,” she says with a nod. “I get it. I’ve had fun too.”

“Why don’t we pick something up for all three of us, and we can eat it out on my deck and watch the water?” I suggest, earning a wide smile from her.

“I’d like that. I know a place with great pie.”

“Lead the way, my lady.”

She directs me to a little shop that you’d miss if you didn’t already know it was there. When we step inside, the smell of delicious pie greets us.