Hare Today, Bear Tomorrow (Mating Call Dating Agency #1)(17)
From the way his hands slid up her back, she figured that, no, she wasn’t forward as far as he was concerned. She kissed him eagerly, tasting the melted chocolate on his tongue and the faint hint of spicy, leathery cologne that clung to his shirt collar. The two unbuttoned buttons of his collar let her kiss his chin, then his throat. Stacy leaned his head back, smiled, and let out a long, drawling groan.
“This is... exactly what I want to be doing,” he said, effortlessly lifting Garnet up and cradling her in his arms. “But I think we’re supposed to be somewhere. Right when I got here, Eve from Mating Call, er, called. She said to make you look at that note as soon as you got here, but I have no idea what it is.”
Reluctantly, she slid off her bear recliner and tip-toed over to the bed. She grabbed the note, and as she read, her eyes grew about four sizes. “It’s a reservation for Le Chateau. Good lord,” Garnet was getting near hyperventilating. “Is this how Eve always makes sure her matches, well, match?”
“It’s a damn good start,” Stacy said with a chuckle. “But I hope they have bigger portions than the French places I normally go. I’m kind of... well, you know, big.”
“Don’t worry,” Garnet said, slightly breathless. “Given everything else that’s happened so far, I have the feeling that Eve’s thought of damn near everything.”
With his arm around her waist, the two of them made their way out of the hotel and to a waiting car. This, Garnet thought, is going to be one hell of a night to remember, whatever happens.
7
The unlikely pair waltzed through the massive swinging glass doors and into the lush, red-carpet anointed lobby of Le Chateau looking confused, amazed, and slightly embarrassed that they were most definitely underdressed for the restaurant.
A piano player was tinkling away at the keys with an upbeat, but sedate, jazz tune that made Garnet feel warm deep down inside, almost like she had wandered into some kind of lost memory of 1920s Paris. “I sorta expect to see Faulkner and Hemingway sitting at one of these tables with a pile of wine bottles splayed out in front of them.”
Stacy nervously adjusted his jacket’s wrist cuff. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like an alien before. Look at all this stuff.” He turned his head toward a massive chandelier and stared at it, slightly entranced. “If I touched that thing, it would probably shatter and I’d spend the rest of my life paying it off.”
“It is faux crystal,” a soft voice with a decided French accent said, followed with a soft laugh. “The real crystal ones are above. We’d never leave something like that within a child’s possible grip. Too many bad things could happen. I’m Maurice, your waiter for the evening. Come this way.”
The two of the stunned, slightly agape shifters followed the tall, lithe man in the tuxedo through a crowded dining room that was absolutely alive with genteel conversation, clinking glasses, and soft laughter. On the other side, there was a stairwell leading up. “This way, please,” Maurice said, letting the two of them ascend first. “This is our private balcony. From here you can see the town, the sunset, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, a storm boiling up on the horizon.” He went to pull out Garnet’s chair, but Stacy moved past him with surprising agility, and the two men exchanged smiles.
Garnet sat, Stacy sat, and the two of them weren’t quite sure how to take the waiter placing their napkins and pouring their water. They watched like they were observing a different world unfolding around them. “Do we have menus?” Stacy asked when Maurice went to leave.
“Oh, no, sir,” he said with a smile that stretched his thin moustache taut. “We’ve already got your orders. The chef d’cuisine will shortly be coming to meet with you and discuss the selections. What sort of wine would you like to start?”
“Uh, a lot?” Garnet said with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I—”
“I usually drink Coors,” Stacy said. “I know about as much about wine as most normal people know about... I dunno, cracking safes.”
Maurice smiled. “I’ll send our sommelier over too, then. Don’t worry – you’re in good hands. Your friends have made sure you’re going to have the time of your lives.”
“I get the feeling that with this girl? I’d have the time of my life at a McDonalds,” Stacy said, taking Garnet’s hand and smiling to beat the stars.
“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure you could melt a glacier with that tongue of yours.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Stacy said, giving a wink to Maurice, who departed somehow without cracking up.
Two courses, the first buttered bread so fresh from the oven that the butter just sort of slid down it, and the second an escargot plate that both of them happily devoured, was all it took before things started heating up in a way that had nothing to do with garlic or with butter.
“Where do you want to go?” Stacy asked, mouth half-full of bread, although he was polite enough to cover his maw with a napkin. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be? And you can’t say anything about going back in time, that doesn’t count.”
“New York City, circa 1978,” Garnet said with a grin. She swallowed and then helped her food down with a healthy gulp of wine. When Stacy gave her a sharp glance, she relented. “Okay, okay fine. Honestly I don’t know. I’ve never been much of anywhere. Coming up as poor as we were, vacations weren’t much of a thing in my house. I’ve gone around most of these here United States, but I’ve always wanted to see all the rest of the stuff everyone wants to see. Egypt, Transylvania, you know.”