Dare Me. Jo Leigh
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“It’s okay. It really is. Especially now that you’ve called back.”
“Right. About that rain check.”
“Say when.”
She was silent for several beats—enough time for him to realize he’d jumped the gun again. Why couldn’t he wait for the punch line with her?
“Well, actually, I was thinking about Friday night. Except there’s a catch.”
He sat down on the one really comfortable chair in the apartment. The place wasn’t big. A round table and chairs next to a tiny kitchen that wasn’t much more than a cooktop, a dorm fridge, a microwave and a sink. There was also a bathroom—shower only, no tub—and a queen-size bed. The good chair wasn’t huge, just comfortable. “I’m listening,” he said, wondering what the catch could possibly be.
“There’s a thing I need to go to. A banquet, actually. It’s a wine thing, so there’ll be fantastic drinks and food. But it’s formal, so yeah, a tux would help, and there’ll be some speeches, so that won’t be fun. Except when I say there’ll be great wine, I mean it. All the top vineyards send their best stuff.”
“A banquet?”
“Yeah. For the industry. Wine writers. It’s an international association, and people come from all over to attend. I don’t think you’ll be too bored. There’ll be nice people at our table. Really nice people. Like Donna. My editor. She’s the editor in chief of the magazine, and she’s hilarious. She’s completely New York and doesn’t give a damn who likes her or not, so she never holds back. I know she’d like you, too.”
Cam should stop her. He’d already decided to go. Hell, if she’d asked him to accompany her to the moon, he’d have rented an astronaut suit. A tuxedo was nothing.
“It sounds great and the tux isn’t a problem. You just tell me what time and where to show up.”
“Really?’
He grinned and stretched out in his chair, putting his free hand behind his head. “Really. So, is this a mandatory work thing, or is this something you like doing?”
“I’m always amazed I get to go, although they usually charge for a place at the table.”
“What’s unusual about this time?”
She cleared her throat, although it was muted, as if she’d moved the phone away from her mouth. “Well, I’m getting an award.”
“No kidding? What for?”
“Emerging wine writer of the year.” He could picture her so easily, the way she’d look down, then back up at him through her lashes.
Now he was even more pleased that he’d said yes. “That’s very impressive. I imagine there was a lot of competition for that award. I’m going to have to read all of your columns now. I only sampled a few, but they were excellent. Huh. It’ll be like going to the Oscars with Jennifer Lawrence.”
She laughed. “It’s so not. Not by a mile.”
“You can have your fantasies and I’ll have mine. At the very least, I’ll be with the prettiest woman there.”
“You make me blush. But I’ll give you a hint. You don’t have to do that.”
“What?”
“Compliment me so lavishly.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I mean what I say.”
“Right.”
“Next time you see Emmy, you ask her what I’m like. I’m not prone to exaggeration. Honest to a fault, and I mean that literally. I say too much, too often. Probably because I had four older sisters to compete with. But how come you know you’ve won? Aren’t these things supposed to be a surprise?”
“Not really. Some of the recipients live far away, so they let them know in advance.”
“I wish they’d do that in beer competitions, but I suppose they can’t. I hate the nerves that come before they announce the winners.”
“I really want to talk to you about beer,” she said. “I want to know about the brewing processes and the subculture and what the politics are like.”
It was clear she meant it, and he loved that she was interested, although it was such a huge topic that he had no idea where to start. “But I can’t. Not right now. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes. I sort of planned it this way. I wanted an excuse to end the conversation quickly in case you said no.”
“You could have made something up,” he said, wishing she didn’t have a meeting.
“I’m honest to a fault, too. Although not as a statement or a philosophy. I’m just a lousy liar.”
“Another reason to look forward to Friday night.”
She sighed, and he wanted to kiss her. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
“Great.” After the call ended, he thought about what Emmy had said and wondered what it was about Molly that had him so wound up. Probably the fact that she didn’t want a relationship. He’d hated those family setups. The only thing he was looking for while he was in Queens was a good time. No strings, no complications. Luckily, that appeared to be all that Molly wanted, as well.
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