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Chapter One
Bruno Santana would rather be anywhere else but on this date, at this time, with this woman.
“May I take your plates?” Reuben, the waiter, asked the question.
Bruno nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“Can I interest you in dessert?” The young man rested the dishes on his forearm.
Bruno dropped his cloth napkin on the table. “Just the che?—”
“Oh, I would love dessert!” Teresa, his date, interrupted. “I had my eye on the red velvet cheesecake. I love red velvet cake and cheesecake, and that combination is too enticing to resist. You should try it.” Her eyes were bright and excited.
Normally Bruno loved to see a woman enjoy her food, but he longed for the evening to end. “You know, I?—”
“Or we could share,” Teresa prattled on. “That’s what we’ll do. We’ll share. That’s so romantic. Us sharing cheesecake on our first date.”
No way.
“You should get it to go,” he suggested.
Her mouth fell open, as if he’d made a suggestion worthy of a Nobel Prize.
“What a great idea! Can I have two to go? You don’t mind, do you? My roommate loves that combination, too, and I want to take one for her.”
Bruno forced a smile to his lips. “No, I don’t mind,” he said evenly.
Teresa had ordered appetizers, multiple mixed drinks, and the most expensive dish on the menu. Now she wanted two desserts. He could afford the meal, but was making a good first impression no longer a thing? Not for Teresa and the handful of women he’d taken out in Atlanta, apparently.
He drained his glass of water, listening to her drone on, oblivious he barely participated in the conversation. Objectively, there was nothing wrong with her. She was attractive and physically fit, with a hearty appetite—a characteristic that as a chef he appreciated. She was college educated, having earned a civil engineering degree from Kennesaw State University.
Yet he felt nothing. Nada. No spark.
She kept talking until the waiter returned with the bill and rescued Bruno from the incessant gibberish. He placed the bill beside Bruno’s arm and handed a paper sack to Teresa.
After Bruno paid for the meals, he escorted her toward the exit of the restaurant with a mounting sense of relief. The date was almost over.
As they neared the door, he sent a text to the chauffeur of the hired car to meet them at the front. They didn’t have long to wait before a silver SUV pulled up, and they both climbed in.
Placing her bag of cakes on the floor of the vehicle, Teresa crossed her shapely legs toward Bruno. Her silky black dress, more like a slip with spaghetti straps, rode higher on her thigh.
“I had a really good time tonight,” she purred.
“Good.”
He couldn’t bring himself to lie and say he had enjoyed himself. The goal at this point was to get rid of her as quickly as possible.
When the driver pulled in front of Teresa’s apartment building, Bruno helped her down from the vehicle and escorted her to the front door with her cakes in hand.
“Would you like to come in? My roommate’s spending the night at her boyfriend’s place, which means we’ll have the apartment to ourselves.”
“No, I?—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Mister.” She tapped the middle of his chest with one finger. “Spend the night, and I’ll make my famous French toast for you in the morning.”
Bruno bit down on his molars. Time to wrap this up. “Teresa, I’m sure your French toast is delicious, but I am not interested in your version, nor am I interested in spending the night. This was our first and last date. I wish you the best in finding the right man, but you and I—we are not compatible.”
At first, she seemed stunned speechless, which was amusing, since she’d dominated much of the conversation all night.
