deference paid to him by the staff. After they were seated at the table, her pack secured safely on the floor between them, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, reaching for his water glass and taking a long draw of the sparkling liquid. No mere tap water for him.
She dragged her gaze from the movement of the muscles in his tanned throat and reached for her own glass, lifting it to her lips.
“It’s amazing. You just take it all for granted, don’t you?” she eventually said.
The look of puzzlement that crossed his face, pulling his heavy dark brows together, was all the answer she needed.
“I don’t follow.”
“They treat you like royalty,” she said with a small laugh. “And you don’t even notice.”
“I’m a regular, and I tip well,” he replied, looking a bit put out.
“It wasn’t a criticism,” she said softly. “I’m sure they respect your patronage.”
It only took a second for her double entendre to hit its mark, whereupon he surprised her by chuckling out loud.
“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”
Isobel shrugged. “I believe in calling a spade a spade, even when it’s a face card.”
“So you gamble?” he probed.
“Only when I know I’m going to win,” she conceded, looking down at her menu rather than meeting his dark-eyed stare across the table.
She thought for a minute of her last assignment. Her photography work gave her a chance to capture and highlight the best in people—and the worst. She was good enough to catch plenty of both, and not everyone was pleased with the results. Her most recent job had turned dangerous when the nation she’d been visiting had politely, but firmly, requested she remove herself from within their borders. It was clear that if she ignored them, their next request would not have been so civil.
On that particular assignment, she’d taken a gamble and she’d thrown in her hand before things got uglier. But she’d be heading back, as soon as she completed her next cookie-cutter job—one of the dull but easy assignments that gave her a measure of financial security. The new catalog shoot would be a walk in the park compared to her usual work and even though it wasn’t as challenging on a social or emotional level as her preferred projects, it would ensure she had sufficient funds to head back to the war-torn country she’d just left to finish what she’d started.
“Do you win often?”
His voice was soft, like velvet, and she felt something deep inside her answer its challenge.
“As often as I can.”
“It’s hardly gambling when it’s a sure thing,” he commented before picking up his menu.
“You can’t blame me for playing it safe.” She nodded toward the printed card in his hands. “What do you recommend?” she asked.
“Everything’s good here but the lamb, in particular, is my favorite.”
“Good. I’ll have that then.”
He closed his menu and put it down. “Just like that? You don’t want another half an hour to peruse your choices and change your mind a half dozen times?”
“Why? Is that what you usually do?” she teased, knowing full well the answer would be an emphatic no.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I prefer not to waste time. I’ll order for us both.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
She watched carefully as he called the waiter over and placed their order, including a bottle of wine. Again the staff showed him that same respect they had before.
“You must tip really well,” she mocked with a laugh. “I swear that guy was about to offer you his firstborn child.”
“Hardly,” Ethan responded drily before realizing that she was still teasing. “Ah, I see, you think it’s fine to bait me? Okay then, I’ll bite. Since you’re clearly not in the habit of bribing waitstaff into providing good service, what do you do with your money?”
“My money?” Isobel pulled a face. “What I don’t use for travel I try to use to
“What’s so funny?” he asked, reaching for his water glass and taking a long draw of the sparkling liquid. No mere tap water for him.
She dragged her gaze from the movement of the muscles in his tanned throat and reached for her own glass, lifting it to her lips.
“It’s amazing. You just take it all for granted, don’t you?” she eventually said.
The look of puzzlement that crossed his face, pulling his heavy dark brows together, was all the answer she needed.
“I don’t follow.”
“They treat you like royalty,” she said with a small laugh. “And you don’t even notice.”
“I’m a regular, and I tip well,” he replied, looking a bit put out.
“It wasn’t a criticism,” she said softly. “I’m sure they respect your patronage.”
It only took a second for her double entendre to hit its mark, whereupon he surprised her by chuckling out loud.
“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”
Isobel shrugged. “I believe in calling a spade a spade, even when it’s a face card.”
“So you gamble?” he probed.
“Only when I know I’m going to win,” she conceded, looking down at her menu rather than meeting his dark-eyed stare across the table.
She thought for a minute of her last assignment. Her photography work gave her a chance to capture and highlight the best in people—and the worst. She was good enough to catch plenty of both, and not everyone was pleased with the results. Her most recent job had turned dangerous when the nation she’d been visiting had politely, but firmly, requested she remove herself from within their borders. It was clear that if she ignored them, their next request would not have been so civil.
On that particular assignment, she’d taken a gamble and she’d thrown in her hand before things got uglier. But she’d be heading back, as soon as she completed her next cookie-cutter job—one of the dull but easy assignments that gave her a measure of financial security. The new catalog shoot would be a walk in the park compared to her usual work and even though it wasn’t as challenging on a social or emotional level as her preferred projects, it would ensure she had sufficient funds to head back to the war-torn country she’d just left to finish what she’d started.
“Do you win often?”
His voice was soft, like velvet, and she felt something deep inside her answer its challenge.
“As often as I can.”
“It’s hardly gambling when it’s a sure thing,” he commented before picking up his menu.
“You can’t blame me for playing it safe.” She nodded toward the printed card in his hands. “What do you recommend?” she asked.
“Everything’s good here but the lamb, in particular, is my favorite.”
“Good. I’ll have that then.”
He closed his menu and put it down. “Just like that? You don’t want another half an hour to peruse your choices and change your mind a half dozen times?”
“Why? Is that what you usually do?” she teased, knowing full well the answer would be an emphatic no.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I prefer not to waste time. I’ll order for us both.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
She watched carefully as he called the waiter over and placed their order, including a bottle of wine. Again the staff showed him that same respect they had before.
“You must tip really well,” she mocked with a laugh. “I swear that guy was about to offer you his firstborn child.”
“Hardly,” Ethan responded drily before realizing that she was still teasing. “Ah, I see, you think it’s fine to bait me? Okay then, I’ll bite. Since you’re clearly not in the habit of bribing waitstaff into providing good service, what do you do with your money?”
“My money?” Isobel pulled a face. “What I don’t use for travel I try to use to
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