Authors: Alexandrea Weis
“Very good.” She bowed once more, backed away from the table, and then scurried to a silver kitchen door across the room.
Trent snapped up his menu. “May I make a recommendation?”
Rayne placed her hand over her menu, which was still on the table, and nodded.
“The eel and avocado sushi roll is excellent here.”
“Eel?” Rayne grimaced. “You eat eel?”
He smirked at her distaste. “Then no eel. How do you feel about salmon?”
“More palatable than eel, definitely.”
“All right, a salmon and avocado roll to start, and then shrimp tempura for the main course. How does that sound?”
Rayne could not help but smile as she eyed the handsome face of the man sitting across from her. It had been a long time since she had been made to feel special in the presence of a member of the opposite sex. It was the little things that had delighted her so far. Opening the door of his 550i BMW for her, taking her elbow as they entered the restaurant, and even locking her front door had all been touches that had thrilled her.
“When Rebecca first told me about you, she indicated that you were her best instructor.” Trent sat back in his seat, putting his menu to the side. “I’m glad to see she wasn’t exaggerating.”
She ran her fingers over the walnut-stained table between them. “How would you know what kind of instructor I am? You haven’t seen me teach a class yet.”
“I, ah, hate to admit it, but I sneaked a peak at your first class this morning.”
“But how?” Rayne furrowed her brow. “I never saw you, and there aren’t a lot of places to hide in the front ring.”
“No, but there were some parents watching, and I kind of blended in with them.”
Annoyed, Rayne folded her arms over her chest. “You blended in, or eavesdropped?”
“Both,” he admitted with a slight nod. “The best way to find out what kind of instructor you are is to listen to the parents of those you teach. If they are happy with you, then their kids are happy with you.”
She could not decide if she should be enraged or inspired by his method.
“All the parents there gave you glowing recommendations. They all agreed that you were firm, patient, encouraging, and had a way with children.”
Rayne shook her head. “I know I should be mad at you for pulling such a stunt, but somehow I’m relieved, like I passed some kind of test.”
“Who said you passed?”
She stared at him, trying to decipher exactly what was going on behind his captivating gray eyes. “Well, I assume if I had not passed, we wouldn’t be here, having dinner together.”
“Why we are having dinner together has nothing to do with your skill as a riding instructor. I want to get to know you outside of the stables, but that doesn’t mean I won’t ride your ass if you’re screwing up with your students.”
She smirked at him. “Gee, and I was just beginning to like you, Mr. Newbury.”
His rumbling chuckle made a few of the other diners look their way.
Bothered by the extra attention, Rayne leaned in closer to the table. “Why are we having dinner together? I thought this was about the stables.”
“Really? And I thought my intentions for you were pretty obvious.”
Her face fell and she shifted uneasily on her bench.
Trent rested his arms on the table, intently observing her. “Why do you always look so scared as soon as I even hint at any intimacy between us?”
Rayne’s eyes flew to his and she pushed down the rise of panic in her throat. “I wish you wouldn’t use that word.”
“What word?”
“Intimacy. It sounds so…personal.”
He broke out in a fit of loud laughter, making Rayne squirm even more.
“Are you always this uncomfortable with men?” Trent probed after his laughter had abated. “You act like you’ve never been with a man.”
“I’ve been with a man,” she obstinately defended. “I just don’t like…discussing such things.”
“By ‘things’ do you mean sex?” His grin widened.
Rayne ran her hands up and down her bare arms, remaining quiet.
Trent paused, taking in her obvious discomfort. “Rayne, I want to ask you something, and I don’t want you to get offended or upset, all right?”
She hesitated, leery about his intentions. “What is it?”
“What was your marriage like?”
“My marriage?”
“Yes.” His eyes stayed locked on her. “How was it? How did Foster treat you?”
She sighed as she mulled over the question. “Okay, I guess. I mean, Foster worked a great deal, and when we did have time together it was usually attending those parties or benefits I told you about. In the beginning, I was kind of disappointed there wasn’t more time for us; after a while, I began to enjoy my time apart from him.”
“Why did you enjoy your time apart?”
She placed her hands on the table. “After the first three years, Foster changed. Nothing big, but it was the little things I began to notice. We didn’t talk as much, he spent more time at home on the phone or watching television, and was always distracted with business. He still bought me anything I wanted, but the personal attention was less. Does that make any sense?”
Trent eased back on his bench. “And the sex?”
Rayne was dumbfounded by the question. Her eyes darted about the restaurant as she tried to come up with some kind of answer.
“Was the sex the same or worse?” he pressed.
“I…I really don’t think that is something…I hardly know you and I—”
“Was it better or worse? That’s all you have to say, Rayne. Usually when a marriage begins to fall apart, the sex is the first thing to go.”
“And how would you know that? Rebecca told me you’ve never been married.” Instantly regretting her words, Rayne closed her eyes as her dread rose.
“That you were discussing my marital status with Rebecca gives me hope that beneath that cool exterior, there is a part of you that finds me attractive.”
Rayne opened her mouth to say something when their diminutive server returned to the table carrying a black tray with two flat white cups, and a blue and white ceramic flask.
“Your raspberry sake.” The dark-eyed woman slid the tray onto the table. “Shall I serve?”
Trent smiled warmly for her. “I will do it, thank you.”
“Are you ready to order?”
He gave the shy woman their dinner order, and after she had made a few notes on a small pad, she backed away from the table.
Trent scooped up the flask of sake. “You get very emotional when you talk about sex, did you know that?”
“I don’t get…why are we even discussing this? It’s none of your business how or why my marriage ended, and what happened between me and Foster in the privacy of our bedroom is…over.”
Trent carefully poured a cup of the pink-colored sake. “So was Foster your first lover?” He put the cup in front of her.
“Jesus!” Rayne almost shouted. Taking in the other patrons, she dropped her voice and added, “What is it with you?”
Trent frowned, appearing perplexed as he filled the other cup with sake. “I’m just trying to understand what happened to your marriage.”
“How can you sit there and pass judgment on me when you’ve never been married?”
He put the flask down on the table with a thud. “That’s the second time you’ve made a comment about me passing judgment on you. Is that what you think I’m doing?” He raised the cup of sake to his lips. “I’m simply trying to find out what makes you tick, Rayne.” He took a sip of his drink. “So why did you ask Rebecca about me?”
Completely befuddled, she seized her drink. “I didn’t ask anything. She volunteered the information and wanted to know what….” At a loss for words, Rayne hastily took a drink of the sake. The strong alcohol burned her mouth and she tried desperately not to choke.
He put his cup down on the table. “Is that why you came to watch me with my class yesterday?”
She gulped down the sake, wishing she had spit it out instead. While her eyes watered and her stomach lurched, Rayne fought to keep any hint of her discomfort from Trent.
“I…ah.” She swallowed hard again as she set her cup on the table. “I wanted to see you in action. I was curious.”
Trent tapped his finger against his white, saucer-like cup. “And what did you think?”
She sucked in a breath, hoping to alleviate the horrid aftertaste the sake had left in her mouth. “You were…very good.”
“Nothing else?”
Rayne shifted in her seat. “What else were you expecting?”
“Forget it.” He shook his head. “Are you always this nervous on a date?”
“Is this a date or an inquisition?” she snapped.
Studying her, he stroked the rim of his sake cup with his long finger. “All right. Why don’t you ask me some questions?”
Rayne’s hand shook as she picked up her sake, deliberating on how to pose the one question that had been eating away at her.
“Why haven’t you ever married?” she eventually got out, and then took a small sip from her cup, relieved to discover that the sake tasted better the second time around.
“It’s not for lack of trying, I assure you. I’ve lived with two women; the last one moved out about a year ago. We had talked about marriage, but….” He pushed his sake cup away. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to get married, but I’ve had a hard time finding the right woman.”
She deposited her cup on the table. “Who’s to say if any of us ever meets the right person? Maybe it’s more about finding someone who fills a void, or fulfills a need.” The welcomed warmth of the alcohol began to flow through her system.
“What kind of void did Foster fill for you?”
Easing back in her seat, she recalled the first time she had met Foster Greer. “He made me feel…happy. Like I was part of something important, kind of like a family.” She rubbed her hands along the thighs of her jeans. “When my father and sister died, I lost that sense of family.”
“What about your mother? Is she still alive?”
Rayne cringed. “Yeah, Estelle is still with me.”
“You almost look like that is a bad thing.”
“If you knew my mother, you would understand.” Wanting to gloss over the topic of her mother, she quickly asked, “What about your family?”
“We’re kind of spread out all over the place.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “My father passed away a few years ago. He was an analyst for a big insurance company in Dallas. My mother relocated to Florida after he died to be with her sister. I have two younger sisters. They’re both married; one lives in Tennessee, the other in Dallas. We get together around the holidays.”
She settled her elbows on the table, transfixed by the warmth in his eyes as he spoke of his family. “Any nieces or nephews?”
“Two nieces and one very spoiled nephew named Cohen. He’s just like my old man, driven as hell. You name it, he becomes perfect at it.”
“Any of them want to ride horses like their uncle?”
“My niece, Heather, rode for a while in Tennessee, but then she discovered ballet. Cohen doesn’t like horses. I think he prefers sports that involve hitting or kicking the hell out of your opponent.”
The alcohol helped to quell Rayne’s jittery nerves. Leaning toward Trent, she fondled her cup of sake. “How did you get into riding?”
“Summer camp, when I was seven,” he answered, watching her fingers play with her cup. “They took us to this stable outside of Dallas every day to ride horses. I fell in love with it and begged my father for lessons, but he believed it wasn’t manly enough. My mother eventually won him over. The first state championship I won, he finally agreed that it was a tough sport.”
“When Rebecca first talked about you, I guessed you were gay.”
“I get that a lot.” His gray eyes flickered with merriment. “But most women eventually figure it out.”
As his eyes swept over the contours of her face, her feet fidgeted underneath the table and Rayne yearned for another sip of sake to calm her, but then decided against it.
“How did you get into riding?” Trent inquired.
“I was—”
“Here is your salmon and avocado roll,” their bashful server cut in as she stood next to their table, balancing a wide black tray.
The petite woman set plates, chopsticks, silverware, and dipping bowls of soy sauce and wasabi on their table. Finally, she put a plate of seaweed-wrapped rolls in the center. Then, she lifted the jug of sake. “Would you like more sake?”
Trent gestured to Rayne. “Do you want more sake?”
Rayne held up her hand. “No, thank you. But could I have a glass of water?”
“Of course,” the dark-eyed waitress replied, and then scampered away.
“Sake not to your liking?” Trent reached for the small bowl of wasabi.
Rayne split her chopsticks apart. “Just trying to keep my wits about me.”
“Why? Think I’ll try something later?”
“No,” she lied, avoiding his leering gaze. “I just don’t like to drink that much.”
“No, you just don’t like to lose control.” Collecting the plate of rolls from the table, he pushed a few onto her plate with his chopsticks. “I don’t think you like to let anyone see the real you.”