Pleasure Unbound

It was four days before Christmas, and here I sat at one of the nicest restaurants this side of D. C., across from Roger Falconer.

I’d gone all-out getting dressed this evening in a black knit dress, with heels and hose to boot. Both Cain and Eli had let out low whistles as I came out into the family room to let them know I was taking off.

“Wait a minute,” Cain said, narrowing his eyes. “Isn’t your date picking you up?”NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

I rolled my eyes, leaning over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “No, Dad, we’re meeting at the restaurant,” I replied. “After that debacle with Kenneth, I just couldn’t put you guys through that again until I know if he’s a keeper.”

“Well shit, Paige,” Eli piped up. “Don’t you even know this dude?”

I leaned over and gave him his kiss, and failed miserably in keeping the smile out of it.

“Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I work with him. I told you that. But hell, I didn’t think Kenneth would be such a freakin’ idiot and I knew him from work as well. If we click, I’ll make sure I bring him home for your seals of approval before it gets serious, okay?”

“Well, you definitely look hot, babe,” Cain said, his eyes flickering over me from top to bottom. “Shall we expect you home tonight?”

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the fluttering in my belly whenever Cain got all flirtatious like that with me. It was…unnerving, and yet I enjoyed it.

Eli never seemed to mind it either, which was why I didn’t feel badly about the belly flutters he gave me.

“Yes, I’ll be home. I quit practicing skankery, or haven’t you noticed?”

“We’ve noticed,” they both said at the same time.

“‘Kay, then see you guys later.”

“Be careful,” Cain called out as I hit the door.

I turned back, giving him a smile, watching the intensity that he occasionally threw my way. I think my dating intrigued him for some reason; or maybe it simply bothered him a bit.

“Paige?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, coming out of my thoughts to pay attention to my date. “What were you saying, Roger?”

“I said that I have to be totally vigilant when ordering off of menus. I have quite a few food allergies.”

“Oh really?” I asked, looking up and over at him. “What kinds?” I figured I might as well know what they were, just in case I invited him over for dinner some time.

“Just some of the more common ones,” he replied, giving me a smile. “Fish, including shellfish, poultry meat, nuts, including peanuts, wheat, soy, rice, chocolate and citrus.”

Dayumm…

“Well, I’m sure there’s something here on the menu that you can tolerate,” I replied.

“The thing is,” he continued, “I have to make sure that nothing is made using peanut oil. You’d be surprised how many different recipes call for peanut oil.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, nodding his head. “One time I was at a restaurant in Norfolk, enjoying a dinner salad, when lo and behold, my lips swelled up and my throat started constricting. I was literally gasping for air. It seems that the house dressing was made using peanut oil, unbeknownst to me.”

“Damn,” I said, “What happened?”

“Well, thank God I had my atomizer with me. I never leave home without it,” he replied, tapping the pocket of his jacket. I was okay after a few minutes, but it was a scary few minutes, I can tell you that.”

“I can imagine,” I replied, glancing down at my menu.

“So even with breads and rolls,” he continued, “I have to make sure that they’re gluten-free, on account of my wheat allergies.”

As dinner droned on, so did the conversation.

But at least Roger had interests in things like sports and music, though he said as a child his allergies to dust, ragweed, and certain types of grasses and trees had made it impossible for him to play outdoor sports.

Roger loved to travel, so he talked about some of the places he’d been. I was genuinely impressed when he told me that he had been to fortyeight of the fifty states.

“So, when are you going to close the loop and hit Alaska and Hawaii?” I asked, as I buttered my dinner roll.

“Not in this lifetime, I’m afraid. I have a fear of flying. So my count stops at forty-eight.”

“I see,” I nodded.

Roger went on to talk about his job with the bureau, which was actually kind of interesting. He worked for the BAU as a research technician, tracking trends and movements of serial killings.

“You might know my brother,” I said. “He’s with the BAU, Trace Matthews?”

“Taz?” (My brother’s nickname) “Hell yeah, I know him. He’s a righteous guy for sure.”

Okkaaay.

I could’ve kissed the waiter as he rolled the dessert cart over to our table to see if we wanted to make a selection. There was a gorgeous creme brulee custard that looked big enough for us to share.

“Can you caramelize the topping?” I asked the waiter.

“I have my trusty kitchen torch right here,” he replied with a grin.

“Want to share a creme brulee, Roger?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. I got nothing but a blank stare.

“It’s caramel custard,” I explained, nodding toward the dessert cart, where the waiter was now torching the top of the sugary topping to make it warm, gooey and crunchy at the same time.

“Oh heavens no,” he replied, fanning his face. “You go ahead. I’ve got a horrible phobia about touching anything sticky,” he explained. “I think it goes back to when I was five or six years old, and my twin brother stuck his half-melted caramel apple in my hair at the county fair. My mother damn near scrubbed the hair right off of my scalp.”

Dear God. There’s another one out there like him?

I turned my attention back to the waiter. “No dessert for us. Check please?”

I insisted on paying for my portion of the dinner bill. I didn’t want to give Roger any reason to think that I owed him a good-night kiss, let alone another date-which, by the way, he suggested, and which I politely declined.

I was too embarrassed to return home as early as it was. I didn’t want to have to explain to my guys why the hell I was home at nine-thirty from a date that had started at eight.

I stopped at a neighborhood pub that wasn’t too far from home and ordered a gin and tonic. I nursed it slowly, killing time until I could head home, making it look as if my second random date hadn’t been the complete disaster that it was.

At ten-forty, I paid my tab and headed for home. They had left the front porch light on for me, and I half-expected they’d still be up, even though it was a week night. Cain usually stayed up until midnight. Eli was more regimented in his schedule, being that he got up early for work.

When I came in from the garage, I heard the television going from the family room. I tried to be as quiet as possible, so I could sneak by them without the third degree. I thought I had accomplished just that until I heard Cain’s soft voice from behind me.

“How’d it go tonight, Paige?” he asked.

I whirled around to see that it was just him. Eli must’ve gone to bed.

I walked into the family room, taking my coat off and tossing it over a chair.

“Fortunately, it was nothing memorable,” I replied, plopping down next to him on the sofa. “Because, trust me, I’d just as soon gouge both of my eyes out than remember tonight’s dating disaster.”

“Oh come on,” he said, “It couldn’t have been as bad as the fiasco with Kenneth, right?”

I gave him an eye roll, and proceeded to fill him in on the fine points of my latest date, complete with the list of Roger’s allergies and his phobia of ‘sticky things.’

I’d never seen Cain so entertained and amused. Maybe I’d have to continue going on these dating disasters, if only to see his infectious smile and hear his beautiful laughter more often.

“Did Eli go to bed early, or did you just decide to stay up later to make sure I got home safely?” I asked, using my teasing tone with him.

“Yes and yes,” he deadpanned. “Want to watch a late flick with me?”

God…yes…

“Hmm,” I stalled, glancing up at the clock and seeing it was just a couple of minutes after eleven. “Let me change into my PJ’s, and brush my teeth, then I’ll hang out with you for a bit. No guarantees I’ll stay awake much longer, though. Tomorrow is a work day for me, too.”

I went to my room and changed into a pair of flannel pajamas, threw my robe on over them and brushed my teeth. When I returned, Cain had flipped the channel over to one of their subscribed stations, and some terror flick was on.

He had moved down to the end of the sofa.

“Come on,” he said, patting the long stretch of sofa next to him. “Stretch out and put your feet in my lap. I’ll give you one of my killer foot massages.”

Hot damn.

I did as instructed, and within ten minutes, Cain could’ve asked anything of me and I would’ve complied.

My God!