“Genevieve,” Gavin said, annoyed, but Jessica just kept talking.
“I’ve sent him a message. I’m sure by the time we’ve finished dinner he’ll have checked his schedule. Do you make it to New York often? That’s where he is most of the time now.”
“I do,” Genevieve nodded like an excited puppy who’d been shown her leash.
“Genevieve,” Gavin repeated, now sounding completely put out.
“Oh be quiet, Gavin,” Genevieve sniped. “James West isn’t the only man at West Oil you can make a deal with, I’m sure. If he sent Mathew then he had full confidence in him. Now I’m starving. Jessica, the lamb here is heavenly. You must try it.”
“I’ve heard that.” Jessica nodded agreeably as Gavin took his wife’s arm and led her toward the table. Jessica tucked her arm under Mathew’s and tugged his shocked body forward.
“Sometimes this dumb makeup artist can read a crowd,” she whispered, absolutely loving the surprise painting his face. It never meant much to Jessica to be liked, but knowing she’d impressed Mathew sat in her like a warm mug of cocoa on a cold morning.
“Nice,” he finally came up with as he glanced down at her and smiled. If she’d missed it before, it was clear now. There was a lusty desire in his muddy dark eyes. Any banter, any arguing, was no more than foreplay. “Now let’s hope Gavin gets rid of the hair across his ass and hears me out so I don’t feel like knocking his butt to the ground.”
“What the hell does that mean? A hair across his ass?” Jessica’s laugh came out with a snort, and she struggled to compose herself.
“I don’t know the exact origin,” Mathew snickered. “It means a bug up your butt, what would you Southerners say? A bee in your bonnet?”
“Boy, you Yankees are poetic. Thanks for that mental image of Gavin’s ass. But don’t worry, I’ll work on him,” Jessica offered, squeezing her arm tighter around Mathew’s firm bicep, her breast pushing teasingly against him.
“I’m not sure he’ll care much about the latest fashions. He has a belt buckle with the state flag on it and snakeskin boots.”
“There is more to me than you could ever imagine,” Jessica promised as the rush of excitement pulsed through her. She’d always enjoyed being right, proving herself, but this was something more. His stare lit a tiny fuse. She couldn’t tell if the trail made its way to her heart or her pleasure points, but there was a slow burn all the same.
As they took their seats at the table, Jessica made sure to take a spot next to Gavin, asking if he minded her hanging her bag on the back of the chair and touching his shoulder as she did. He grumbled that it didn’t matter and flagged down the first person who looked like they may be qualified to bring him a drink.
“Scotch,” he barked. “Something old. Neat.”
“I’ll do a glass of white wine,” Genevieve said in a high and pleasant voice as she pointed at the wine list. “This one here.”
“I’ll take a glass of red,” Mathew said, gesturing toward the spot on the menu.
“That Scotch sounds appealing. I’ll have what he’s having,” Jessica announced confidently.
“You like Scotch?” Gavin asked skeptically as the waiter disappeared.
“A client of mine once gave me a bottle of Loch Stillon. It’s from a tiny brewery in Scotland. They only make about three hundred bottles a year. It was the first time I’d ever tasted Scotch, and I’ve spent the last three years chasing that bottle like it’s a unicorn. No other drink of any kind has ever come close to it for me.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Gavin replied, sitting up a little straighter. “Isn’t there a decade long waiting list for it?”
“There is,” Jessica beamed. “But I swear it’s worth the wait. Get your name on that list if you can. I’ve heard it described like a fine woman: it’ll ruin you from ever wanting anything else, but it’s completely worth the trouble.”
“Write that down will you, Genny?” Gavin asked his wife hurriedly. “I want to get on that list.”
“Yes dear,” Genevieve replied, jotting a note down in her phone. “Now tell me again Jessica, how do you know Cal Vance Winterstorm?”
“You can’t tell him this,” Jessica exaggerated as she leaned in across the table and tapped Genevieve’s hand lightly, “but he got in a fight with one of the other designers at a photo-shoot, and I had to cover up his black eye and be his alibi. Oh, I can’t believe I just told you that. He’d kill me if it ever got out.”
Genevieve put her delicate fingers to her lips and made a locking gesture to indicate the secret was safe with her. The fight was actually common knowledge, far from a hush-hush moment worth hiding, but Jessica knew she was spending valued currency right now—secrets.
“Do you remember that day?” she asked, turning toward Mathew whose face danced between confusion and relief.
“Crazy,” he said, nodding his head.
“That was around the time all that history came out about West Oil right? What a nightmare it’s been, but I’m telling you if anyone can get through it, it’ll be you and James.” She reached up and squeezed the tense muscles of his shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Half the battle is having a good woman with you,” Gavin said, his demeanor changing slowly, as though he’d accidently forgotten to be mad for a moment. “Genevieve has been by my side for every up and down, and God knows this industry is full of them. You guys got your stuff together over there now at West Oil?”
Mathew cleared his throat and nodded. “All investigations have been closed, finding James clear of any wrongdoing. We’ve implemented a plan to reduce the recordable rate by fifty percent, and right now we’re working on a partnership that will make drilling safer than it’s ever been. Our projections are—” Jessica slammed her heel into his toe under the table, hoping he got the point. “Well,” he righted himself, “our projections speak for themselves. Give us a chance, and we’ll save you money and provide you with a better product than you’ve ever had before. We’re heading toward technology of the future.”
“Good, good,” Gavin said, hardly listening as his drink was delivered. “This is a great Scotch, I’d love to hear how you think it compares.” His eyes were locked on Jessica’s glass filled with the amber liquor.
She took a small sip and held it in her mouth for a moment. “It’s got a good amount of heat. A pretty complex finish.” She took another drag for effect. “It’s very good.”
“But it’s no Loch Stillon.” Gavin sighed, looking now at his glass like it was swill.
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground to see if I hear anything about another bottle floating around.” Jessica rolled the liquid around in her glass one more time before sipping back the last of it.
“Great,” Gavin said, slapping her hand that lay on the table. “Now son, you were saying West Oil’s got big things coming up. Tell me more.”
As Mathew began to speak, Jessica felt his leg brush hers. Maybe it was just a natural shift, him getting more comfortable. But his firm muscular thigh stayed pressed against hers. Placing her glass down, she slid her hand below the bright white tablecloth and rested it on his knee. Just a show of support. That’s what she was telling herself. Nothing more. Because more would lead to disaster.