Donovan and I walked back to the restaurant. “I won’t be eating that much,” I said as we walked over.
“Why is that?” Donovan asked.
“Because I might want to sleep with you later and I don’t want to be gassy.”
What the hell? Did I just say that out loud?
I looked over at Donovan and tried gauge his reaction to what I said. I still couldn’t believe I’d said that to him.
“I don’t get gassy on a full stomach, I get stronger and I have more endurance.” Donovan gave me a wink. What the hell was I doing? I just basically invited this man to have sex with me tonight!
“I am so sorry for my candor. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“It makes perfect sense to me,” Donovan said in a practical way. “When a man and woman make love, the woman receives most of the thrusting. So, she has a higher likelihood of getting gassy. This is our second date. There’s a chance we will close the deal at the end of the night and you’re just being careful with your meal choice. I like that, actually.” Donovan then gave me a giant, cheesy smile.
“I don’t like that I said it,” I said. “And if you can strike that from the record, Your Honor, I would highly appreciate it.”
“Look, Sahara, we are all animals,” Donovan said as he stopped me about fifty feet away from the restaurant. “We have hungers, attractions, and passions. Don’t be ashamed of wanting more sexually. We all do on some level. The best sex I ever had was when I was in the deepest love.” Donovan shook his head at me and said, “I don’t think I have ever been this open with another human being.”
I took that opportunity to be even more inquisitive about his past. “So, you did see the girl from Italy after the first day you met?” I asked.
“We saw each other five times before she got married.”
“Really?” I said.
Again, that made me sad because I felt I was as open as I usually was. Especially when I was interested in someone, it just showed me how I couldn’t trust anything Donovan had said to me. It might be just a way to get me into bed.
I looked at Donovan in his interesting pirate-type outfit that looked like something Errol Flynn wore, back in the day. He had on a real blousy shirt with baggy pirate pants. Donovan reminded me a little of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. A much better looking, shorter Gaston.
I had listened to Donovan open up and share a memory of his father that was painful. He also told me how much he loved his mother, which I found priceless.
Donovan looked at me and smiled. “Because most people assume I’m not too smart. It helps me out in the modeling world because you get babied everywhere you go when people think you are incapable of making simple decisions. So, most people during my professional day see a caricature that I created. It’s one that I imagine a model to be. Is the caricature me?” Donovan asked himself out loud. “Some of it is. But it’s mainly me trying to overpower the parts of me that make me the most...scared.”
Donovan was speaking so beautifully. Maybe it was because we were feeling an amazing ocean breeze; one that was sweeping in where we were walking, and giving us a gentle romantic nudge.
I leaned forward and initiated a kiss with Donovan. It startled him at first, but he was a slick guy. He was able to get into the kiss very fast.
Once again, it was a sweet, gentle, kiss that made me feel all tingly inside. This kiss was a good five seconds longer than the other times we had kissed. It was...to put as corny as I could...heavenly.
Dammit, Paris, I thought. Your spell is working way too well.
I was fighting my desire to fall for this guy and this wasn’t fair because I’d rather keep talking to him and hearing how he felt about family, life, and other things than to just have one meaningless sexual encounter with him. I have a feeling the second I sleep with him, that is when the spell wears off.
Who would want that? It was bad enough if you sensed regret on a guy after making love, but to know the moment it was coming was a horrible thought.
I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked at the time. “We should walk over to the restaurant,” I said. “They will probably seat us. Our reservation is in 15 minutes.”
“Okay,” Donovan said. Then Donovan did something he had never done before. He held my arm and talked with me as we walked. He wasn’t ashamed of me and I could only imagine what people thought of a male supermodel holding hands with a lady in her thirties dressed way too Goth for her age.
What I noticed was that no one cared or paid attention. This wasn’t high school anymore. We were all adults now. These were people going out and having nice Saturday night. Seriously, who had time to judge?
We went inside the restaurant and I waited for Donovan to check in with the hostess. Instead, he just sat in the waiting section. I don’t know if he even expected me to do it, or he was a little ditsier than I wanted to admit.
I walked back to where he was sitting. “Do you want to let them know that were here and that our reservation is about ten minutes away?” I asked Donovan.
“Didn’t you just do it?” Donovan asked.
“No, I didn’t do that. You are the one who made the reservations.”
“Is that how it works? The person who makes the actual phone call has to be the same person that checks in? I think as long as you know the name...you’re good.”
“What are you saying?” I asked. “You don’t want to get your butt up and check the reservation?”
Donovan looked at me and said, “I really don’t. I would much rather sit back and allow others to do things for me. But, I see how much this irritates you, so I will be the man in this situation and confirm my own reservation.”
The love spell that Donovan was under was obviously making him act and say weird things. I didn’t know how many of these pseudo-dates I could handle.
Donovan got up off his butt and waited in line to talk to the hostess. He was third in line and he got to the front reasonably fast. He smiled and laughed with the hostess within seconds of talking to her. Then he proceeded to talk rather intimately with her. At least, it looked that way from a distance.
Before I knew it, he turned around and waved me over, saying we had a table.
Okay, that was too easy. I wonder what he said to her.
I’m not much of the wondering type. As soon as the hostess seated us at a table by a window that faced the ocean, I wanted to know what Donovan had said to her.
“What did you say to the hostess?” I asked Donovan. I wasn’t messing around.
Donovan started to say something and then he just mumbled and blurted out nonsense that sounded very similar to the squeal that Robert had done the other night. This was really weird. Both of these guys wore the same cologne and had the same quirks? I thought I was going crazy.
“I’m sorry,” Donovan said. “I have no idea what any of that was about.”
“Maybe you got something caught in your throat,” I said, trying to make sense why he would make such a horrid sound.
“Yeah, it was something like that.” Donovan had a funny look on his face and then asked me one more time, “What was the question again?”
“I asked you what you said to the hostess. She seemed very eager to give us one of the nicest window tables in this two-story restaurant.”
Donovan was about to make some weird noises when he said something really fast and I didn’t get every word, but I knew it wasn’t flattering to me.
“Talk to me slowly,” I said to Donovan.
Donovan looked at me and as if he wasn’t giving himself permission to tell me. He was doing so against his will. Donovan took a deep breath and said, “I told her I was on a friend date with my best friend’s older sister and if she seated us quickly, I could take you home after dinner, and come back to get her and we could go for a ride on my motorcycle.”
“Take me home?” I said. “Didn’t I drive you here? Or, were you planning on leaving me here and taking my car to a dealership to buy
a motorcycle? Unless you already have a bike at your house, then I can just take you home.” I was livid.
“No,” Donovan said. “I don’t own a motorcycle. I’m actually a little scared to ride one.”
“But you’re driving up the coast later with Blondie the hostess,” I said, a bit patronizing.
“Do you understand,” Donovan said, his expression very serious, “that I said what I did so she would seat us quicker? She told me they were running one hour behind on their reservations tonight. One of the cooks didn’t show up.”
“Why did you tell her such an elaborate lie just so we could get a table? Is any of what you told the waitress true?” I asked, knowing this answer could sting a little.
“None of it,” Donovan said firmly. “I only said what I said so we could get a good table. I had no intentions of sticking around here and going up the coast on a motorcycle I don’t even own with a woman ten years younger than me.”
“Really?” I asked. “Now I feel sorry for her. You lied to her to get us a table. It wasn’t just a small lie. You made her believe in hope. She saw you and fell for you on sight. It wouldn’t have taken much from you to have gotten us a table. You didn’t have to break a girl’s heart to do so.”
“You’re right,” Donovan said. “Should I tell her the truth?”
I looked at Donovan and said, “It will hurt either way. You’re better off not putting yourself through that. I just feel sorry for her.” I couldn’t believe it was the same girl I was just previously hating.
“I don’t know why I did that,” Donovan said. “Talking bullshit felt good. Not because I liked her, but because it was light and fun. We have been having some doozies of conversations. I was just getting us the best seat I could.
Was he full of shit? He was just as full of shit to the poor hostess. Why should I believe anything he says when he freely admits he lies to others to get what he wants?
What he was saying about trusting me so fast was pulling at my heart strings a little. Just being around him was making me crazy. I needed to talk to Paris. I needed for her to break the spell and if that meant Donovan went bye-bye, then I would be okay with that. But not knowing what is up or down with a guy begins to make a person nuts.
Chapter Twenty-seven