RC.

Ch7 .. B

Ryan is looking at me attentively.

I smile at him.

T:"What's the matter ?"

R:"Your eyes are glimmering. You're very ... stirring."

Why, is it that in Ryan's mouth, these two short sentences, ring like a thousand lustful bells?

I clear my throat writhing in my chair.

He gently takes his champagne flute and holds it up to me. I quickly do the same.

R:"This evening promises to be delicious ..."

(I provoke him.)

T:"To delight, here and now and that to come ..."

He raises mischievous eyes up at me, and a mutinous smile spreads across his mouth. He knows very well what I am referring to.

I refrain from letting out a moan of pleasure when the sparkling golden liquid trickled down my throat.

I close my eyes for a moment, concentrating on each delicate note of this bubbly wine.

When I open my eyes again, they're immediately captured by Ryan's.

I try to ignore the uncontrollable heat that is rising between my legs as his ashy eyes fix me hungrily.

His sentence comes to mind: "You taste a good wine like you would a beautiful woman ..."

(I look back at him with the same intensity.)

I return his look, passing my tongue very gently over my lower lip and biting it slightly. No matter where we are, there's always this sensual tension between us ...

The waiter comes back, carrying a tray with two small verrines, beautifully presented.

He places the two wonders in front of each of us. My eyes fill with avidity.

Waiter:"A little appetiser before your meal. Crayfish on avocado mousse delicately flavoured with pistachio."

He then turns to Ryan.

Waiter:"Would you like wine with your dinner?"

R:"I leave it to your chef to choose his best bottle that'll enhance tonight's menu."

(One thing's for sure ... I daren't imagine the price of what he calls his best bottle ...)

Waiter:"Very well. Enjoy your meal, madam, sir."

I stare at the verrine, while the waiter walks away. I think I study it from every angle.

Ryan sighs in amusement.

R:"Madam the passionate" is at work."

He lets a smile linger on his lips as he rearranges his cufflinks to straighten the sleeves of his shirt a little.

T:"Oh sorry!... "

I sit there looking a little contrite.

R:"You know that there's no set menu here?"

(Really!)

T:"What do you mean ?"

R:"That's how the chef works. There are seven place settings, prepared with what he finds on the market and his desire of the day ..."

I smile at him. I'm simply over the moon.

T:"I ... I'm very touched that you thought of this restaurant, I know it's not by chance."

R:"I leave nothing to chance, Miss White."

His gaze is so intense that I suddenly feel intimidated.

R:"Plus, I told you already, I also have some knowledge in gastronomy ..."

(He's scored a point.)

T:"I have to admit that I am very pleasantly surprised."

We both take a bite in silence.

T:"Is there anything that makes the great Ryan Carter vibrate, outside of great restaurants, gala evenings and the world of business ...?"

I arch an eyebrow in his direction, smirking.

R:"Without hesitation, your curves."

I almost choke and drop my spoon!

It's Ryan all over. Always and forever provoking!

T:"No, seriously, Ryan ..."

R:"Oh, but I am being serious! ..."

Now I'm sure I'm blushing like a tomato.

R:"I like extreme sports. It's a way I have of connecting with my father."

I gently straighten up, all ears.

(I let him talk, and didn't ask anything.)

When a man like Ryan gives you information about his life, however fleeting it may be, you have to catch it. I let him talk so as to not hinder his confidence.

A whole range of emotions pass through his grey eyes. Difficult to know what's going on inside this beautiful head, so much he makes sure he stays control of everything.

R:"My father died when I was two years old in an accident. He was climbing a glacier and he had a bad fall."

T:"Oh ... I'm sorry ..."

R:"Don't be, I know that right up to the last moment he made the most of every second, I know he died doing what he liked, he was a free man."

(Is this why Ryan's always pushing the boundaries of success a little further?)

For a moment, my heart tightens and a strange feeling comes over me. Was Dad serene too? I mean ... I'd never looked at things that way.

We have more in common than I thought ...

R:"I got to know him with the help of all his old photos and his travel diaries."

I listen eagerly. I picture, for a moment, the young Carter plunged into his father's stories while others are lucky enough to have their dad around.

This thought breaks my heart ...

R:"He was an exceptional man, a fascinating man, one of a few."

T:"You followed in his footsteps then."

He looks at me, a tender smile yet tinted with sadness on his face.

R:"Oh ... I'm a pale imitation."

R:"Success, money ... All the things that one can collects are just pipe dreams. The true freedom of a man is in his heart."

I'm surprised by this hint of nostalgia. Ryan showing himself to be vulnerable? This is a first.

T:"Yet all that you have done and all that you continue to do is also in the hope of helping others. Your father was most probably a free man, but you are a good man."

I address him with gentleness. I think back to that evening where he was serving soup to the homeless. He's not only a rich man, he's also a generous man.

As if he understood the impact of his last words, and the vulnerable position in which it puts him, he straightens up and gives me a beautiful smile.

R:"I have a collection of racing cars, I like the way I feel when I'm driving them ..."

(And there he goes, changes the subject and regains control.)

R:"Ill have to take you for a ride outside the city in my Astone Martin one of these days."

T:"I'd love to."

I'm not a great fan of speed, but the prospect of spending a day with him, far from everything, is reason enough.

Imagining Ryan at the wheel of a powerful car, rushing down highways, makes me feel feverish ...