Page 30 of Heart Over Heels

The engine roared to life beneath us. When I tightened my grip, Mercer stiffened, and I couldn’t resist a little tease.

“Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to get me all snuggled up to you, Mercy?” I whispered, brushing my lips near his ear. “Quite the compromising position. Imagine if we were naked right now.”

Every muscle in his chest and arms tensed, then he cleared his throat. “How about you tell me where we’re going?”

The restaurant’s awning gleamed like a strip of silk, and the lights above it spilled golden light onto the curb where Mercer eased the Victory to a stop. The valet hurried over, eyes flicking between the bike and its riders.

I dismounted first with my skirt gathered in one hand. Mercer followed, tugging his helmet free with a sweep that mussed the top of his dark hair.

Before he could put the thing away, I turned on him. “Hold still.” I stepped close, tugging the lapel of his jacket flat against his chest, then smoothing a wrinkle along his shoulder. His expression hovered somewhere between startled and indulgent as I finished with a brisk pat to his arm. “There. Now you’re presentable.”

With a flick of my tail, I pranced ahead. Mercer handed off his keys, then closed the gap to me with an unhurried stride that made it seem like he was keeping an eye on me and the entire block at the same time.

He slipped ahead at the last second to get the door, and I rewarded him with a grin of approval as I swept past.

I loved this restaurant. It was a temple to exclusivity with tinted glass windows, polished brass doors, and waitstaff in immaculate black livery. Inside, velvet furnishings basked in candlelight, and the air smelled faintly of saffron. The dining room was full but hushed, every conversation kept to a reverent murmur.

The hostess looked up as we entered, and her eyes brightened with recognition.

“Luxe,” she said, her voice pitched low to match the quiet of the space. “Welcome back. Your usual table is ready.”

Mercer turned toward me with one brow arched. I flashed him another smile then followed the hostess into the velvet-and-gold labyrinth.

The tables here were like miniature stages, each set beneath its own spotlight. The meal unfolded in acts, courses delivered with flair, each more fanciful than the last. No wonder I loved it. It was familiar, and maybe a bit refreshing to sit in the audience instead of commanding it.

When we arrived at our table, I was ready to flounce into my seat. But Mercer swept in again, pulling my chair out and holding it. I peered at him, lips twitching as I sat and let him push me in.

I was starting to wonder, or maybe worry, what he thought was going on here. I didn’t mind the princess treatment. Often, I demanded it, but that was from rich men with nothing better to do than spoil me. This guy, former soldier, ex-angel security, seemed to be handling this casual encounter in a more than casual way.

He sat across from me, and for a moment, we studied each other. At least, I studied him. He had a strong jaw and nose, deep-set, intelligent eyes, and a bit of scruff he must have picked up since his discharge. Beck’s jacket creased and strained as he draped his napkin across his lap and scooted his chair closer to the table. He wasn’t as built as Oz, but he’d definitely seen the inside of a gym.

I had a litany of questions lined up, but with him being so damn polite, it felt like I owed him some small talk first.

“I like your bike,” I offered, leaning my elbow on the table.

“Thanks.”

My grin spread. “Pretty sure riding over here with my cock tucked between your ass cheeks is the closest I’ve ever come to topping.”

Mercer looked like he might choke on air, and that was when our server arrived, smiling sunnily and asking about drinks.

I rescued Mercer before he had to croak out an answer. “We’ll have a bottle of the Château Margaux,” I said. “And the chef’s special. Two of them.”

The server dipped her head and whisked away, leaving us to bask in our private spotlight.

Bending in, I cupped my chin in the hand I had propped on the table and tipped my head at my dinner companion. “What do you think of the club?”

Mercer cleared his throat. “It’s lively.”

I snorted. “And you’re tactful. You can be honest with me. Or…” I dragged a finger across the linen tablecloth. “We can make this interesting. Wanna play a game?”

His lips pinched. Reluctant, and wisely so. “Okay.”

“Two truths and a lie.”

He groaned.

“Are two truths too much for you?” I teased. “Make them all lies then; I won’t know any better.”