Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

Really? “My name is Jonathan.”
    “Yes. You said that already,” he said with obvious amusement.
    I managed to not sigh audibly. “I only meant—”
    “I know what you meant,” he said, interrupting me. There was a lilting cadence to his voice, which only amplified my perception of him as overly feminine. “Jared led me to believe you would be expecting my call.”
    “He did. I mean, I am. I was .” I stopped short and took a deep breath. I hated being flustered, and I was a little annoyed that he had managed to make me that way so easily. I made myself count to five.
    Ten would have been better, but I had learned that people rarely gave me enough time to make it that far. “Jared did mention a friend in Phoenix,” I said, feeling calmer, “but he never actually told me your name.” And to be honest, that brief exchange between Jared and me, made in a busy Vegas casino more than four weeks ago, had completely slipped my mind.
    “So it’s okay that I’m calling?”
    “Of course. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”
    “You’re at the airport.”
    It wasn’t even a question, and I asked in surprise, “How did you know?”
    “I can hear it. I’m quite familiar with that particular brand of chaos.”
    “Oh,” I said, because I really couldn’t think of an intelligent response. My bag was headed my way again, and I was determined not to miss it this time.
    “Is this a bad time, darling? Are you getting on a plane?”
    “Getting off,” I said. “I just got back into Phoenix.”
    “Perfect timing, then. Are you busy tonight?”
    “Tonight?” I asked in surprise, and my bag rolled past me again.
    “Shit!”

    “Would you like to join me for dinner?” he asked, ignoring my outburst.
    “I… well… I have to unpack, and—” I was stalling, trying to decide if I really had the energy for the conversational gymnastics a blind date would require. It sounded exhausting. On the other hand, the thought of what would probably come after was of course appealing. I hadn’t had time in LA for any type of sexual encounter that involved anything more than my own hand. In fact, I hadn’t had time for anything more gratifying in more than three weeks. Still, there was no guarantee he had the same agenda, and it seemed rude to ask.
    Like he was reading my mind, he said, “Darling, it’s a yes or no question, and it’s only dinner. Let’s leave the rest open for negotiation, shall we?”
    My phone buzzed again. Seven.
    Jesus, what the hell did I have to lose? “That sounds great,” I said.

    THE greater Phoenix area sprawls over more than five hundred square miles. Where other cities build up, we build out. Cole and I were lucky to both live on the north side of the city. He named a restaurant, and I agreed to meet him there at six.
    I wasn’t sure what to expect. This was a friend of Jared’s, and Jared and his partner Matt were both strong and masculine. They were both football-watching, beer-drinking, outdoorsy guys, and my first assumption was that Cole would be cut from the same mold. Just hearing his voice, though, had changed that. Then there was the restaurant. I hadn’t been there before, but I knew it was one of the more expensive establishments in the Scottsdale area.
    I didn’t have enough time after work to drive home and change, although that meant that I arrived at the restaurant early, still wearing the same suit I had been wearing since six o’clock that morning. The only thing that saved me was that in mid-April, Phoenix temperatures were peaking in the seventies rather than the low hundreds. Thank goodness for small favors.

    The restaurant was small, quiet, and incredibly busy. They told me it would be at least forty-five minutes before they had a table for us.
    I decided to wait for Cole in the bar. I was about to order a drink when my phone rang. I halfway expected it to be Cole, calling to say he was running late or wasn’t coming, but it wasn’t. It was my father. My father also lived in Phoenix. He and I weren’t exactly close, but since the death of my mother nine years earlier, we made an effort to stay in touch.
    “Hello, Dad.”
    “Jon! Where in the world are you now?” I was out of town as often as I was in Phoenix, and he seemed to find it amusing to start our conversations with that question.
    “I just got back into Phoenix tonight.”
    “That’s great! How about dinner?”
    “I can’t, Dad. I have…” I hesitated over the sentence.