Best Dating Rules by Tamie Dearen (story books to read .TXT) 📗

Emily. You look smashing!” Asher Denning slipped into the chair beside her. He had on a tight black t-shirt that accentuated the bulge of his muscles and contrasted with his blond hair. “Have you been here long?” He glanced up, recognizing Grace, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hullo! Grace, my love, you won’t let on to the rest of the class we were here together. Will you, love? Why don’t you sit down and join us? We’re just having a little chin wag.”

Emily’s cheeks were burning, and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. She turned pleading eyes to Grace, whose face was blanched. “Grace, I can explain. But don’t tell Spencer.” She tried to keep her voice low enough Asher couldn’t hear as he waved down a waitress.

“Spencer’s here,” whispered Grace, throwing frantic glances behind her.

“He’s here?” Emily slunk down. “Where?”

“Hey, Grace,” she heard Spencer’s voice. “We’ve got a table over here. Who’re you talking to?”

Spencer’s smiling face appeared over Grace’s shoulder as she spun around quickly and tried to herd him back toward their table. But Spencer stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on Emily. At first he brightened with a smile and opened his mouth to speak to her. But then his face fell as he glanced from her to Asher Denning and back again. She cringed while he took in the low cut of her blouse and the lip-gloss she’d added at the last minute. He nodded his head in her direction.

“Hi, Emily.” His lips pressed firmly together. He turned and began making his way toward the door.

“Wait, Spencer,” called Grace as she tried to catch her brother.

Emily sat in stunned silence. She didn’t get up and chase him out the door. There was no point. What could she say? She really had no defense. She was a worm—lower than a worm—worm excrement. She’d seen the hurt in his eyes, and she knew she was solely responsible for that pain. She’d made up excuses to justify her behavior, but none of it changed the lie she’d told to Spencer.

“Hullo, love. Did Grace leave?”

She swallowed, but couldn’t manage to speak. She struggled to hold back tears as she nodded at Asher.

He flashed her his million dollar smile and leaned forward to put his elbows on the table, his biceps flexing as he moved. “Did I tell you how smashing you look?” he asked with hooded eyes. “What type of bevvy did you get?”

“It’s a mocha.” Emily managed to spit the words out.

“Coffee? Oh yes, I did ask you out for coffee, didn’t I? I hope you don’t mind I got a pint of lager, instead.” The band started playing, and Asher slid his chair closer to Emily’s, turning it to face the band.

The waitress returned with his beer and managed to rub most of her upper body against him while placing it on the table. He rewarded her efforts with a wink, smiling at the astonished expression on Emily’s face. “She’s a friendly sort, that one.”

Emily stiffened when he placed his arm around the back of her chair. But he didn’t actually touch her, so she relaxed and tried to concentrate on the music, asking herself why on earth she’d agreed to come.

As if sensing her uneasiness, he leaned his head in close and said, “You know, you really do have an amazing talent with watercolor. That truly is why I asked you to come.”

She warmed at his praise, but only managed to murmur, “Thanks.”

“I speak truly. I’m well chuffed with your work. Quite extraordinary for your age. How old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“Blinding!” he said with a warm smile. “I’ve found there are plenty of fit girls in New York. But talent—real talent—that’s hard to come by. Finding them together is extraordinary.” He gave her shoulder a casual squeeze and left his hand there.

The hand remained unmoving on her shoulder until the next song was finished and he pulled it down to clap for the band. “Are you enjoying the music? This group has talent and a quarter. Can I buy you another beverage?” he asked as he flagged down the waitress. “How about a glass of wine? You seem like a red wine girl to me.”

“I am,” she admitted. “Sometimes, but not tonight. I’ll stick with coffee.”

Undeterred, he ordered another beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. “You seem a bit stressed. You need a glass of wine, not more coffee. Relax! You’ll suppress your talent if you stay uptight.” He put his arm back around her but his hand never strayed past her shoulder.

When another couple strolled past he haled them to the table. “This is Rachel and Travis, friends of mine, newlyweds actually. They’re both teachers. And this is Emily Best, my most promising student.” He had the grace to add, “I’m afraid I’m not responsible for her talent as she’s only attended a solitary class.” Emily smiled at the friendly-looking couple, but inside she was still tormented over the memory of Spencer’s hurt expression.

“So you’re an artist?” asked Rachel, her bright eyes framed with spirally curls and a genuine smile.

Emily endeavored to control her growing despondency; she couldn’t be rude to such a sweet girl. “No, I’m an accountant, really. Art is a hobby.”

“But she has amazing talent. You should see the things these hands can do.” Asher reached across the table. She watched dispassionately as he lifted her hand to press his lips against it. She realized with shock she felt no tingle whatsoever from his touch, nothing like the sensations she fought against when Spencer touched her.

“How long have you been dating?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, we’re not dating,” Emily protested.

“This is our first date,” Asher corrected, “but hopefully not the last.”

“Well, I hope you’ll be as lucky as we are,” declared Rachel, as she glanced adoringly at her handsome husband who returned the look.”

Watching the happy couple interact only plunged Emily further into dejection. The glass of wine beckoned and she