food-and-sex

You don__ like my restaurant, Miss Connor?_ __ couldn__ say since the waiting list to get in is six months long._ One side of his mouth curved up. __his is true._ His finger lingered, and I tried to swallow the nervous lump in my throat. __ think you can call me by my first name now, seeing as how you__e touching my boob. That puts us a little past formality, don__ you think?

The bourbon goes into the recipe, Miss Connor, not into you,_ he__ said from directly behind me. He had a way of doing that, catching me in the act. I suppose the number of times I screwed up made me an easy mark. My spine straightened at the scolding, but my mouth did what it knew best. __ell, that__ just a waste of perfectly good bourbon if you ask me.