Free Bound With Pearls by Sidney Bristol Page B

food was even better.
    Typically he preferred hole-in-the-wall joints where the exterior was questionable but the food mouth-watering. If it weren’t for his business partner Neil, he’d never have stepped foot in such a place. It had only taken one time to make him a fan.
    Chris didn’t say anything until they were seated and the maître d’ had left them to their menus.
    Pushing his to the side, he focused first on her. “Do you not like the restaurant?”
    “No. It’s beautiful. This is great. I’m just trying to take it all in,” she said in a rush.
    He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Good.”
    The soft candlelight situated around the dining area did lovely things to her skin. She fit right in with the expensive surroundings. Reaching across the table, he took her hand. He didn’t have to be the Dom here and he didn’t want to be. He wasn’t interested in a slave or a puppet. This was about finding out if their chemistry was real. If it was more than lust.
    His mother would love for him to finally bring a girlfriend home. Besides his senior prom date, he’d never so much as talked about girls with his parents except to state that he was straight, and that had become a necessary conversation when his mother had been approached by a friend’s mother about setting them up. A male friend. Even with being raised to be open-minded, that conversation had stretched his limits.
    “Do you know what you want to order?”
    She nodded. Her thumb rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. “Yeah, their vegetarian menu looks really good.”
    “Good. So you’re twenty-nine, you work in marketing and have a preference for spanking. What else do I know about you?”
    Her cheeks flushed an alluring shade of pink and her gaze lowered to their clasped hands. Clearing her throat, she leaned forward over their table.
    “Well, you know I have a sister. My mother passed away and my father is still alive. He owns a little hardware store now with an old friend. You know I clean when I’m nervous, and I drive my dad’s old Jeep.” She flashed him a charming smile. “What about you? I don’t know anything about you.”
    “I drive an Audi. I forget to pay attention to red lights. I’m thirty-four. And I can’t lose at cards when I try.”
    They both chuckled.
    The waiter returned to take their orders, breaking into the moment.
    “So what do you do?” she asked when they were again alone, or as alone as they could be in a dining room full of people.
    He pushed his chair a quarter of the way around the circular table and threaded their fingers together.
    “I create wearable art.” Her confused expression was typical. Maybe someday he could be recognized as an artist. Until then he’d have to be satisfied with the title of jeweler. “Necklaces, bracelets, earrings.”
    Her eyebrows lifted and her chin tipped up. “So that’s why you don’t like my necklace. You’re a jewelry snob.” Her eyes twinkled under the dim light.
    “You could call me that.” He chuckled and nodded, not above poking fun at himself. He knew he had particular tastes when it came to jewelry. “I prefer to think of myself as an artist.”
    Her lips curled up at the corners. He was used to the skeptical looks. The truth was he didn’t just create pretty pendants or a nice ring. The things he crafted told stories, made statements. There was much more to it than a necklace a woman threw on to wear with her latest gown.
    “Could I go somewhere and buy something you’ve made?”
    “Soon. That’s what I’ve been doing this last year. Up until now, I made everything myself in my workshop. I’m in the process of building a brand and I have a small team of craftsmen who are helping me reproduce the originals to sell to a wider audience.”
    “Wow, how do you even get into something like that?”
    “I was flunking out of college, mostly because I was bored. I did an internship for a major jewelry chain at a corporate office and caught