Free Love Bytes by Dahlia DeWinters

you’ve been having for lunch.”
    “I eat when I get home,” she said automatically, picking up her knife and fork.
    “Liar,” he said, taking the cover from his own plate. “How many frozen dinners have you been through this week?”
    “I’m not answering that.”
    “Proves my point.”
    Too overwhelmed to eat, she picked up her fork and played with her mashed potatoes. A lump had formed in her throat and she was afraid that even if she did eat, she wouldn’t be able to swallow. He did all this for her?
    “You don’t like it?” he asked again.
    Francis didn’t miss a trick.
    She nodded and scooped a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth. “No,” she said when her mouth cleared. “I love it.”
    Still, he watched her and she stabbed some green beans and shoved those in her mouth.
    “You can have mine, if you don’t like yours.”
    Violet burst out laughing, covering her mouth to avoid spraying half-chewed green beans all over the table. “I don’t eat baby sheep. You’re a terrible person, with your lamb chops.” She shivered in mock disgust. “I should report you to PETA.”
    “You report my lamb chops, I report your fur coat.” He cut the meat, chewed and swallowed with exaggerated relish. “Despite what you tell people, it’s not fake.”
    “My parents bought that for me. It keeps me warm.”
    “You shouldn’t lie, Violet, it’s bad for the soul.”
    She reached for her wine glass and took a large swallow, the alcohol warming her stomach and rising to her face. “Sue me then.”
    His eyes glinted behind his glasses. “I’d rather spank you.”
    Violet flushed, the blood roaring in her ears. She’d rather he’d spank her too. Feeling hot, she looked back down at her plate, at the candles, anywhere but at him. “You’re terrible, Francis,” she managed to say and took another swallow of wine.
    He refilled her glass. “Glad you think so.”
    They ate in silence for a few minutes.
    Violet broke the silence. “Thank you. This is nice.”
    “It follows the rules, doesn’t it?” He dropped the cover on his plate and drained his wine glass. “Keeps it in the office?”
    “Yes,” she said. “It does.”
    “Why the rules, Violet? What are you frightened of?”
    She stared at her plate for a moment, thinking. Then she looked up at him. “Because you and I are business partners. It could turn messy.”
    “Could is a conditional term. If we haven’t been at each others’ throats in the past two trying weeks, I think we could get on pretty well.”
    Violet toyed with the last of the potatoes, drawing a pattern with her fork. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I’ve been through the wringer. I’m a little shy.”
    He smiled a little. “Didn’t stop your curiosity.”
    Violet raised a hand to her face. “Please, don’t bring that up. I was tipsy. God, how embarrassing.”
    “It’s not every day that I’m asked to prove or disprove a rumor about…”
    “Don’t say it.” Her face was hot with shocked embarrassment. “It’s horrible enough to remember.” She giggled a little. “It was a spur of the moment question. If you had been a gentleman, you would have ignored it.”
    This time Francis laughed aloud. “With your hand down the front of my pants?” He shook his head. “Who am I to deprive you of the answer to your question?”
    “Jesus.” Violet tossed her napkin on the table and shook her head. “I must have been out of my mind.”
    “I call it persistent.”
    Before she could speak again, he reached down next to him and placed a long, narrow box on the table. “Bought it for your birthday, but wanted to give it to you now.”
    She didn’t reach for the box. “Liar. You didn’t buy this for my birthday.”
    “Open it.”
    Violet couldn’t take her eyes off the little black box. Francis, what are you doing? He was breaking out of the neat little compartment she was trying to keep him in. A Valentine’s Day gift. She wasn’t going to make it easy for