His Naughty Lessons
Chapter 69: He Has No Idea

Chapter 69: He Has No Idea

** Harper **

That was surprises on top of surprises. The suggestive hint hidden behind the joke made Harper want to blush a bit, but at the same time, a different part of her felt giddy at the promise of a brand new adventure.

How could she not be? Vacations didn’t get much better than spreading out in a hammock under a swaying palm tree, strolling along the golden sand, or wading out into the crystal blue waters. Especially while staying at a luxury resort with its own private beach, spa, and probably golf courses or tons of other amenities that she barely knew how to use. Especially when she would be staying at the said luxury resort at the same time with Eli, whose room she was welcome to sneak into at any time ...

Hmm. Maybe she should seize this perfect opportunity to resume her seduction game.

"I say it’s awesome." She propped her chin on one hand and flashed him a sweet smile. "There are so many things I can’t wait to try and add to my inspirations ... Your room must also have the softest bed and biggest bath, right? Can I get some first-hand experience with those too?"

Oh how she loved the way his eyes darkened at the words and bore into her.

Feeling triumphant and satisfied, Harper picked up her fork and poked into the food in front of her. "I should also make sure to include every single item on their menu in my inspiration package," she added. "Got to trust the choices of the best chef I’ve ever known in my life— Mmm, this is good."

She was momentarily sidetracked by the flavor overwhelming her palate. The buttery texture of the seared scallops was so soft that it was almost creamy, spreading the rich aroma of herbs and spices smoothly over her tongue. Yep, all jokes and teases aside, it was an undeniable truth that any restaurant good enough to meet Eli’s standards would simply be out of this world.

"I’ll gladly order the entire menu for you every day if you keep making that face for me." Eli spoke at last, picking up his own scallops. His gaze was still dark.

... What face? Oh, was she unintentionally wearing a "this is so good that I’m having a culinary orgasm" expression?

Harper secretly congratulated herself — apparently she was getting good at this, to be able to put on a seductive show without even trying intentionally. She hid a smile and decided to up the game. Placing the second scallop into her mouth, she closed her lips around the fork, running her tongue down the prongs to lick up the sauce and letting out another "Mmm" of pure delight.

"This cream is mindblowingly delicious," she slurred the words in a mumble.

The waiter came at that perfect moment to check on them. He paused at the look on Eli’s face, then turned to Harper, a slight confusion shadowing his professional smile.

Harper: "..."

Eli: "..."

Waiter: "... Is everything to your liking so far?"

Harper quickly set the fork back down on her plate. Eli ran a hand down his face, and she saw behind his palm a half-smile, half-smirk with so many complicated meanings. "Yes, yes," he said. "Everything is perfect ... The lady here is simply wondering what could possibly make the cream taste so good."

Harper stabbed him with a hard glare.

"Oh, I see." The waiter’s professional smile returned fully. "Our scallops tonight are glazed with jus de veau and drizzled with potato mousseline. One of our chef’s newest creations. I’m glad you enjoyed it."

Eli nodded and exchanged a few more pleasantries with the waiter, praising how layered and full-bodied the flavors were, before the latter left them alone again.

Harper couldn’t bite back a snorting laugh then. "What could possibly make the cream taste so good?" She mimicked Eli’s tone from just a moment ago, and another laughter broke out. Geez, that poor waiter had no idea what his innocent ears actually heard.

Eli leveled her with a crooked smile. "Yep. He has no idea."

~ ~

Having learned her lesson from getting caught in the act, Harper dutifully turned her focus back to the table. She soon discovered — despite her hope to do other things instead — that the full attention was worth it.

Each dish placed in front of them was exquisite. Escargots, tuna tartare, foie gras, each served with colorful embellishments like berry compote or pistachio puree or something she didn’t even know the name of. The waiter dropped by a few more times to explain the various ingredients and cooking methods behind the offerings, and she felt as if her mind was stretched to new horizons every time with striking new knowledge.

"I can’t believe I don’t even know what a tuile or a court bouillon sauce is," she muttered, studying her fourth course when the waiter was out of earshot. "To think that you have probably even made plenty of these things before, being the incredible chef who promised me duck confit last time ..."

Eli chuckled, picking up the tuile leaning against his foie gras. "A tuile is just a baked wafer, nothing special at all. Like I told you, restaurants like this are pretentious, and they prefer calling simple things by fancy names in fancy languages." He took a crunching bite with a nonchalant, unimpressed face.

That expression made Harper smile. "Only you would call anything in such a ridiculously upscale place ’simple’." She considered the delicate dish in front of her and wondered how anyone could not be amazed by such a piece of art, shiny with perfect texture and wafting such an enticing aroma. Then it occurred to her. "Do you come here often? This strikes me as the type of place that would run special VIP services for people like you."

It was meant to be a casual comment, but Eli seemed to have stiffened a little at that. "Well ... I’ve only been back in town for a couple of months, so ... can’t say often, not really." He hesitated for a while before adding, "But I have been here once before, the first week after I moved."

The somewhat strained edge to his voice made Harper curious. She probably shouldn’t be asking, but— "Was it a date?" Oops, the question was out before she could stop it.

Very slowly, Eli nodded.