She frowned. "What exactly did Bella tell you about me?"
"Nothing much."
"So how do you know I've been through anything?"
"It's in your eyes."
Oh, hell. He was smart, too. Talk about the total package.
"But I hate to break it to you," he said, making fast but neat work of the nachos, "I don't care if you're annoyed. I want to know what got you interested in that line of work, and you're going to tell me."
"You are arrogant."
"Surprise, surprise." He smiled tightly. "And you're avoiding my question. What got you started in it?"
The answer was her mother's struggle with muscular dystrophy. After seeing what her mom went through, helping other people find ways around their limitations had been a calling. Maybe even a way to work off some guilt at being healthy when her mother had been so compromised.
And then Mary had gotten hit with some serious compromises herself.
Funny, the first thing she'd thought of when she'd been diagnosed was that it wasn't fair. She'd watched her mother do the disease thing, had suffered right alongside. So why was the universe requiring her to know firsthand the kind of pain she'd witnessed? It was right then and there that she'd realized there was no quota on misery for people, no quantifiable threshold that once reached, got you miraculously taken out of the distress pool.
"I never wanted to do anything else," she hedged.
"Then why did you stop?"
"My life changed."
Thankfully, he didn't follow up on that one. "Did you like working with handicapped kids?"
"They're not... they weren't handicapped."
"Sorry," he said, clearly meaning it.
The sincerity in his voice popped the lid off her reserve in a way compliments or smiles never would have.
"They're just different. They experience the world in a different way. Normal is just what's average, it's not necessarily the only way of being, or living - " She stopped, noticing he'd closed his eyes. "Am I boring you?"
His lids lifted slowly. "I love to hear you talk."
Mary swallowed a gasp. His eyes were neon, glowing, iridescent.
Those had to be contacts, she thought. People's eyes just didn't come in that teal color.
"Different doesn't bother you, does it?" he murmured.
"No."
"That's good."
For some reason, she found herself smiling at him.
"I was right," he whispered.
"About what?"
"You're lovely when you smile."
Mary looked away.
"What's the matter?"
"Please don't put on the charm. I'd rather deal with small talk."
"I'm honest, not charming. Just ask my brothers. I'm constantly putting my foot in my mouth."
There were more of him? Boy, that'd be a hell of a family Christmas card. "How many brothers do you have?"
"Five. Now. We lost one." He took a long drink of water, as if he didn't want her to see his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"Thanks. It's still fresh. And I miss him like hell."
The waitress arrived with a heavy tray. When the plates were lined up in front of him and Mary's salad was down on the table, the woman lingered until Hal thanked her pointedly.
He went for the Alfredo first. He sank his fork into the tangle of fettuccine, twisted until a knot of pasta was on the tines, and carried the noodles to his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and added some salt. He tested the strip steak next. Shook on a little pepper. Then he picked up the cheeseburger. It was halfway to his mouth when he frowned and put it back down. He used his fork and knife to take a bite.
He ate like a total gentleman. With an almost dainty air.
Abruptly, he looked at her. "What?"
"Sorry, I, ah..." She picked at her salad. And promptly went back to watching him eat.
"You keep staring at me and I'm going to blush," he drawled.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not. I like your eyes on me."
Mary's body shimmered to life. And she responded with total grace by launching a crouton into her lap.
"So what are you looking at?" he asked.
She used her napkin to dab at the dressing skid on her pants. "Your table manners. They're very good."
"Food is to be savored."
She wondered what else he enjoyed like that Slowly. Thoroughly. God, she could just imagine the kind of love life he had. He'd be amazing in bed. That big body, that golden skin, those long, tapered fingers...
Mary's throat went dry and she made a grab for her glass. "But do you always... eat so much?"
"Actually, the stomach's off. I'm taking it easy." He shook a little more salt on the fettuccine. "So you used to work with autistic children, but now you're at a law firm. What else do you do with your time? Hobbies? Interests?"
"I like to cook."
"Really? I like to eat."
She frowned, trying not to imagine him sitting at her table.
"You're irritated again."
She waved her hand around. "I'm not."
"Yeah, you are. Don't like the idea of cooking something for me, do you?"
His unfettered honesty made her think she could tell him anything and he'd respond with exactly what he thought and felt. Good or bad.
"Hal, do you have any kind of filter between your brain and your mouth?"
"Not really." He finished the Alfredo and moved the plate aside. The steak was up next. "So what about your parents?"
She took a deep breath. "My mother died about four years ago. My father was killed when I was two in a wrong-place-wrong-time kind of thing."
He paused. "That's hard. Losing both of them."
"Yes, it was."
"Both of mine are gone, too. But at least they made it to old age. Do you have sisters? Brothers?"
"No. It was just me and my mother. And now only me."
There was a long silence. "So how do you know John?"
"John... oh, John Matthew? Did Bella tell you about him?"
"After a fashion."
"I don't know him all that well. He just kind of came into my life recently. I think he's a special kid, a kind one, even though I get the sense things haven't been easy for him."
"You know his parents?"
"He told me he doesn't have any."
"You know where he lives?"
"I know the area of town. It's not a very good one."
"Do you want to save him, Mary?"
What an odd question, she thought.
"I don't think he needs to be saved, but I'd like to be his friend. Truthfully, I barely know him. He just showed up at my house one night."
Hal nodded, as if she'd given him an answer he'd wanted.
"How do you know Bella?" she asked.
"Don't you like your salad?"
She looked down her plate. "I'm not hungry."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes."
As soon as he'd finished his burger and fries, he reached over for the small menu by the salt and pepper shakers.
"Is dessert more to your liking?" he asked.
"Not tonight."
"You should eat more."
"I had a big lunch."
"No, you didn't."
Mary crossed her arms over her chest. "How would you know?"
"I can sense your hunger."
She stopped breathing. God, those eyes of his were gleaming again. So blue, so bright, the color endless, like the sea. An ocean to swim in. To drown in. To die in.
"How do you know I'm... hungry?" she said, feeling as if the world were slipping away.
His voice dropped until it was almost a purr. "I'm right, aren't I? So why does it matter how?"
Fortunately, the waitress arrived to pick up the dishes and broke the moment. By the time Hal had ordered an apple crisp, some kind of brownie thing, and a cup of coffee, Mary felt like she was back on the planet.
"So what do you do for a living?" she asked.
"This and that."
"Acting? Modeling?"
He laughed. "No. I may be decorative, but I prefer to be useful."
"And how are you useful?"
"I guess you could say I'm a soldier."
"You're in the military?"
"Kind of."
Well, that would explain the deadly air. The physical confidence. The sharpness in his eyes.
"What branch?" Marines, she thought. Or maybe a SEAL. He was that hard.