“Thank you,” Sean says, not taking his eyes off me. His presence still consumes me. He may be sitting a few feet away from me, but I can still feel his touch like an invisible brand that warms my skin and seeps through me. It’s confusing. My brain, the sane part of it anyway, knows that this is a dinner between two old friends. As much as Helen tells me otherwise, surely that is all it can be. It doesn’t matter the effect Sean has on me or my body, or the natural way he can bring out my passive side with a single smoldering stare. It definitely has nothing to do with the fact I’d rather be somewhere less public and more naked with him. No, that has nothing to do with it.
To distract my mind from these befuddling thoughts, I scan my surroundings, falling back on my habit of always being on the job.
Although it’s busy, the restaurant’s atmosphere is warm and welcoming. The worn wooden floors are polished to perfection, and multi-colored pastel draped curtains line the floor to ceiling windows along the street front. Then there are the table dressings. Crisp white tablecloths perfectly pleated with two crystal clear water glasses filled with a rolled, blood-red napkin. Every care has been taken, and the attention to detail is flawless.
“Samantha, would you like me to order some wine?” Sean’s deep voice rumbles through me. I look back over at him, giving him the gentlest of smiles.
“Sure, that would be nice.” He nods and picks up the menu, perusing it with a concentrated frown, only looking up when our waiter stops at his side.
“Would you like to order some drinks?” the young man asks us both.
“Yes, I’d like to order a bottle of the Indaba Sauvignon Blanc, please. And if I could order our meal as well, we’ll have the Messob Sampler.” He closes the menu and places it in the waiter’s outstretched hand.
“Your wine will be brought to your table shortly, sir.” He looks at me briefly, “Madam,” then leaves.
I stare at Sean in shock. In barely a minute he’s ordered our drinks and meal without even stopping to consider that I might want to order something different. There is being a gentleman and asking if he can order on your behalf, then there is steamrolling your dinner date and taking over. Sean is obviously a believer in the second philosophy.
“Did you think that I might want to order something myself?” I ask incredulously, unable to hold back my disbelief.
He looks at me with eyes dancing with amusement. What the f**k is funny with what I just said? “I’m sorry, Samantha. Old habits die hard. You always used to like it when I ordered for the both of us.”
I open my mouth to voice an objection but stop mid gape. Surely he can’t be serious. “Sean, that was ten years ago. People do change you know.” I point a finger at my chest. “For example, me.”
He chuckles and leans back in his seat, still amused at my reaction. “I’ve apologized already, and I’m not going to do it again. If you would like, we’ll change the order when the waiter returns. I simply thought you’d enjoy the choices that the sampler provides. It is a three course dinner with sambussa, messob and dessert. The full Ethiopian dining experience. I was just trying to cover all bases.”
Well, f**k! How can I argue with that? My previously squared shoulders relax as I give up the fight over a stupid dinner order. I don’t know what tonight is about, but I have a feeling from Sean’s confident demeanor that he has everything planned out. He always had to know what was going to happen and when. To put it plainly, he was a hard man to surprise.
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous I guess.”
“Nervous, Sammy?”
My eyes go wide when I hear his pet name for me. Ever since I saw him at the hospital, I have been Samantha. In two days he has made my world shift on its axis with promises of seeing me again, and yesterday’s declaration where he told me in no uncertain terms that he wants to taste, touch and hear me as I come, it has always been Samantha. Shit, is it getting hot in here?
“A bit I guess,” I reply honestly. “But you were always one to keep me on my toes and I’ve realized that is something that hasn’t changed either.” I watch in fascination as his head falls back and roars with laughter, looking more at ease than he has all evening. His laughter dies down to a quiet chuckle as he grins over the table at me. “Shit, I needed that. Thank you.”
I shrug my shoulders but can’t hide the sly smile on my face as I look out the window of the restaurant, trying to appear unaffected by the nothing short of dazzling man across from me. But if I thought I was succeeding, the intense heated stare Sean gives me in response negates that. Thankfully we’re interrupted by the waiter returning with our wine. He uncorks the bottle, pouring a little splash in Sean’s glass before holding it out to him to taste. I watch intently as he lifts the glass to his mouth, pausing to smell the aroma of the wine before parting his lips and tasting the wine. He lowers the glass and locks eyes with me across the table, running his tongue along the inside rim which causing me to squeeze my legs together. I curse the gods for subjecting me to this scene. I’m feeling so hot I’m starting to think I am in Africa.
Dammit! I knew I should have taken the edge off before Sean picked me up. Now I’m sexualizing everything the man does. I mean, he’s just tasting the wine and I’m picturing his lips tasting wine from another vessel … me. He shoots me a sexy knowing smirk. Damn mind reader!
He nods and holds his glass out to the waiter who proceeds to fill it, then shifts to my glass, pouring the cool, pale-yellow liquid before bowing slightly and leaving us alone once more.
Sean picks up his glass and holds it up. “To old friends and new beginnings.” I clink the crystal against his and bring the edge of the glass to my mouth, my senses scattered between the sensory assault of the wine and Sean’s words full of unspoken meaning.
“So tell me what you’ve been up to for the past decade. I was surprised but not shocked when you told me you were a police officer.” He rests his arm of the table, the other hand held close to his chest as he cradles his wine glass. He’s the poster boy for relaxed and carefree right now and it secretly irks me because inside I’m a contradiction of feelings—annoyance to lust, and regret to wonder at the difference a decade can make. He clears his throat, and again I’m brought back to reality.
“Uh, yeah,” I reply with a smile. “After college I needed a change of scenery and had always intended to look at enforcement of some kind. It just happens that the CPD accepted me.”