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“It sure is beautiful.” His eyes don’t leave mine and I swallow hard at his obvious double meaning. “Are you ready to order?” he asks, giving me a small chin lift.
“I think so.”
He looks up once more, and with another nod, catches the attention of the ever-so-helpful Lyle again. I hope he didn't get into too much trouble with the table mix-up, but it's unclear who made the mistake in the first place. Not that it matters now. I’m thrilled.
Lyle appears a few moments later. I love how Gray can grab anyone’s attention at the drop of a hat. I wonder if he’s someone important here. He must be. He exudes an unmistakable quality of wealth and importance.
“Ladies first,” he ushers toward me as I glance up at Lyle.
“I’ll have the baby artichoke salad for entrée, please,” I say. “And the Spinach and ricotta ravioli for the main course.”
“Certainly, ma’am.” Lyle jots it down on his pad and glances over to Gray, who’s barely looked at the menu, so goodness knows how he knows what he wants. “Sir?”
“The asparagus salad to start, then the grilled salmon and broccoli.”
“Excellent choice.” Lyle smiles warmly. “I trust the champagne is to your liking?”
“Yes,” we both say simultaneously. That earns me another amused glance from Gray.
“It’s perfect, thank you,” I say to Lyle, as I close the menu and pass it to him. Gray does the same before Lyle leaves us again.
“So, you’re in town on business?” Gray asks, sitting back in his seat, sipping his champagne leisurely.
My eyes flick over his head momentarily to the backdrop of the Brooklyn bridge. The twinkle of lights setting the scene for a beautiful night as darkness rapidly falls.
It makes me forget about all the pressure on my shoulders right now with everything going on in my life. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
My eyes flick back to him. “Yes, business.”
He chuckles. “Not very forthcoming, are you, Hartley?”
I press my lips together at the way he says my name. Why does it feel so distinct from anyone else's way of saying it?
“I just met you,” I remind him.
“Okay, we don’t need to delve into specifics,” he says. “But I think it would be really refreshing if we just talked openly. I mean, fate or something has thrown us together on this spectacular evening, after all.”
I laugh quietly under my breath. “Fate?”
“They say it’s written in the stars, Hartley.” He tilts his head. “That nothing happens by chance.”
I wonder if he enjoys saying my name. “You certainly know how to talk.”
He shrugs. “I’m just telling it like it is. You’re a beautiful woman.”
My eyes flick down to the table, then straight back to him. “Thank you,” I say, at last. I know I’m acting a little coy, but I have to wonder – does he feel the fireworks going on between us, too?
“You’re not one of those women who don’t like compliments, are you?”
I chuckle again, reaching for my champagne. “Nope.” I shake my head. “Definitely not.”
“That’s good then.” And somehow I get the feeling he likes to give praise.
Wouldn’t that be a bad idea… Or maybe it would be a good one? I suddenly imagine myself over his lap and I almost sputter my champagne all over the table.
I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. I blame lack of sex and this gorgeous man in front of me for waking up my libido. So what’s one night throwing caution to the wind? Having dinner with a complete stranger and sharing a bottle of pink champagne together? I don’t see any wrong in it. In fact, I think luck is finally on my side tonight.
I could be in worse places, like back in my office in Boston, with the same boring people I see every day, all competing against one another.
