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“Have dinner with me,” he says, his voice serious and seductive.
All I can do is blink at the sudden change in conversation. It makes me feel like I’m on a rocking boat, and I’m trying to keep it from swaying too much. For whatever reason, I am drawn to him like I have never been drawn to anyone in my life.
“What?” I want to facepalm myself for saying that again to him.
He’s on the verge of chuckling. Gah! He’s so infuriating and intriguing at the same time.
“I think you like the sound of my voice. Is that why you keep asking me to repeat myself?”
“Um . . . no?” I just want to die. Seriously, why did I respond with a question? My cheeks begin to heat again as I get a full megawatt smile, but then he looks confused.
“No, you won’t have dinner with me? Or, no, you don’t like the sound of my voice?”
My brain is on overload, and honestly, at this point, I am not even sure what my no meant. I don’t want this moment to end, but he’s a complete stranger. Didn’t I learn about stranger-danger in school?
He interrupts my thoughts. “Hey, listen, a perfectly crowded restaurant is right over there on the beach. Please join me for dinner, and if you want to leave at any time, you can. Plus, I think you owe me after trying to use me,” he says as he winks at me.
Oh geez. My heart starts to beat faster. I don’t think I could say no even if I tried. My body is obviously refusing to obey my mind. I can picture it now. After saying no, he would start to walk off, only to have me hanging on, not letting him go. There’s only so much humiliation a person can take in a day. “Okay, sure.”
He lets go of my shoulders and rests his hand on the small of my back. That strange feeling is pulsing at the place where he is now touching me, causing an unfamiliar deep ache to grow within me. I have got to get a grip. His effect on me is crazy.
He leads me to a restaurant called The Beach Hut. The place has a thatched roof and is open on all sides. When we arrive at our wooden wicker table, the arm pulling out my chair is toned and defined. Every attribute about him is mouthwatering. My mental swooning has to stay in check before I lose all control. He takes a seat in front of me.
The sun has begun to set behind us, casting magnificent orange and purple rays across the sky. Seagulls are flying circles over the ocean as they try to bring in one last snack for the day. A slight breeze blows from the north, and the smell of mesquite coming from the kitchen fills the air. It’s perfect. A waiter delivers two water glasses.
“So, what should I call the beautiful damsel in distress?”
He takes a sip of water as he watches my every move, making me feel self-conscious.
Beautiful. Did he call me beautiful?
The waiter comes and takes our order. I pick out the first thing on the menu, not even processing what I requested, as this stranger in front of me continues to fry my circuits.
“Alli,” I finally answer him. Alli? What the hell? I never go by Alli. Why did I use the nickname I have fought against my entire life?
I am completely taken off guard. I am drawn to this guy, like a bug is to one of those zapper things. I cross my fingers, hoping that whatever this is doesn’t end up shocking the hell out of me.
I should go. No, I should stay. Wait . . . calm down. I feel like my mind is going in never-ending circles because of this guy. This is crazy. I am crazy.
When he reaches out and touches my hand, my eyes shoot up to his. There’s an undeniable connection between us.
“Don’t go. It’s just dinner,” he says softly.
I look down at our hands and then back into his eyes, and for some unexplained reason, my nerves instantly settle. “Okay.”
He lets out a small breath as he releases my hand, and I immediately miss his touch.
He continues on his quest for information. “What’s your last name?” He looks at me expectantly.
I get the feeling this guy is used to getting what he wants and when he wants it. What could he possibly see in me?
Before I have a chance to answer, our dinner and beers are delivered. It looks like I ordered a burger and fries.
Thinking back to the question I was just asked, I try to answer sincerely. “Can we just have dinner and only exchange first names for now? I need to get to know you a little bit more before I give my last name.” It sounds stupid and naive, but if this guy is a creepy stalker and my intuition has completely evaded me, I’ll feel a tad safer.
/> “Okay, Alli. I’m not trying to make you nervous. I’m Damien.” He sits back in his chair and lifts one of his eyebrows as if he is trying to make a decision.
His white linen shirt paired with khaki shorts are doing wonders for him. His clothing hangs perfectly on his body, accentuating all the right parts. He has quite a calculating temperament.
