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The right way involves me keeping their business because they don’t feel as though I’ve disrespected them. The wrong way would be to just walk off. But if I can’t make the right way work… I might just end up having to try the wrong way, anyway.
Most of the men at the table subtly turn and look in the direction I indicated, chuckling amongst themselves.
“She’s a right looker, and no mistake,” one of them says. “Must be worth a bit, too, if she’s here on her own in a dress like that.”
I have to hide a smile. I know exactly why she’s here alone in a dress like that, and it isn’t because she could actually afford either one of them. But they don’t need to know that.
“Do you mind if I go over and try my luck?” I ask, trying for a cheeky grin.
“If you don’t, I will,” the senior partner jokes. I clench my jaw at that, but nod quickly and smile as if this is all part of the fun. If he even looks in her direction again, I’m going to pull his eyeballs out of their sockets.
I get up, permission having been granted, and take one of the several bottles of wine on the table. It’s an excuse to go over there, even though I don’t need one. I wander across the floor of the restaurant casually, even though everything in me wants to rush over there as fast as possible.
I need to try and get to her before she sees me coming – because otherwise, she might end up giving the whole game away.
Thankfully, she’s absorbed in her food, and, I think, in trying not to catch anyone’s eye. She does seem to be feeling awkward about being alone. I’m right at the table before she looks up and sees me, her eyes lighting up immediately.
“Don’t say anything,” I warn her, right away. “We have to pretend we don’t know each other. The men at the table I just came from think I’m coming over to flirt with you. That’s the only reason I managed to get away.”
Chapter Eight
Candace
Seeing Sean standing by my table makes my heart race – and hearing his words makes it race even more.
Even if he’s only pretending to flirt, I’m here for it all the way. I want to know what it’s like to be courted with by Sean Fogarty, and I’m more than happy to play along.
I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a curious look. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Do we know each other?”
Sean grins, with his back to the table so the men he left can’t see his face. “We don’t, apparently,” he says, getting into the game immediately. “But I brought over a bottle of wine that I thought you might like.” He puts it down on the table, and I look from it to him. I’m more interested in one more than the other.
“And are there any strings attached to this wine?” I ask him. I feel like I’m playing a role – some kind of femme fatale from a movie. In reality, I’m just so grateful for the fact that he made an excuse to come over here. It’s lonely, sitting in a restaurant and eating by yourself. I’m not enjoying it as much as I thought I would.
“Only one,” he says, gesturing to the empty chair opposite me. “That you allow me to join you for our main course.”
I incline my head graciously, with only the hint of a smile. “Then I accept your gift.”
He slides into the chair, and I’m dimly aware of a small noise from the table where he came from. Surprise, mixed with applause. They must have been watching us closely. It’s a good thing I played my part right. I deliberately don’t look over, not wanting to let on that I knew they were there.
“I have to say,” he says. “I like the view much better here than from my other table.”
“You don’t have to keep flirting,” I say, even though I don’t want him to stop. “You’ve already made it to the table. I don’t think they’re going to keep watching for very long.”
“Yeah, well, a guy my age needs all the help he can get to sit opposite a beautiful girl like you,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I’m almost forty. Almost double your age.”
That realization almost takes my breath away. I’d known, of course, that he’s older than me. A lot older than me. He hung out with my Dad. They aren’t the same age, exactly, but they’ve been through a lot of the same milestones in life – except that I don’t know if Sean has ever been married or had children. It never really came up before.
But what else takes my breath away, as Sean flags down a passing waiter and directs him to bring his food to my table from now on, is that I don’t care. Not at all. His age means nothing to me. It’s just a number when all is said and done. And there’s so much more to him than a number.
