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She cocked her head. “A man of many words.”
He shrugged, the lopsided grin returning.
“Conversation helps with things like first dates.” She sat forward. “I’ll start. Let me guess, you’re getting a steak?”
He nodded.
The server delivered their drinks. “Ready to order?”
“Steak, medium rare, baked potato and house salad.” Patton handed the menu to their server. He may be hot, but he definitely needed to work on his manners.
“And for the lady?”
Cady smiled up at their server. “I’m not sure—”
“I can come back when you’re ready.” Their server glanced between them.
“No, no. I hate to keep a man waiting.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’ll have what the gentleman’s having.”
“Very good.” The server took their menus, shot her another smile and left.
Patton’s fingers tapped the table—as if he was distracted or restless. She watched the slight narrowing of his eyes, the occasional twitch of his jaw, the thinning of his lips as he assessed each and every person in the room. He surprised her when he said, “If you weren’t ready, you could have said so.”
“Or you could have asked.” She took another sip of her drink.
Patton’s eyes pinned her, the raw intensity in their depths searing her cheeks. His nod was slight, hardly perceptible. His jaw tightened as his entire focus centered on her mouth. She might just be willing to excuse his bad manners.
Who knew a blind date could turn out so...interesting? Bianca had tried to set her up before, determined to help her find Mr. Right. She didn’t get Cady’s satisfaction with Mr. Right Now. And the men she’d set her up with...it never went well. So when Bianca promised this would be her last attempt ever, Cady had agreed. She had no expectations tonight, except dinner. But now...she couldn’t remember ever feeling such a raw, instant attraction to a man. All sorts of tingle-inducing expectations were forming.
Her phone vibrated.
After a month of troubleshooting into the wee hours of the morning, she should have known it was too much to ask for a night to herself. But she’d been saddled with Charles, the boss’s son, who couldn’t go to the bathroom without consulting her first. If she wanted a promotion and all the trappings that came with it, she had to deal with Charles’s crappy program debugs and shoddy work ethic. She pulled her phone from her pocket and sat it on the table. “Excuse me,” she murmured, reading the message.
“Everything okay?”
“Ever feel like you’re the only one that knows what they’re doing?” she asked, answering the text.
“Every day,” he answered.
She paused midtext and glanced at him. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” Was he looking at her hands? Her wrists?
“But necessary—if you want things to get done right,” his voice rumbled.
She ignored the thrill that rumble elicited, hit Send and slid the phone aside. “Exactly.” Maybe they did have something in common...
“Work?” he asked, motioning at her phone with the beer bottle in his hand.
She nodded.
He glanced at his watch. “You keep odd hours?”
“I guess. But my job is time-sensitive, so if I get a text, I answer it.”
“You enjoy that? Being on call?”
She knew he was watching her as she lifted the olive-laden toothpick to her mouth and pulled one off with her teeth. But she didn’t answer until she’d swallowed the olive and taken a sip of her drink. “I enjoy being in charge.” She rested her elbows on the table, fully aware that her sweater slid farther off her shoulder. Fully aware that he was staring at her shoulder. She liked the way his jaw clenched. She liked the way her body tightened, yearning for this man. Her voice was a little husky when she added, “I work hard to keep it that way.”
His gaze slammed into hers, knocking the air from her lungs. He wanted her. From the way he white-knuckled his beer bottle, he wanted her badly. That was very good news.
