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“No. Carrie.”
“Oh yes! Sorry about that. Just follow me.”
He sure is being courteous for someone who works at such a snooty place.
The man leads me into a large outdoor area that seems something out of a dream. It reminds me of Rivendell, where the elves live in the Lord of The Rings books, my favorite book as a child. There are trees, plants and flowers all around, but the centerpiece of the location is a big willow tree, growing right in the center.
Although it’s still early evening, I can see how strategically the dim lights have been placed all around, along with minimal decor. This place must look like a dream at night. So romantic. After leading me through the maze of tables, chairs and plants, the waiter stops at a table where a guest is sitting.
“You!” I can’t help but exclaim.
“Yes, me!”
“You're not Shauna!”
“Would you like me to be Shauna? A dash of red lipstick and a skirt ought to do the job, don’t you think?” David Adams grins. As shocked as I am to be in his presence, I also can’t help but notice how hot he looks in a simple white t-shirt and faded tight jeans. Focus, Carrie! I scream inwards. Remember, you despise him.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” He gets up and pulls out the chair next to him. After a moment of thought, instead of sitting on the chair he pulls out, I sit on the one opposite him. Better to keep distance between us. David shakes his head, smiles and then goes back to his own seat.
“Why are you here? And why is Shauna not?” I ask.
“Because Shauna was never going to be here. She’s out of town.”
“Then why did she call me here?” I’m already getting annoyed.
“She did call your office but she wasn’t the one who you were supposed to meet. I was,” he confesses. What the hell.
“I'm not sure why you’d want to do that, Mr. Adams, as there is nothing we have to discuss.”
“David. Call me David.” He pauses but when I don’t say anything in reply to that, he continues.
“I wanted to…” he starts to say and then interrupts himself. “By the way, did you get the flowers?”
“Yes. I did.”
“And...?” He sits in anticipation.
“And they were nice,” I answer nonchalantly.
“And... and there was a note too.” He gestures with his strong hands.
“Yes,” I remain cold.
“And... you never responded?”
“Was I obligated to?” I shrug my shoulders.
“Not at all,” he says. Then he sits back, exasperated that I’m was not giving him any rope. After a moment’s pause he stares at me right in the eyes, once again setting off that spark that I felt the first time he had looked at me like this. He leans in toward me, his arms resting on the table.
“Look, Carrie. I’m sorry about the way I behaved that day. It was uncalled for,” he says slowly in his baritone voice, in that utterly sexy British accent.
Now was that so hard to say? I almost want to smile but restrain myself. I want him to grovel… but for now this will suffice.
“Okay,” I reply. David Adams, who’s used to having his way with women, is stumped at my answer and lost for a response. Luckily for him, they’re interrupted by the arrival of another man. A man who seems familiar somehow, though I can’t recall how I know him.
“Hey Dazza, you all right, mate?” A tall man, in chef’s clothes catches David in a half-hug.
“Yeah, not bad,” David responds. “You?”
