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Desiree scooped up the glass. “Thank you. Where to?”
“This way.”
He placed a hand on the small of her back, and she got a little thrill from his touch as he guided her with gentle pressure, winding through the mass of people laughing, talking, and eating.
They were truly in a corner, like he said, tucked away at a little table pushed against the wall with two chairs facing each other. She sat with her back to the window and gazed across the table at him.
Suddenly, she realized she didn’t know his name. “My name is Desiree. What’s yours?”
“I’m Montez.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. His lips were warm and soft and made her inner thighs tingle. “Nice to meet you, Desiree.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
A server came over, a pretty woman with goddess braids and a nose ring. “What can I get for you two this evening?” she asked, pen poised above the notepad.
Desiree placed her order and added water with lemon.
“And for you?” the server asked Montez.
“No dinner for me, but I’ll take an order of the jalapeno poppers, a glass of water, and a Full Moon beer, the lager.”
“Got it. I’ll put your orders in right now and be back with your drinks in a sec.” The young woman disappeared.
“Those poppers must be good,” Desiree teased.
“They are, and I want you to try them.”
“I love spicy food.”
“Yeah? Me too. The spicier the better.”
“Same.” A warm feeling spread through her chest at their common interest.
Montez folded his arms on the wooden table top. “So, what do you do?”
“I work in the marketing department for a clothing store that has locations all over the country. Have you ever heard of Carolina’s Closet?”
His brow briefly furrowed. “I think so. Sounds like a place where my mom shops.”
“Probably. For years they focused on women in their late thirties and older, but in the past year, we’ve been focusing on a younger demographic.”
“Did you have something to do with that?”
“Technically, yes, but actually, no.”
“You know you have to explain that, right?”
She tried not to let bitterness overcome her. “It was my idea to expand into a younger demographic, but a co-worker stole my idea—including the mockup of the marketing materials I created—and took the credit. I fondly call him Ass-Face.” She had almost killed him and to this day wished she hadn’t taken murder off the table.
“Damn.”
“Yeah, it sucked, but I learned my lesson. I have never again shared my ideas, and I keep my computer locked when I’m not sitting in front of it. What about you? What do you do?” Desiree took a sip of her tea.
Montez seemed to hesitate and then said, “Well, I don’t have to worry about anyone stealing my ideas. I’m in marketing, too, for my family’s business.”
She found it interesting that he was also a marketer, but he didn’t provide any more information. He seemed cautious about what he shared with her, and she probably should be the same way.
“What do you do when you’re not working?” Montez asked.
