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Dane leads me to the checkout stand and says something in a language I don't understand to the woman standing there. Shocked, I listen to the two converse back and forth, and then the woman steps from behind the register, grabs a small box from a nearby shelf, and hands it to him. He appears to read the label and nods at her before placing the box on the counter. Dane pays for the medication and slips it into his jacket pocket. I step forward to pay for the condoms, only to have Dane wave me away.
"I paid for yours. It was easier that way since she thought we were together."
"That's not right. I need to pay for the condoms. How much was it?"
"Seriously, it's no big deal. Let's eat. I'm starving." Dane heads to the door and opens it, effectively shutting down the argument that's on the tip of my tongue. He waits for me to catch up.
Minutes later, we're seated at a cozy little table with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth in the back of the restaurant. The waiter hands me a menu I can't read, and I look helplessly at Dane.
"Do you prefer fish, beef, or chicken?" he asks.
"Chicken."
"Then I suggest the chicken paprikash. It's chicken in a paprika sauce with dumplings, which are more like noodles."
"I'll try it." I hand Dane my menu when he reaches for it.
"How about a house white wine? You can't go wrong with Hungarian wine."
"Why not? I'm on a vacation of sorts, so I might as well sample the local food and wine."
Dane orders when the waiter returns to our table, the two conversing in what I have to assume is Hungarian. Finished, he gives me a curious look.
"You'resort ofon vacation? What does that mean, and who are you here with?"
"I'm here by myself." When I see a surprised look flicker across his face, I feel compelled to explain. "Things have been personally rough for me lately, so Katherine—my boss—sent me here to regroup, get pampered, and have fun."
"Your boss sounds a bit unusual. So where is home for you?"
"New York City. How about you? Where do you call home?"
"London. Have you been there?"
"No, I can't say that I have."
"That's a shame. It's an exciting place. So what happened to prompt your boss to send you here?"
"It's a long, ugly story. I'll give you the short version. I found out my boyfriend and best friend were playing house behind my back, which caused my attitude at work to get a little out of hand. Hence, my boss sent me here to get it together."
"Ouch, that's painful. Not being sent here, but the boyfriend and best friend part."
"It was. It is. Strange, I don't know why I even told you that. It must be the glasses of wine I had."
"It's all right. We've all gone through stressful breakups. My girlfriend and I split up earlier this year, not because she cheated, but because she thought I spent too much time at work and didn't pay enough attention to her. In a way, she was right." Dane shrugs his shoulder. "I'm a workaholic. It would be a lie to deny it."
For some odd reason, Dane's admission surprises me. But it also feels weirdly satisfying, knowing his work ethic mirrors mine.
"What kind of work do you do?" Suddenly curious, I study his face. He's so damn gorgeous. Maybe he's a model or an actor or something where his looks are important. I can't quite picture him getting his hands dirty.
"I'm self-employed."
"What kind of business?"
"I'm co-owner of a multinational company in the hospitality sector."
"Like a hotel chain?"
"Something like that. Oh, perfect," Dane says, eyeing our waiter as he returns to our table. "Here's the wine. I think you'll like it. This one is light and fruity."
