Page 7 of The Perfect Secret
“I’m glad lunch is finally here.”
“Me too.” His face reddened and he smiled, not holding her gaze for long, but long enough for her to admire his handsome grin. “The morning took much longer than I thought it would.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I thought it was just me.”
He shook his head. “I swear someone snuck into my office last night and slowed all the clocks. Every time I looked, a few minutes had passed, although it felt like longer, and every time the phone rang, I jumped.”
“Why?”
He played with the edges of his menu for a moment, and she wondered what those fingers would feel like on her. When he refocused his gaze on her, her face heated and she took a deep breath. “Restaurant burned down,” he said, “every road in the city closed, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date…I don’t know.”
She leaned forward with a smile. “Look at us. We made it.”
“I’m glad.” He touched her hand for a moment, his fingers strong, and a shiver ran up her arm. His words might betentative, but his touch was warm, strong, and sure. His piercing blue eyes homed in on her and made it impossible to look away. His eyebrows were still dark, unlike his hair, which gave him a foreboding appearance, but when he smiled, his mouth stretched, drawing attention to his soft lips, adding a vulnerability to his features, and making her wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Would his kiss be soft and gentle or sure, in a take-no-prisoners kind of way? What would he taste like? Warmth pooled low in her belly as a desire to find out the answers to those questions blossomed.
They both jumped when the waitress appeared. “Are you ready to order?”
“Sorry, not even close,” Dan said. “So, you said on the phone you’d been here before?” His gaze shifted to the menu and Hannah pulled her hand away.
“Yes, my best friend, Aviva, and I gorged on pasta while celebrating our move to the New York office a couple of months ago. Thanks for trying to find something near me. I hope it’s not too far for you?”
“I like getting out of the office at lunchtime, and it doesn’t happen often. When it does, I don’t worry about how long I’m gone.”
They chose their lunches and placed their orders. When the waitress left, Hannah leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “I meant to ask you how you found me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did, but I was curious since you never asked for my number.”
He made a half-strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a huff, and ran his hand over his short-cropped hair. “You told me your name and you said you were in PR. I found your name on a number of press releases. Then I took a chance you still worked at the same company.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Thank you for the effort.”
He frowned. “Do people not usually make an effort for you?” His gaze was intense. She shifted in her seat. It wasn’t a question she wanted to ponder, much less answer. Her discomfort must have shown on her face because he straightened his shoulders and shook his head. “I’m sorry, it was a personal question. Forget I asked. How long have you worked at Shelby Public Relations?”
Relief at being let off the hook mixed with surprise at his perception, and made her want to answer his original question. “Don’t be sorry. As for working at Shelby? Since I graduated Washington University—first in their Jersey City satellite office, then, as I said, Aviva and I moved to their main office here. They offered me an entry-level job where senior executives mentored me and gave me the chance to work on a variety of projects. I’ve been happy there. Now I’m trying for a promotion so I can get my own client roster.”
He winced. “I probably shouldn’t ask, but how long ago did you graduate college?”
She chuckled. “I graduated five years ago. I’m twenty-seven.”
He pulled at his shirt collar. “Not too bad, I guess. I’m thirty-nine.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Aviva said an age difference isn’t bad now that we’re out of school. Especially if the meeting is organic, like ours was.” But he was older than she’d imagined. Would Aviva say the same if she knew his age? And did it matter?
He covered her hand with his and they sat in silence a moment until the waitress jostled his chair, and he flinched. “Oh, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Here, you ordered the penne a la vodka with chicken.” She placed it in front of Dan and turned to Hannah. “And you ordered the fettucine a la Bolognese. Can I get either of you parmesan?”
They shook their heads and she left them in silence. The silence became awkward, and Hannah didn’t know what to do to make it comfortable again. She didn’t want to ask about his leg and make things worse. She rolled the fettucine around her fork and took a bite, the textures and flavors of the food distracting her for the moment—the al dente pasta, the tart tomato sauce, and the flavorful meat. When she looked across the table again at Dan, she grinned.
Leaning forward, she held out a finger. “You have sauce…right…there.” She wiped it off his cheek, pausing for a moment to notice the rougher texture of his skin against her finger.
His shoulders shook, a deep rumble came from his toes as he laughed. “Guess we’re even now.” He wiped his face with his napkin.
“It appears we’re both equally dangerous. We’ll have to find neater food next time.”
“Yes, we will.” Once again, he squeezed her hand.
Good, there’ll be a next time.
He was off his game this afternoon. If he even had a “game” at all. It’d been so long since he’d been on a date. He didn’t want to mess this up. As for his leg, she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. With luck, she wouldn’t. He’d see when it was time to stand up. In the meantime, a beautiful woman sat across from him. He smiled.
“What’s funny?”