There'd been a lot of times in my life when I'd felt like an idiot. This being one of those times. Hoping Anton didn't think I was acting like too much of a nut, I slid back into my heels and stood up.
"Far be it from me to stand in the way of time-honored traditions and good business," I said, grabbing my purse before coming around the desk.
Anton had the door open and was waiting. Almost everyone in cubicle city was back from lunch, and just like this morning, whenever I'd looked up from my heap of paperwork, they were watching me.
Staring was perhaps the better word.
"I'll have my cell if anyone needs to get hold of me," Anton announced before closing the door behind us. "Don't worry. They'll get used to you in a few days."
I followed him toward the elevator. "What will they get used to?" I hadn't been aware I was something or someone who required getting used to.
"They're a bit starstruck. It's not every day you get to work in a call center with a girl who's with one of the most talked-about NFL quarterbacks, and one who was just photographed nak-"
He paused as my eyes bulged before narrowing on him. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Shit on a stick.
The whole office had seen that picture? Anton had seen that picture?
A few of those male stares made a bit more sense today. They'd been staring at me like they were seeing me naked because they had, in fact, seen me naked.
Shit.
"You saw it?" It wasn't really a question, but I needed it confirmed.
Anton had the decency to look a little sheepish.
Just then the elevator doors opened.
Saved by the elevator.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked, trying, but failing, not to smirk.
"No," I hissed, crossing my arms. I guess I hadn't thought that picture would span the whole country. I should have known better.
"Don't worry. I didn't look," he said, his voice soft. "I couldn't stop the others from seeing it, but I didn't. I'm sorry that happened." His expression bled sincerity. The first I'd seen from Anton.
The anger rolled right off me. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too," I said as the doors opened on the first floor.
Sensing I didn't want to talk about it more, or finished talking about it himself, Anton waved at someone in passing. "There's this great place right around the corner. Makes everything from scratch every morning. Soups, breads, sandwiches, that kind of thing." He waited for me to go through the revolving door first. "Sound good?" he asked when he joined me out on the sidewalk.
"Sounds good."
It turned out the café was no more than half a block from the office. Even though it was past the height of lunch hour, the place was still bustling. The scent of fresh bread and basil hit me full-on as soon as we made our way inside.
Anton weaved a path to the only open table, waving at a few of the waitresses behind the counter, who blushed almost immediately. As suspected, Anton was a flirt. A certified ladies' man.
We'd barely taken our seats when one of the starry-eyed waitresses was dropping glasses of water in front of us. "Hey, Anton," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear.
I waved my hand in greeting, but I was invisible.
"Hey, angel," he replied. When he looked at her, you would have thought she'd just died and gone to heaven from the dreamy look on her face.
Just as quickly as she'd arrived, she left in the same fashion. Anton obviously rendered most girls speechless. Good things I wasn't most girls.
"Angel?" I said, giving him an unimpressed look. "That's the best you've got?"
He took a sip of his water, the amused expression of his settling on his face. "Are you questioning my game?" he said. "Because I've got more game than I know what to do with."
"Says you and every other male in history," I tossed back. "But for a man who claims to have mad game, that was weak. I think my sixth-grade boyfriend won me over with 'Hey, angel.'"
"Well, Miss Know-it-all"-Anton leaned forward-"Angel happens to be her name." An eyebrow peaked and he waited.
I had nothing. I didn't know anything either. Obviously.
"So . . ." I said, taking a sip of water, "how 'bout this weather?"
Anton laughed, clearly more amused than insulted at my latest bout of know-it-all-itis.
"Why have you, India, and me not gotten together and verbally sparred the night away before?" he said. "We'll have to remedy that."
"It seems we already are," I said, smiling my apology.
"Hey, Anton." Same greeting and moon eyes, different waitress.