He moved towards the table. “Thank you.” Then he looked around. “No Sam today?”
“No.” I was worried about him. He did miss the occasional day, but after what had happened yesterday I was worried. But I wasn’t going to get into conversation about it. “Coffee?”
His eyebrow went up a fraction. “Yes, please.”
I nodded and went to take the tray back to the kitchen and collect a coffee for him. My mind pictured him. His hair was dark, but there were just a few strands of gray at his temples. He looked very distinguished and I found his faint English accent really sexy. I plonked the tray down by the sink, scowling. Why the hell was he having this sort of effect on me? I didn’t have time to go out with men. I was too tired in the evenings, too grungy from my hellhole of a room. I never felt particularly attractive, and although I found a lot of men hot, I’d never felt this way before. I wondered why he’d come back. Even I knew that the coffee was foul and the setting awful. It was only okay if it was all you could afford. He didn’t fit into that category.
I took his coffee over with a plate of cookies. “You paid too much yesterday. Cookies on the house.” I smiled uncertainly at him.
He looked up at me, a slight smile on his face. “Thank you. Did I hear the owner calling you Toni yesterday?”
“Yes.” I waited a moment.
“I was hoping during your break you’d be able to come and sit here.” He paused. “I want to talk to you.”
I stared at him. “Talk to me?” Then my mind caught on what he’d said. “I don’t get a break here. Thought you’d notice there’s no one else to wait tables.”
His lips tightened slightly. “I see.” He looked around. Marco was watching us from the hatch in the kitchen. The man nodded. “Then bring me another coffee in five minutes please.” He looked away and pulled out his phone.
I shrugged and carried on with my job. When I took his next coffee over, he put his hand out and covered mine. He glanced back. Marco wasn’t looking. He looked up at my face. “I do need to talk to you. If you can’t talk here, then will you come out to dinner with me? I need to apologize to you for not intervening when the owner was having a go at you yesterday. And there’s something else I want to discuss with you. I can’t do that here.”
I stood and gaped at him. “Out to dinner?” My mind rejected that, but my heart screamed yes. I hadn’t had a date in ages, and this guy? Well, he was freaking gorgeous. Was that an English saying? My lips twitched, and his eyebrows shot up.
“Yes. Out to dinner. Please. What I want to talk to you about, it’s important.” He reached in his pocket, took out a small silver box. He took out a business card and wrote rapidly on the back. “Here, I’ve booked a table for two at eight.” He looked up again. “Please come.”
Mechanically, I took the card and read what he’d written. I felt my eyes widen. I’d never been inside that restaurant. “I … I don’t finish here until seven-thirty. I guess I might be bit late.” I bit my lip. “The bus takes a while.”
“I’ll send the car for you.” His voice was incisive. “Can you be ready at eight? Or eight-fifteen?”
I looked up, startled. “Well. I suppose so.”
I turned the card over and my insides did a somersault. App developer. He was an app developer. How in hell did he know about my plan? I slipped the card into my pocket, and turned to go.
He looked surprised, maybe my shock had showed. “Toni.” He waited until I turned back. “The car will be outside your apartment from eight. It’ll wait until you’re ready.” He smiled, a slightly crooked smile, devastatingly sexy. “Don’t worry if you’re a bit late, I don’t bite.”
I found myself smiling back at him, and went to face Marco, whose suspicious face was glaring at me.
* * *
All that afternoon, I hugged the knowledge of my evening date to myself. Customers came and went, while I panicked inside about what I would wear, what he would say to me, and whether I would know how to use all the cutlery and which wine glass I’d use.
At one point, I realized I hadn’t looked at his name and nipped to the restroom. I stared at the card. The Hon. James Sandiford. What was an Honorable? Did it mean he was some sort of Lord? I shook my head over it. James suited him, though. It was an old-fashioned name, and he seemed to have a sort of old-fashioned courtesy about him. He was hot, though. At the mere thought of a date with him, I could feel my core heating. My panties dampened, and my pulse began to race.