Proud to Serve Her(12)

“How was my palate?” The sassy comment was so at odds with her thready whisper.

“Hungry.” That was not the word he intended to use, but it fit. This was a woman who needed to be kissed and kissed often. Thank God those words didn’t fall from his lips, but too many viewings of Gone With the Wind at his mother’s house and Rhett’s effusive declaration to Scarlett fit.

Shyness danced in her smile and her gaze dipped to his chest; a chest he puffed out a little under her examination.

“I guess this is a night of firsts for me.”

“Me, too,” he confessed, in part to comfort and part to calm his own racing heart.

“Oh?” Her voice didn’t quite squeak, but her cheeks flushed when the higher note punched up the skepticism in the syllable.

He chuckled. “Absolutely. It’s opening night. I’ve got a restaurant full of customers who came to sample the food, friends who made their reservations when I was still knocking down walls, and a crew of devoted employees who not only helped me choose the colors, but indulged every food experiment to help me pick out a menu.” He rubbed his thumbs along the sides of her hands, seeking to soothe her rapid pulse.

Instead of responding to the intimacy of his confession, she withdrew. “I shouldn’t have pulled you away from all of that.”

Damon closed his hands around hers, keeping her turned toward him, and shook his head. “You didn’t pull me away from anything. I am exactly where I want to be. The other firsts are dinner with a beautiful and charming woman whose deeply expressive nature reveals exactly what she thinks and feels about my food and my company, while doing me the incredible honor of sharing her birthday with me.”

“Really?” The surprise widening her eyes couldn’t be feigned, because like her response to the kiss and her nervousness, it reflected in the lean of her body away from him, the sudden rigid lift to her spine and the inescapable clench of her fingers against his palms.

“Absolutely. You came here tonight to meet someone.” Time for the frontal assault, no more games or misdirection. He shifted his grip on her hands, sliding forward on his seat until his legs could brace the sides of her chair, effectively caging her in. Just in case.

“I know and I’m sorry he decided to miss out on the wonderful food, but I….”

“Wait. Please.” She couldn’t have slapped his conscience any harder if she’d tried. She was apologizing for being stood up and offering succor to his ego. He didn’t deserve it. “You came here to meet someone, an arranged date through the 1Night Stand service.”

Her beautiful, pouty lips whitened around the edges. He plowed forward, ready for the friendly fire.

“You weren’t stood up. I came out with your coffee to introduce myself, and you assumed I was a waiter. I should have just corrected you, but you were so nervous and tired, that I decided to play along. Then you were simply beautiful in your responsiveness and I didn’t want to make it awkward. Which is exactly what I’m doing now.” He sighed and caressed the pulse points along her wrists with his thumbs. “I’m sorry for that. Truly sorry that I misled you. But I am not sorry that you’re sitting in my restaurant, eating my food and sharing it with me, and I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive this Marine.”

“You’re my date.” She repeated the words, as though needing to say it aloud to make it real.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She wasn’t pulling away. That was a good sign. She wasn’t slapping him and calling him a jerk. That was a better sign.

A laugh escaped on a breathy exhale and her gaze lifted to the wall behind him, before darting back as she processed the information. “I’m not sure why I assumed you were a waiter. I thought you were my date just playing along and then I thought I was wrong.”

“I wasn’t sure either. Most of the staff is in white shirts and slacks, although some of the women preferred skirts.”

“You were too beautiful a man to be my date.”

He let the beautiful comment skate by, but not the too part and lifted his brows, leaning his face in and letting his nose just brush hers. “That’s an odd turn of phrase.”

“Have you looked at you? Then looked at me?” The self-deprecation littering the question wasn’t false either. She seemed to believe it.

He closed the distance between them and nipped her lower lip, pleased to see the color flood the white lines tightening the corners of her mouth. Resisting a smile, he gave her a stern frown. “First, I told you we don’t speak badly of the ladies here, and I’d much rather look at you than myself, thank you very much. Second, you must have truly been dating the wrong men to think his looks are a barometer for whether he qualified to be your arm candy.”