“No, I’m sure you have a lot of better things to do than listen to me moan and complain.”
“Actually, there’s nothing better I have to do than listen to your complaints, particularly if I can fix them. As for moaning, just give me time. I promise, I can’t wait.”
Shock and awe rolled through her, but she wasn’t sure which one was winning. It was one thing to flirt with the truly good-looking waiter, his lean build and well-muscled physique a testament to his fitness, but it was something else to think he was flirting with her.
God, do I have to be so rusty at this? Is he actually flirting or am I just looking for crumbs?
“Seriously.” He laid a hand over the top of hers. “Tell me what’s wrong. I promise you, if I can fix it, I will.”
Her throat choked up and she blinked back the mortifying assault of tears burning her eyes. This was exactly why she’d needed a Madame Eve, because she could light her competition up in the court room, but she’d never figured out how to capture that sizzle outside of it. “I was supposed to be meeting someone tonight, but I was late and obviously they are too or they didn’t bother to show up. It’s my birthday. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for the last week. I hadn’t really thought I had been and then everything went kerfuffle in court, and the judge was a pain in the ass, and I couldn’t get out of there on time, and it looks like I’m spending my birthday eating this beautiful food alone. So pity party, table for one.” The words poured out like a wound lancing open, the pressure on her chest eased, and the cramps in her legs relaxed.
She glanced away from Damon. She was not going to turn into some hysterical female bawling all over him because she’d been stood up.
“It’s your birthday….” His words were slow, mesmerizing and drew her gaze back in spite of herself.
“Yes. The big 3-0. Happy birthday to me…I don’t suppose your boss would let you join me for the meal?” She had no idea where the sassy invitation came from, but once it slipped past her lips there was no taking it back.
“Even if he didn’t, there’s no place else I’d rather be.” He smiled slowly, almost hesitantly. “About your date….”
“No.” She cut him off by turning her hand over under his and indulging in the contact, no matter how brief. “I don’t want to talk about him. He’s not here. Let’s just leave that plot buried, shall we?”
He threaded his fingers with hers. She liked his hands, the fingers were tapered, strong and evenly callused. Whatever he did for a living, he used his hands and he used them well. She half-wondered what it would be like to have them touching her, but immediately shuttled that into the inappropriate and creepy bin. Poor guy was probably just being nice to the hysterical customer.
“I would love to join you for dinner.”
Surprise flared in her. Seriously?
“I don’t want to get you into trouble.” She tried to withdraw, but his grip subtly tightened.
“No trouble at all. In fact, I should have from the start. Now….” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and his sexy blue eyes locked on hers. “Give me three minutes and we’re going to have the best birthday dinner you’ve ever eaten. I promise.”
“Three minutes?”
“And not a minute longer.”
He released her, rose to his feet and scooped up the cheese plate in one smooth motion. With a wink, he pivoted and headed off to the kitchen. Did he just confess to being my date? Hope flared in her stomach. She didn’t like the indecision or the worry. You know, to hell with it. Whether he’s my date or not, he’s joining me. She saluted her new resolve with another mouthful of wine.
She really was hungry for something she’d never tried before….
But somehow she doubted that Damon was on Lagniappe’s elusive menu.
Chapter Three
He snapped into the kitchen, moving double time, a man on a mission. “Mindy, trade stations with Jan. I want you working the tables closest to the private lounge. You’re going to take over bringing out the dishes. John-John has the orders and he’ll give them to you when they need to be delivered.”
“Um, okay.” The redhead arched both eyebrows. “I thought that was your table.”
“It is. Hit the privacy curtain, time to see if the money I spent on that was worth the investment. And switch over the tracks to Blue Star.”
“Jazz trio?”
“Yes.” He swung by John John’s station, eyes skimming the marinating steaks. “Thirty more minutes on those. Sweet potato soup first and get Demi to hollow out some of those sweet potato breads for bread bowls.”