I immediately want to comfort her. Wrap her in my arms and reassure her everything's going to be all right. I don't even know what I'd be referring to, but I don't care. She brings out a protectiveness in me I didn't even realize I had.
"What are you talking about Bryn?" There's definitely more going on here than what she's saying, and I want to know what it is.
"I left home because I had a bad experience at a job." A funny little smile crosses her lips, and I wonder what sort of bad experience she's talking about. "Then I moved to Los Angeles because I decided to become a model. I'm tall, I have a decent face, and I decided I was going to use my natural assets to get a job. But that was a disaster."
I can only imagine. I've heard plenty of firsthand stories of how Hollywood chews up these pretty, naive girls and spits them out.
Bryn was gorgeous enough that I wouldn't doubt she had a lot of interest. Probably all of it overtly sexual though, since so many of the sleazy photographers and directors that line the Hollywood streets won't do anything for a girl unless she sleeps with them first.
"So the job at the winery was a last ditch effort before I had to go back home for good. I found the job on Craigslist. I loaded up my old Saturn with my few boxes of stuff and drove north to the land of new opportunities. Only to discover the winery was hanging by a thread and eventually we weren't even getting paid properly. Until you walked in and saved us all."
The waiter chooses this moment to show up with our drinks and my appetizer, interrupting Bryn's story. I wait impatiently as he places everything in front of us and takes our dinner orders-well my dinner order since Bryn chose salted caramel cake for her dessert. He even tries to make conversation, and I finally glare at him until he gets the hint and takes off.
"Matt, that was kind of rude," Bryn chastises the moment the waiter's gone. "He was just trying to do his job and be nice."
"He interrupted you." I grab my silverware and place my napkin in my lap before I dig into the crab cake. It smells amazing, the sauce that comes with it is delicious and my starving stomach is applauding my choice even as I begin eating. "Go on," I prompt her after I swallow.
"I was pretty much done. You were my savior and now here we sit, in New York City. You showing the country bumpkin how the big city folk live." She props her elbow on the edge of the table and rests her chin on her fist. "You've taught me a lot in a short amount of time, Matt, and for that I'm eternally grateful."
She's speaking with a finality that makes me uneasy. "I'll show you more if you let me," I say, going with the double meaning behind my words. Why pretend any longer? I'm sick of it. I don't know if she is too, considering she's been running pretty hot and cold lately, but I am one who goes after something-or someone-once I realize I want it.
And I want her. Bryn. I'm tired of fighting my attraction for her.
Her arm drops from the table as she leans back in her chair. "What do you mean by that?"
I shrug. "Take from it whatever you want."
She studies me for a long, quiet moment, her gaze roving over my face before she finally reaches for her water glass and drains half of it. "I won't sleep with you, Matt," she says after she sets the glass on the table.
I'm shocked yet pleased at her boldness. "What I'm suggesting won't involve any sleeping, Bryn."
Her lips part as her eyes widen the slightest bit. "We shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"I work for you."
"I know. That little fact does make my attraction for you rather-awkward." There. I said it. And I'm not taking it back either.
"I've tried resisting you." She drops her head, studies her lap, and I want to reach for her. Pull her into my arms and offer her reassurance, let her know she's not alone in this confusing sea of emotions and wants and needs.
I'm right there with her, drowning in the swirling sea, hoping she'll be the one who finally throws me an anchor and tows me in.
"I've tried resisting you too," I confess in a low murmur. "Clearly it's not working since I still want you."
"Is it a case of wanting what you can't have?" Her head is still bent, her voice so soft I can hardly hear it.
My appetite has fled. I set my fork on the edge of the plate and push it away. All I can think about, all I can want is this woman sitting across from me. "No. It's a case of wanting what I've had a taste of, and needing more of it. More of you."
She slowly lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine. "I got in trouble for doing this before."
I frown, confused by her change of subject. "For doing what?"
"Fooling around with my boss. I was nineteen. It was my first real job. My boss flirted with me and really turned on the charm until he finally wore me down, and I fell under his spell." She pauses, licking her lips. "He literally chased me around his desk all the time. It turned into this . . . game, and I actually liked the chase. Finally I let him catch me."