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His eyes came up to meet mine, and a smile formed on his lips. “I meant it.”
“What?” I squeaked, self-conscious at having been caught checking him out.
“Your picture doesn’t do you justice.”
The heat in my cheeks went up a notch. I looked down and took a sip of water. “Thank you.”
A waitress arrived to break the embarrassing silence. “Can I get you something to drink? A cocktail? Wine? A beer?”
I ordered a chardonnay, but he stuck to lemonade.
“How is this going to work?” I asked.
“Usually you order first and eat second.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Really?”
He looked around before leaning forward. “We should talk later.”
The hint was clear. I hadn’t spotted anybody from the office, but I didn’t know everybody in the building either, and being overheard wouldn’t be good.
“What is it you do, Adam?” That was the most innocuous, date-like question I could come up with.
He put down the menu. “I work at the State Department. Did you bring the item with you?”
I nodded. I’d brought the note in a plastic bag.
“Hold on to it ’till we get outside.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t control my curiosity. “And what do you do for the—”
He stopped me with a raised finger. “I’m a guidance counselor.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“Frustrating is more like it. Sometimes I get the most spoiled children assigned to me.” His eyes bored into me with the wordsspoiled children. “And I have to keep them out of trouble.”
Charming had been replaced by insulting.
The waitress returned with our drinks, stopping him before he really got on a roll. She departed after taking our dinner orders.
“Do you end up whipping them into submission?” I asked.
A smirk appeared. “Only the ones that like it.”
“And if they don’t appreciate your approach?”
He sipped his lemonade. “They don’t get a choice. They do as they’re told, or very bad things happen. That would also get me in trouble, so I don’t allow it. But we should talk later.”
Protection was starting to sound like confinement, and locked up didn’t appeal to me.
I played with my fork. “Do they get field trips?”
“Solo, no. Only supervised.” His hand came across to cover mine. “I take very good care of my clients.”
The electricity that shot from him to me was unmistakable. I willed my hand to move, but it froze, welded in place by the warmth of his touch and the look in his eyes. Antagonism was now nowhere to be found in those light blues, only softness. Once again, heat accumulated in my cheeks.
He took his hand back, and I missed the touch more than I should have, particularly given his family name. I really did need a date.
