Working Men 1 Box Set

At Your Service-5

Two different servers bring our food, but this time Todd is right behind them, a smile on his lips that I fancy is just for me. “You’re lucky I didn’t carry it,” he jokes, replacing our empty glasses with refills. “I’m clumsy.”

“You?” He’s got a dancer’s grace when he walks, and I wonder how well he moves in bed. I blush thinking that, but now I can’t get the image out of my mind—the two of us lying on my narrow futon, him beneath me as his hips wriggle in maddening ways. “I wouldn’t have thought—”

He trips against the table and for a frightening moment the glasses in his hands threaten to slip free to dump melted ice into my lap.

Jen lets out a tiny squeal and I slide back against the far side of the booth, but then he laughs and catches himself. “I’m just teasing.”

Now Jen’s laughing, too, and when I look at him, I’m drowning in his gaze, scarcely able to breathe because he’s so close, watching me like he’s trying to memorize my face so he’ll never forget what I look like once I leave.

Suddenly I wish Jen wasn’t here with us. I wonder if he’d dare to sit down across from me if she wasn’t already there. I wonder if he’d talk more, maybe ask my name or give me his number like he hinted at before when I couldn’t decide what to eat.

Because I don’t know what to say, I pick up the fork and knife and cut into the chicken I ordered. “Thank you,” I say softly.

“You’re welcome.” He stands there a moment longer before moving away.

Once he’s gone, Jen winks at me. “See?” she says, as if proving a point. “What did I tell you? He likes you.”

“Maybe.”

I’m not going to get my hopes up, no matter how cute he is or how irresistible his smile. What if he’s just being friendly? What if I give him my number—heaven forbid, I could never do that—but just saying I did give it to him, or Jen gave it to him… what if he never called? I’d feel like an i***t.

But right now I’m high on his smile, so lost in the thought of him and the images of the two of us pressed together that I devour my food without even realizing I’m eating. When the plate is empty, I stare at it for a long time. Something’s stirring inside me, something akin to hunger that has nothing to do with second helpings and dessert, something that makes me feel flushed and eager and a little clumsy myself.

He likes you…

God, I hope she’s not just saying that.

When Jen’s finished, she pushes her plate away and slides out of the booth. “Be right back,” she tells me, then disappears in the direction of the restrooms.

I pick at the remaining vegetables on her plate and wonder if I should ask for his number when he comes to clear our table. Can I sound casual about it? I don’t know. If he asks me what I want for dessert maybe I can say—

“You finished?”

I look up and Todd’s there, standing by my side again. Without Jen here, he’s got one arm draped around the back of the booth, the other resting on the table near my hand. His fingers brush against my wrist like live wires, his touch electric on my skin. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s not.” I choke down a green bean lodged in my throat. I’m intensely aware of him and can’t take my gaze from his hand where it touches mine.

“Not what?”

I jump when his other hand smoothes across my shoulders with the softest caress. “Not my girl.” Daring to meet his eyes, I look into their oceanic depths and breathe, “But you already know that, don’t you?”

He laughs, and his hand moves across my back again as he leans closer. “I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

Ask for my number.

Would I give it to him? Hell, yes.

But he doesn’t ask for that. Instead, he stares at me until it’s just us. The restaurant around us is gone, and I strain to hear his low words. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

I swallow hard, not trusting myself to speak.

With a wink, he adds, “Or should I walk by again?”

I’m struck dumb. Before I can figure out if he’s joking or not, if he expects an answer, if he wants one, Jen’s sliding into the booth across from us, that ‘I told you so’ look of hers already in place.

With fluid grace, Todd takes our plates and hands us a dessert menu, professional waiter once again. “You guys want something sweet?”

I feel as if he’s only talking to me. I take the small dessert menu, which is still warm from where he had it stuck in his back pocket. I do, but I guarantee what I want isn’t on these glossy pages.

I wish I had the guts to say that out loud.

* * * *

Jen wants dessert. She picks out something decadent and says we’ll share, and when Todd walks away with our order, she says casually, “I have his number.”

My hand jerks, knocking over the salt shaker and spilling salt in a white fan across the table. “What?” I scoop up the salt and drop it into my empty glass. “Who’s number? How? You went to the bathroom, Jen—”

“And ran into Cathy.”

So it’s Cathy now, is it?

Jen leans across the table, excited. “She said he likes you—told you, didn’t I? He wanted to give you his number but he’s shy.”

I laugh. “You’re joking,”

We must be talking about two different Todds here, because the guy who leaned over me and asked if he should walk by again was anything but shy; he’s raw sensuality pouring out of every pore and he was practically in my lap. I can still feel his hand on my back… that boy is not shy. “She gave it to you?”

Jen nods. “His pager number.”

“Give it to me.” I hold out my hand. I can’t believe it. I have his number.

To my surprise, Jen shakes her head. “No. I know you, Danny. You’ll stick it in your pocket and forget all about it. It’ll go through the wash and when you find it again, it’ll be all smeared and torn apart and impossible to read.”

“Please, Jen.”

I’m afraid I sound like I’m begging but I want that number and she has it. Didn’t Cathy say to give it to me? So it’s mine. I want it now.

She shakes her head again. “Or you’ll never call him. I know you too well. Tonight you’ll think about it, but you won’t call because it’ll be late and you won’t know when he gets off work. And by tomorrow you’ll have talked yourself out of calling him and just throw his number away. So I’ll keep it for you. I’ll remind you to call him.”

“Jen….”

Right now I hate her because she’s right—that’s exactly what I would do. Or rather, what I used to do.

It’s different this time. Todd is different. I can’t not call him. With or without that number, I’m going to think about him all night long. If I’m lucky, I’ll dream about him, too, so he’ll still be fresh in my mind tomorrow. “Give me his number. I’ll call him, I swear it.”

“Here you go, guys,” Todd says, coming up behind me.

I duck at the way he grins like a damn cat because he heard that last bit, I know he did, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who I’m talking about.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Jen laughs as he walks away. Of course she’d find this funny.