Page 15 of His Daughter

Her eyes found me eventually. She came down the steps slowly. I stood, buttoned my jacket, moved around the table, and pulled out her chair. She looked at the chair, then at me, one eyebrow lifted.

I smiled. "You're going to make me apologize for basic manners?"

"I'm deciding." She shrugged and sat down.

She set her clutch on the table, folded her hands, and looked at me across the candlelight. I picked up the wine list, then put it back down. I had already ordered what I wanted.

The table was small. Good. I wanted her close enough to hear the shift in her breathing, close enough that the candlelight could do its work on her cheekbones and those eyes I'd spent three hours thinking about.

I picked up the menu and opened it toward her, angling it so she could read the wine list. "The Sancerre is excellent. The Barolo is better, but it needs a red meat companion. Are you a red meat woman, Calloway?"

She took the menu from my hands. Our fingers brushed the leather. "I can read a menu."

"I don't doubt it. I just wanted to watch you decide."

She looked at me over the top of the menu. The candlelight flickered. "You're very sure of yourself."

"Occupational hazard." I leaned back, smiled, and let the silence sit between us. "I had them set aside a few things the chef does well…if you trust me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't trust anyone I met three hours ago."

"Fair." I signaled the waiter. "Then let's start with what I trust, and you can tell me if I'm wrong."

She watched me order. I chose the lamb for her because she'd been reading that section of the menu longest and the branzino for myself.

The wine came. I poured some for her. She took a sip, and her eyes closed for half a second. When they opened, they were wide with wonder.

"That's good," she said.

"I know."

"And I see you're also modest."

I smiled. "Who needs modesty when my price tag is on my forehead?"

She scoffed. "You just lost a thousand points with me. Show some humility, Mr. Hale."

"Wouldn't that be pretentious of me? My entire company — my image — is built on what I have to offer. My humility is never in question in those rooms."

"Hmmm…" She turned the wine glass by its stem, considering me. "How about in this room? Your price tag doesn't matter to me. I'm judging you, you know?"

I sipped the wine. "Judge all you want. I'm an open book, sweetheart. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

She cocked her head. "Really?"

"Really. Ask away."

Our gazes locked. A wicked glint lit her eyes — a dare. I was eager to see how far she would go on the first date and which buttons she'd push. That would tell me everything I needed to know.

"Are you sure you're ready for my questions, Mr. Hale?"

The food arrived at that exact moment. I barely noticed the waiter or the plate in front of me. As soon as he left, I answered, "Like I said…ask away."

"If you insist." She stabbed her fork into her lamb. "Well, what's the one thing you want the most?"

"You."

Her fork froze an inch from her lips, tines still glistening with juice. Her eyes widened—just a fraction, but enough for me to catch the flicker of surprise before she shuttered it behind a quick blink. A flush crept up her neck, barely visible in the low restaurant light.