Page 13 of Safer Alone
“Angela, I am so glad that you could make it” he offers me his hand which I take in my own and he helps me to my feet. I am a little shorter than he is; even with the help of my wedges I had to angle my face slightly upwards to look into his eyes. With the beams of light bouncing around above us they looked paler in this light, still like the ocean, but when it is closer to the shore instead of deep under the surface.
“Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Sands.” I chicken out. Why couldn’t I use his first name?
He smiles politely at me, unaware of my internal argument. “Shall we head inside?” Knowing we were being watched by others, I make a bold decision, not giving myself even a second to reconsider my actions.
I lift my right hand and pat his chest, twice, then allowing it to rest there for a moment “Yes, we shall.” His smile enlarges at my act; a real smile now, not just a polite one that he gives everyone.
We enter the restaurant together. Surprisingly Elliot doesn’t let go of my hand. I admitted to myself that it felt nice. What wasn’t nice was the number of people who were staring at us from around the room. Once they caught a glimpse of us, they followed our movements. As we approached our table, a few others looked up from their meals. I know that it wasn’t me they were looking at. But still, it was no wonder they were staring. It was all due to this gorgeous man walking beside me. Believe you me, I would be gawking at him too. If I could’ve gotten away with it, that is. Instead, I set myself the task of leaving a smile on my face. I concentrated. It was a hard thing to do. The nerves were starting to kick in.
I am someone who hates being the center of attention at the best of times, let alone when I was accompanying such a handsome man who I was trying to impress. Then on top of that, I was wearing heels. I try to give my full attention to the floor, trying my best not to fall over my two left feet.
Once we arrive at our table, the maître d’ seats us. This was a cozy sized table just for the two of us.
I tried not to make it obvious that I was checking him out, however I was well aware that he hadn’t taken his eyes off me since sitting down. I was feeling a little self-conscious, what was he looking at? Maybe my reflection in the mirror had betrayed me earlier? Surely, he would say something if that was the case. Another possibility floats through my mind. Maybe, just maybe he thought I was beautiful. Several other men have told me I was beautiful before. Not for a long time though, and in that number I would guess that at least two of the three were relatives. Even so, it was possible for him to think that of me, wasn’t it? A girl could dream, after all.
I wrack my brain thinking of suitable small talk, needing to be somehow out from under his stare, I think about a couple of good conversation starters, and decide on one. Just as I am about to ask if he came to Nashville often, he jumped ahead of me “So, Miss White, I’d like to know what you have decided.”
Okay then, that’s how tonight was going to be: straight to the point. I should have known it would be this way. It was a business meeting after all, even though it was being held at a restaurant. There would be no idle chit chat, then. What should I say, yes or no?
~ Chapter Seven ~
Iwas so thankful that at the exact same moment that Elliot expected an answer, our server arrived with a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses. Once the glasses are placed in front of us, he continues to pour the water into the glassware for us. “My name is Sam, and I will be your server tonight. Would either of you like something else to drink?” This was good. Even though he didn’t know he was doing it, Sam was buying me a few more minutes before I had to answer. I could have reached up, kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him.
“Angela, what would you like to drink?” Elliot’s voice rings clear, I am at a crossroads here. Do I choose something alcoholic like a glass of white, or stay on the safe side and choose a non-alcoholic beverage? These places always have soft drinks or orange juice. Argh, decisions, decisions.
“I’m okay with water for now, thank you Sam.” Best I be in a clear state of mind. If all goes well, I’ll order a glass of wine later as a celebration if he purchases the property. Yes, that sounds good. Later in the evening, after I have made it through the meal without making a fool of myself.
Sam nods in my direction. His pencil resting just above the notepad in his other hand, he turns his attention to Elliot, who is looking at the leather-bound wine menu. I’ll have a glass of this cabernet,” he says, pointing to what I can only assume is an expensive wine.
“Will do sir. Won’t be long for you” the server scribbles down the order before heading away from our table. I tentatively reach for my water glass and allow myself a small sip of the liquid, it was nice, cold and refreshing. I don’t tend to buy sparkling water, I mean why have water with bubbles. In this setting, though, it would be odd to have tap water.
With Sam’s arrival and his momentary distraction, I decide that I will do my best to try and capitalize on this and steer Elliot away from his earlier question and into safer, more generic waters. If I can get him talking about a completely different topic, then I can avoid answering his earlier question. “So how did the rest of your afternoon go, Mr. Sands?”
He too has his goblet of water in his hand and is reaching to put it back on the table in front of him, “it went well, thank you. Angela, please, call me Elliot” It is the invitation I had been waiting for; I could drop the formalities. I feel more comfortable addressing him by his first name now that I had given his permission.
“Thank you, Elliot,” and with that, the mission is accomplished, I have used his first name and even better, I have successfully changed the subject.
Maybe it is the lighting in the restaurant, or more than likely it’s my eyes playing tricks on me, but I can swear that for just a second I witness a flicker in his eyes when I address him by his first name. The way someone does when they like what they hear. I see it sometimes when I close a deal at work, when the seller hears the words “I’ve got an offer for you.” Their eyes light up with anticipation, they want to hear more. “How about you, did you have any other showings this afternoon?” luckily Elliot had hit me with another safe question. Relieved that we were still off topic, I was happy to answer.
“No, not this afternoon. Back into it again tomorrow, though.” Sam, the server, returned with Elliot’s wine and placed it on the table.
Noticing that our menus hadn’t been opened, he said, “Take your time and give me a signal when you’re ready to order.” He had recited the specials before taking our drink orders.
I hadn’t even given the menu a single thought since we had sat down, I reflexively grabbed the leather bound folder from the table and lifted it from its resting place to have a quick look, knowing that we weren’t ready. I hear Elliot’s voice say “A few more minutes would be beneficial.”
“Of course” I hear the waiters footsteps as he leaves our table, I raise my gaze over the top of the menu to see that Elliot’s gaze still hadn’t left my face. I felt as though he might find me beautiful. That was the impression that his eyes were giving me. Those eyes were looking at me!
I feel my subconscious smile at the thought that this gorgeous man was sitting across the table from me and not looking away. For the next couple of hours of this evening, this man was mine and his full attention was on me. This will do well for my self-confidence.
“Thank you for getting us a little more time Elliot, I’m sorry but I haven’t eaten here before, I couldn’t even tell you what’s on the menu” I look him directly in the eyes and provide him with my best shy smile,
“That surprises me, actually.”
“What surprises you?”
“That you haven’t eaten here before Angela. Especially when you are a Nashville local. Since it’s also my first time here, I must confess that I don’t know what’s listed on this menu either. But, I want you to choose anything on the menu, anything at all that takes your fancy. Tonight is my treat.” He collects his own menu at this time. No, no, no, no, no, he couldn’t pay for this dinner, could he?
I mean it’s not as though he can’t afford it, but still, I really should pay for my own. I mean just how much would a Chicken Caesar salad cost anyway. I locate the salad section of the menu, quickly scanning I find the price and almost stop breathing, $35.00 for a salad, salad whose ingredients can nearly be counted on one hand: lettuce, bacon, chicken, egg, parmesan cheese and croutons, Sheesh, I had just under $200 left in my everyday bank account and that had to last me for another ten days, that was when I would receive my next pay. There was another option, there was always my savings account, the one I didn’t touch, if I’m not going to break into that to purchase a house, I’m not going to for a dinner that Elliot is offering to pay for, maybe I should just let him pay for dinner? After all he was the one who advised he would be paying, I don’t want to offend him now do I? And it would be disrespectful to argue with him, anyway I can order him a glass of champagne to toast with if he purchases the property.
