by Darci Balogh
Though she laughed at his comment, she could barely look at him. "I'm mortified," she said into her hands.
"No, no, don't be mortified," his British accent made this entreaty that much more appealing.
Gathering her courage, she checked to see if he was sincere. His eyes sparkled with humor and an intimacy she couldn't explain considering the short time they had known each other. Flustered, she tried to look away, but couldn't.
"Really, truly, it's not a bad thing at all," he nudged her again with his shoulder. "I know!" He interrupted her mortification with an idea. "Let's go get something to eat. I'm famished." He stepped over to the kitchen table and grabbed a piece of the hard salami she'd picked up off the floor to pop into his mouth.
"No!" Sofia lunged forward as she shouted. Ian froze with his hand mid-air, baffled at her reaction. "Sorry," she put her hand over his hand that held the salami and pressed on it, pushing it back down to the plate. "That's not edible," she explained, but the words had become unimportant because as she touched his hand she saw the confusion on his face turn into something more, an intense attraction. She recognized it on him, because she was experiencing the same feeling.
"What do you say?" Ian asked, his voice low. He let the piece of salami drop back on the plate, but she found it impossible to take her hand from where it rested on his.
"I can't," she said quietly and watched disappointment cloud his eyes. "I have plans already. I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it.
Suddenly, her cell phone rang. They both jumped at the sound, as if they'd been caught in a clandestine moment.
Tearing herself away from him, Sofia pulled her phone out of her purse. It was Tawnyetta.
"Hello?" She answered, turning away but seeing Ian watch her as she did.
"Guess what?" Tawnyetta asked.
"What?"
"We're hung up in this meeting and it doesn't look like we're going to get back until late. We won't be able to do anything tonight with you," Tawnyetta said apologetically.
Sofia faced Ian and he caught her in his gaze. Her cell phone volume was on high and she could tell from his expression that he had heard Tawnyetta.
"No?"
"I'm sorry, Sofia," Tawnyetta continued.
"Don't worry about it," Sofia said as a slow smile spread over Ian's face.
She hit the 'End' button on her phone. A feeling of anticipation was palpable in the room.
Sofia cleared her throat as she said, "My plans have been cancelled."
Ian nodded, trying to be nonchalant. "I gathered that."
"So..."
"So..." He cocked his head at her, his handsome bad boy look irresistible. "Since you're free...will you let me take you out?"
Heat filled her cheeks and she looked down coyly. "Yes," she answered.
Ian leaned forward, so close she could have touched his tattoos with the tips of her fingers. When he spoke, his voice whispered over her cheek and lips, sending a shiver down her spine. "I promise, you're not going to regret this."
Chapter Seven
When Ian promised her an evening she would never forget, Sofia had not expected it would start on the corner of a busy street.
Just before they left her flat she had changed out of her Saturday chore clothes into a cream colored sundress with the thinnest pattern of white swirls on the fabric. The dress was well tailored, light and airy, and complemented her rich brown skin. She pulled her hair back into a long braid that fell down to the middle of her back and put on her favorite pair of sexy, white sandals. When she came out of her bedroom Ian was leaning casually against her counter, waiting. When he saw her he straightened up and stared at her for a few beats, surprised and pleased at the way she looked. That had made her feel good, but later as she sat on the street corner waiting for him, Sofia felt woefully overdressed.
Ian had abandoned her briefly on an iron bench that was positioned in the shade of a building while he waited in the long line to get their meal. Fish and chips from a street cart that he swore by. It took him a good twenty minutes, five of it he spent chatting up the gentleman who ran the food cart. They looked like old friends the way they were going on with each other.
Never in her life had someone asked her out on a date and not taken her someplace with valets...or at least waiters. Not once. Not ever. For the full twenty minutes he was getting their food Sofia racked her brain trying to think of a less impressive first date experience in her past. She came up empty.
"Tuck in, you're going to need your energy," he said when he returned and handed her a heaping serving of deep fried battered fish and what she thought of as French fries, but were called chips in the UK. The massive amount of food was wrapped like a bouquet of flowers in paper made to look like newsprint. This helped soak up the grease, hopefully. Sofia held the monstrous meal away from her body so grease wouldn't spill on her dress.
"Thank you," she said politely. She tried to mask her dismay.
"Now, now," Ian said, reading her expression. "Don't be disappointed before you try it."
She picked up a chunk of the piping hot fish and broke off a piece. Steam lifted from the flaky white fish inside. He did the same and put the whole piece into his mouth. Sofia bit into the crispy deliciousness. The fish tasted light and mild, with a satisfying crispy chewiness from the deep-fried batter. Tangy, sweet, delicious. Her mouth still full she looked at Ian with wide eyes. This was far better than she expected. She couldn't speak with her mouth full, but she tried to smile at him.
"Did I tell you or did I tell you?" Ian grinned and took another generous bite.
They shared the bench as they ate every morsel of the delectable street food. Full and satisfied, all that remained of their dinner was the greasy newspaper wrapping it came in. Ian took hers, crumpled them both up into paper balls and tossed them into a nearby trashcan as if he was shooting basketball. He scored twice in a row.
"Are you thirsty?" he asked. She got the feeling this was a loaded question. Sofia nodded. Standing up and offering her his hand, he asked, "Fancy a pint?" 90% sure she knew what he was asking, Sofia nodded again.
She took his hand and he pulled her swiftly up so they were standing chest to chest. She liked how small her hand felt wrapped in his and she became very aware of his personal space. For a moment she wondered what it must be like to kiss someone like Ian Law. Her eyes dropped to his mouth then shot back up so he wouldn't guess what she was thinking.
"Ready then?" he asked. A true gentleman. But lingering behind those cat eyes she saw a flicker of amusement and knew instantly that he had guessed exactly what she was thinking.
"I'm ready," she answered. They strolled down the street still holding hands while Ian gave her a guided tour, complete with colorful anecdotes.
"My Nan used to shop here. She made all of her own dresses, and my mum's, and my sister's, before she died," he told her as they passed a sewing and needlework shop. He pointed at Sofia's favorite bakery with his chin as they walked by. "My brother stole a cookie from this place when he was eight years old. My mum made him come back everyday for the whole summer and help the old man who ran the place clean up at the end of the day."
"Really? I love this place."
"I think the old man passed away years ago. His son runs it now."
"You grew up around here?"
Ian nodded and pointed up the street. "If you go to Chestnut and turn left, then four streets down turn right on Rose Avenue, one more and take a left on Swallow Street, then three buildings up on the right, fourth floor, second door on the left. That's where I grew up."
Sofia laughed.
"What?"
"That's a very precise answer," she chuckled.
He grinned. "How's this for you, then? When you walk in the front door hang your jacket up on the left, boots off please if it's been raining, turn the corner to the right and say 'Hi' to Mum who's sitting there watching the telly, quick left, up fourteen stairs," here he paused and wrinkled his brow as if trying to rem
ember. Sofia responded with another giggle. "Ah, yes! Second door on the right, and you're there straight away."
"That's your room?"
"Well, it was my room when I was an impressionable young man," he admitted. They walked along for a few minutes quietly before Ian asked, "Do you like precise answers?"
Sofia studied him as she pondered the question. It seemed an odd thing to ask. Even more odd was that it carried with it an insight about the way her mind worked. "Yes, I do."
"Makes sense, what with you making a career out of high math."
"I suppose it does," she smiled. "Do you?"
"Like precise answers?" he asked. She nodded and waited as he took his time considering the question. "Not completely," he said, annunciating each consonant carefully. "I like loose ends, you know? I like a bit of freedom. I like not knowing exactly what's around the corner."
They continued making their way down the street, comfortably meandering and taking in all of the sights. The thought occurred to Sofia that Ian's love of freedom might mean that they were just going to wander around all night, finding refreshments at various street vendors. Maybe he hadn't made detailed plans. This thought made her feel strange. Was it wise for her to be out on the streets of London as the sun set lower in the sky wandering around with a man she barely knew? His grip on her hand that had felt so comforting and warm a few minutes ago changed into an uncomfortable link between them. She thought about how she could slip her hand out of his without causing a big scene.
"Here we are," Ian said as he abruptly stopped in front of a building that looked like it had been lifted out of the pages of a fairy tale book and plopped onto the street. A standalone building, barely, there couldn't have been more than six inches between its outside walls and the walls of the establishments on either side. A large wooden sign hung from an iron mast that stuck straight out from above the door.
Sofia read the sign out loud. "The Sneezing Pigeon..."
"In all her glory," Ian answered.
The Sneezing Pigeon was built with solid chunks of wood stacked like so many giant blocks. Painted in ox blood red and deep forest green, it had yellowed glass windows across the front, so frosted from age that nothing could be seen through them. Baskets of flowers hung from iron hooks embedded in the wall. Mounds of flowers also grew in window containers under each window, and in two long beds that were built between the Sneezing Pigeon and the sidewalk.
Sofia knit her brow and gave him an incredulous look. "The Sneezing Pigeon?"
"Absolutely," he answered.
The warm smell of yeast greeted her as Ian ushered her in. Fermentation of beer and ale, fresh baked bread, and meat stewing in a pot with onions and carrots, gave The Sneezing Pigeon a pleasant smell. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, Sofia took in the long room. On one side there was a row of green paisley upholstered bench seating with wooden tables placed in line along them. The opposite side of the room was home to a long shining bar with plush red upholstered bar stools. Shelves and shelves of glass liquor bottles lined the wall behind the counter. On the far end of the room was a timeworn fireplace filling most of the wall, and a small stage stuck into the corner.
Ian entered behind her and instantly two of the men sitting at the bar called out to him in greeting. He lifted his hand to wave, but did not make a move to sit by them. Although Sofia could not see where else they might take a seat, all of the tables were full of patrons.
"Oi, Rupert," Ian called out. Sofia followed his gaze to see a heavyset balding man who dominated most of the space behind the bar.
"Ian!" Rupert called back, shifting his eyes momentarily to give her a quick nod of greeting, then back to Ian.
"Anything in back?" Ian asked.
"She's all yours," Rupert motioned to an open doorway next to the fireplace that Sofia hadn't noticed at first glance.
Everything was shiny brass and polished wood in this place. Green and gold tinted glass shades were on all of the lamps and a familiar uneven feeling under her feet that reminded her of the Red Lion Bookstore. As they went to the back they were surrounded by the sounds of clinking glasses, low laughter, and murmurs of conversation. As soon as she stepped into the back she let out a sigh of relief. Cool air welcomed her in this cave like room. Damp, dark comfort, as if it had been carved out of this space since the beginning of time and offered a safe reprieve from the outside world.
Their table was small and round. Intimate. Two chairs, two glasses of cool amber ale with creamy foam froth on top.
"You may laugh at the name," Ian said as he lifted the glass to his lips. "But The Sneezing Pigeon serves the best pints in London."
Sofia sipped the cold bitter liquid. It ran over her tongue and down her throat. The bitterness quenched her thirst more than something sweet. This was the perfect complement to their dinner.
Lighting in the back room was even darker than the front. Scant wall sconces glowing dimly did little to alleviate the problem so The Sneezing Pigeon also had votive candles lit, one on each table. She watched Ian in the candlelight as he took a healthy swallow of his ale and wiped the froth off of his upper lip with the back of his hand. As he dropped his hand back to the table in front of her, Sofia's eyes followed.
Her brow pinched together in a question. "What does your tattoo say?" She let her finger drop to the very beginning of his sheet music tattoo, which started on his hand and twisted up and around his forearm, disappearing under his T-shirt. Her nails were painted a rose pink and she watched his eyes follow her finger as she traced the first word, 'Whisper...'
Finally, he lifted his eyes to hers and held them for a moment. They were darker in this light. A chill began at the base of her neck and moved deliciously down her spine as he looked into her eyes. The ale was working fast.
Ian left his hand resting under her finger as if the weight of it was holding his hand against the table. With his other hand he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, twisting his torso sideways so she could follow the tattoo as it wrapped like a rope around the muscles of his arm.
"Whisper words of wisdom..." he read it to her.
"Let it be? The Beatles?"
"The Beatles...always," he grinned. Before she could react, Ian leaned forward, both arms on the table, and sang the first few lines of the song to her. Sofia sat in silence letting his voice move over her like liquid. His breath, tinged with the bitter ale, brushed against her cheeks and a swell of attraction overtook all of her other senses.
She swallowed, hard.
Ian was so close to her she could smell his cologne. The same cologne he'd worn at the dinner party. Captivating. A crooked smile crept across his face as he watched her gaze move languidly along the hard lines of his jaw to his thick, red hair, before resting on his surreal eyes.
"I–" she started. The glimmer in his eyes, so sensual, so intense, interrupted her thought. What had she been about to say? She couldn't remember.
He lifted both eyebrows at her. "You...what?" His voice was deep, relaxed.
Sofia dropped her gaze and saw that her hand was still on his. She pulled it away and sat back in her chair, breaking the spell. It suddenly seemed too warm in this room. Cramped. Stuffy.
"I think I need some fresh air," she said.
As soon as they stepped back onto the street Sofia felt more like herself. Solid ground under her feet, the early evening air cool and refreshing. She felt awake, alert. It had been good to get out and spend some time with someone new. Someone from her new city who was very cute and interesting. A casual date was probably exactly what she had needed to take the edge off of her first week at work and feel a little more comfortable in her new surroundings.
They turned in the direction of her flat.
"This has been really nice, Ian," Sofia said. She wanted to compliment him on his interesting choices and make sure he knew she appreciated his effort.
"Has it?"
She looked at him sideways as they walked together. "Yes, great fish and chips an
d an authentic English pub," she added. "Thank you for showing me around."
Ian stopped and turned to her. "It's eight o'clock."
Sofia stopped and faced him, confused over his meaning. "Yes?"
"Are you ready to go home?"
Sofia glanced around, looking for anything else date-like to do on the sidewalk. The early evening had turned to the soft twilight of night around them. Street lights had turned on and the bustle of the city had a less business feel, more like a night out. She lifted her shoulders in a meek shrug. "I do have work on Monday."
Ian coughed out a laugh. "It's Saturday!"
"I thought...I mean," she fumbled for words.
Concern filled his eyes. "Do you want to go home? If you want to go home, I'll take you."
"No," she answered unconvincingly. She did want to go home, but not because she wasn't enjoying herself or enjoying Ian. Exactly the opposite, in fact.
Ian watched her face carefully. Being scrutinized so closely by those other worldly eyes made her feel young and bashful. She chewed her bottom lip uncertainly.
"Come on, then," he said, carefully taking her by the elbow and resuming their stroll. "I'll walk you to your flat if you like."
"No, no," she answered, with more clarity this time. "I just thought dinner and a drink was the whole evening," she tried to explain. "You're right, I don't have to go home now."
He lifted his brow and spoke in all seriousness, "You're certain?"
"Yes, I'm certain," she responded. But she wasn't certain at all. Agreeing to stay in Ian's company filled her stomach with butterflies and made her feel a little lightheaded.
He smiled. That smile. The one that started in his eyes and moved across his whole face. "Brilliant," he said. Ian looked past her to the street and raised his arm high in the air. Putting his tongue against his front teeth he let out a piercing whistle that stopped a nearby taxi. He stepped to the back door and opened it with a flourish. "You're coach, my lady," he swept his arm gallantly toward the dark interior of the cab. As she moved past him he winked at her, sending a flurry of butterflies from her stomach into her chest. "I'll show you something you can't see anywhere else in the world," he said.