That caused a small laugh to erupt next to her.
“Personal?” he finally uttered.
“Intrusive? Is that a better word?” she muttered with her eyes still attached firmly to the swirled surface of the stainless steel bar top.
“Oh, so sorry, Anne. I didn’t realize these probing questions were so intrusive. It’s called small talk. The proper reaction is a polite answer. But then again, I don’t really expect a polite answer out of you. Of course, this is what makes you so damn compelling to me. You have the sweetest face and this tiny size and you look so demure and inviting and then you open your mouth and it’s like a thousand razor blades slicing through the air.”
His words caused her eyes to inadvertently snap to his. The stare he graced her with was so intense; it almost took her breath away. Almost.
“So…if I was nice…you’d leave me alone?” she asked and immediately regretted the words. They sounded stupid to her own ears.
“You could try,” he whispered with his eyes still firmly attached to hers. Amazing how the background noise sort of disappeared as she found herself completely immersed under his spell - a very unwelcome spell and something she hadn’t quite experienced before.
She cleared her throat before backing away and blinking. “Hmmm. Ok,” she pondered out loud before flashing him a smile.
“What’s that?” he asked as he placed his elbow on the bar and cradled the side of his head on his hand as he continued to watch her.
“That’s me being nice,” she stated through smiling lips and bright eyes. “So, Mr. McClellan, you’re from Scotland. That’s very nice and you own the company and that’s just great. Where do you stay? Do you have a house here in the States? How long do you plan on being here? What’s your favorite color?”
“What’s my favorite color?” he asked with a clearly amused expression on his face. “That’s the best you’ve got? Do you really care?”
“No,” she answered without a thought.
“Shocking,” he stated quickly. “That was strange. I think I like you better as a surly curmudgeon. You can drop the act.”
“Why? You’re so fascinating. I just have to know more about you,” she mimicked his lean on the bar surface, her eyes gazing up at him in mock interest. Something was there. Like a small spark to her subconscious. This was almost…fun. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the fact that his eyes held the promise of something much more than just a superficial conversation. His gaze was pointed and the effect was warming her considerably.
Completely unwelcome. Especially considering the fact that he owned the company she was working for. This wasn’t a red flag, more like a red tarp hanging over their heads.
“Right. Anne? I appreciate the effort, truly I do. You can go back to being…”
“Mr. McClellan?” the bartender’s voice interrupted him but Ian’s eyes remained on hers. “Doug wants to show you the kitchen,” he heard next to him but he was having difficulty looking anywhere but at the oddly beautiful colored eyes in front of him.
“Doug wants to show me the kitchen,” he stated in a low voice. “Come with me, let’s go see Doug’s kitchen.”
“Who is Doug and why would I want to see his kitchen?” she asked before breaking the eye contact and grabbing her glass for a sip of liquid courage.
“Doug is the owner and the kitchen’s been renovated. Come on,” he softly prodded. His hand automatically lifted and gently grasped her elbow causing a small jerk of her arm before she eased it out of his grasp.
“I’m fine. Go look at Doug’s kitchen,” she stated as her other hand unconsciously touched the elbow he just released. It felt burned from the contact and of course, to her rational mind, that was ridiculous.
He watched her profile for a moment before pushing the stool back. Her hand immediately touched the elbow he just released. Curious. She was unconsciously making herself all the more intriguing with her strange behavior. “All right then,” he stated. “I’ll be right back.” He leaned in toward her. “Don’t run off,” his quiet voice commanded and the look that accompanied it caused something to stir within her.
He turned and walked through the restaurant toward the back, all the while her eyes never strayed from his form. He was dressed in his work attire of dark dress pants and a crisp white shirt that was fitted perfectly to broad shoulders and a tapered waist. It was hard not to imagine that the body beneath the clothes was probably exceptional. Of course, thinking such things was completely inappropriate and not to mention, slightly disturbing to her subconscious.
He walked with such an air of confidence, stopping once to acknowledge a greeting from a distinguished looking middle aged couple on the other side of the bar. His head turned and his eyes caught hers from across the room before a small knowing smile played on his lips. She immediately focused her attention on the wine in front of her.
The door pinged softly in the background as she continued to stare at the light golden liquid shining within the confines of the delicate glass. Her eyes slowly traveled to where he was standing only a split second before as if there was something tugging them against their will. He was already continuing his trek to the back of the restaurant as she continued her study. He made an abrupt turn and disappeared from her view.
“Hi there. Is this seat taken?” she heard a male voice next to her causing her eyes to scan at least eight other empty stools in the general vicinity. He was obviously speaking to her as she was the only person near the front side of the rather narrow restaurant.
Nerves crackled, maybe remnants of her previous encounter, she thought, but no. These nerves were not of the fluttery stomach kind, more of the apprehensive brain buzzing kind. Her space was being invaded yet again. A hand was now pulling the stool out from the area on the side opposite of the one McClellan had just vacated. Wouldn’t this be cozy? She thought as her mind quickly realized that when he came back she would then be flanked on both sides.
She needed to leave.
“So, you like Connelly’s too, huh? Are you a local? I’m here on business. Nice town,” she heard next to her. “Oh! I’m Justin, And you are…?”
Leaving.
“Anne,” she stated instead. Her eyes snapped to the bartender as he poured a drink and passed it to an older man seated on the far side of the bar.
“Anne. Nice to meet you Anne. Are you here alone?” Lovely, inappropriate, somewhat creepy question, she thought as a slight grimace overtook her features. She kept her eyes locked on the bartender to hopefully get his attention.
No. No my boyfriend is meeting me here. He just got out of prison today. He will kill you if he sees you sitting next to me. I’m sorry, he’s got a bit of jealous streak, you see…
“Umm…Oh hey!” her eyes brightened as the bartender must have taken her cue and wandered over to her.
“Another wine?”
“No! Just the check,” she stated before grabbing her purse and rooting through it to find her wallet.
“The check? But your dinner is almost ready…” he trailed off; his expression was somewhat confused on his boyish face.
“Can I get it to go? I ah…forgot I have something I need to do…” she stammered.
“Don’t leave on my account!” Justin quipped jovially.
The bartender continued to look at her; he was clearly dumbfounded by this new development. “Are you…sure? But…”
“Yes,” she interrupted him, “Yes, I’m sure. I really need to get going,” she placed her debit card in front of her. Her eyes darted to the rear of the restaurant hoping McClellan wouldn’t appear and ruin her sudden plan.
“Well, all right. I can do that, I guess,” he added as he grabbed for the card. He picked it up but placed it on the counter next to the cash register before continuing toward the end of the bar, clearing the other side and walking toward the kitchen.
That was dumb.
He was going to tell the chef to put her food into a take-out container and of course,
McClellan was back there. Her debit card was being held hostage and the man next to her just said something else.
What did he say? Her brain was buzzing too loudly to hear him. Maybe she had cash? She could put the cash on the bar, leave the card, come back for it tomorrow and leave before the food arrived. How strange would that look?
Who cared?
This was a disaster. She had a twenty dollar bill in her wallet. That was it - one lonely twenty and not nearly enough to cover both the meal and the wine.
Maybe I can write an IOU?
Maybe I can check myself into a mental ward?
An exasperated sigh escaped her lips.
“Are you OK?” she heard her unwanted companion ask.
“No,” she stated softly. “Yes,” she amended quickly, “Yes, I’m fine. I just really need to get going. I…” Her eyes immediately focused on what she assumed was the entrance to the kitchen as a thoroughly pissed off looking Ian McClellan turned the corner and walked with purpose toward her. This may be why people hide from him, she thought as she took in his displeased expression. Tension seemed to radiate from his form as their eyes held. As soon as he was in speaking distance, his expression changed in the blink of an eye.
“So, I leave you for two minutes and you’re already picking up other men? For shame, darling. I’m disappointed in you.” His easy smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. His focus shifted from her to the man sitting next to her. He gave a pointed look before seating himself next to her.
“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t realize…” Justin started speaking before McClellan cut him off.
“It’s all right, happens all the time. She’s just so darn cute, eh?”
Anne focused her attention ahead of her, not quite sure if she should bolt, hide under the bar, excuse herself to the Ladies room…it was just so awkward.
“Um, er…I’ll just go sit over there. Sorry to disturb you…” she could hear as the body next to her was moving. She continued to sit still as a stone waiting for her nerves to calm themselves.
“Nice to meet you, Anne,” she heard as she continued to focus on breathing. She didn’t respond.
McClellan waited for a moment before his voice washed over her. Far too close, much too personal for an employer.
“Were you trying to leave because of him? Please tell me that was for his benefit,” he commanded in a low voice.
Her only response was to swallow with a slightly audible gulp.
“Hmm? Come on, coineanach, speak.”
“Coin-ea…what?” she mumbled before she could stop herself.
“Coineanach. It’s Scots Gaelic for rabbit. That’s you.”
“I’m a rabbit,” she stated completely deadpan.
“It’s the perfect description. Cautious, skittish, extremely cute and yet when faced with a potential predator, you freeze up like no one could see you. It’s ridiculous, and yet…ack, girl is there nothing that isn’t intriguing about you?”
How do you respond to that?
She didn’t have to. The bartender chose that moment to place their plates in front of them at the bar. Her Chicken Marsala, his…plop of brown…something.
“There you go. Can I get you anything else?” the bartender asked as he placed a linen napkin rolled bundle next to the plates. Her eyes were still affixed to the strange concoction gracing the plate next to hers.
“Two more drinks, please,” she heard next to her.
“No! I wanted this to go,” she stated as her eyes connected to the young bartender’s.
“Paul? She will not get this to go. And she’ll have another glass of wine. And I’m paying,” McClellan’s voice was authoritatively commanding.
“Yes, sir.”
Of all the…who the hell did he think he was? She silently fumed before speaking.
“Paul? I distinctly remember asking for this to go. I do not want another glass of wine and I insist you charge me for this meal.” Anne piped up in an equally commanding tone.
“Umm…” The bartender swiveled his eyes from one to the other and back again.
“Paul? Ignore her. Just get the drinks and I’ll deal with her.”
The bartender immediately complied, almost as if he were relieved to remove himself from the tension crackling between them.
“I want to go,” she half-growled.
“And I want you to stay,” his voice was much gentler now. “Tell you what, Anne. We’ll just sit here, eat our meals – we don’t even have to converse if that works for you, eh?”
She stared at the food artfully arranged on her plate. It looked delicious and she was definitely hungry.
“Fine,” she breathed out after a few moments of debate. Besides, she couldn’t exactly go back to the house quite yet, what with Irene still lurking about.
“Good, then.” He reached out and grabbed the napkin wrapped bundle and removed the utensils hidden within before placing the linen on his lap.
Her eyes inadvertently crept to the mound on his plate, watching as his fork scooped a small portion of it. It smelled about as bad as it looked.
“Mmmm. Not bad. Do you want to try it?” She heard next to her as she un-wrapped her own utensils.
“I thought we weren’t speaking…” she practically grumbled.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Here, try it. It looks like jobby, smells like jobby, but it’s actually quite good,” he stated as he nudged the plate to the left.
“What is it?” she asked as her face took on a grimace of disgust.
“Haggis. Try it.”
Well, that would explain the Special…
“No thanks. I’m fine with this,” she stated as she focused her attention on her own plate.
“You dunno what you’re missing.”
“That’s fine. Consider me blissfully ignorant. Stop talking,” she responded without looking at him.
It took a moment to register. Had anyone ever spoken to him like that in his adult years? Hell no. They wouldn’t dare. And yet here she was, this little slip of a woman seated next to him, demurely cutting her chicken and ignoring him quite effectively. It should infuriate him, right? But, no. If anything, it was…arousing.
He blew out a silent breath and focused his attention on the plate in front of him. Let her eat in peace. He scooped up another small portion, trying to will himself not to look at her or speak which was proving to be a near impossible task. This subtle tug of war was stimulating, reminding of him of the thrill of negotiating in a boardroom.
And he always won. He would win this too…
Win what, exactly?
Paul arrived with fresh glasses for both of them, prompting her to take one last sip from the glass in front of her before he took it. Maybe it would loosen her up? Or maybe it would loosen her tongue to the point of complete unfiltered rudeness? Sad to say, but he was almost looking forward to that for some insane reason.
He was unaccustomed to this situation. Once women knew who he was, or rather, what he was worth – they were extremely friendly. Way too friendly, and yet the woman next to him…well, to say she was unimpressed would be the understatement of the year.
“I had that last night. It was verra good,” he indicated her plate between mouthfuls.
No response. No surprise.
He continued to eat, effectively tamping down the urge to look at her or speak again until their plates were finished. She pushed her plate away from her a while later, revealing about half of the food still intact on it. The portions were huge anyway and she was a wee thing at that, he mused before taking one last bite and pushing his own plate away from him.
“Did you like it?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink and finally allowing himself to look at her.
She was looking at her plate. “It was excellent. Just too much,” she answered honestly before grabbing her own glass for a sip. The wine warmed her senses, relaxed her to the point where she should probably stop drinking it. A glance at her watch indicated she still had twenty minutes to waste before I
rene was out the house. There was no way she would go back a minute before the two hours was up.
“So do you come out to eat often?” He was making small talk. Really bad small talk, but this was uncharted territory here.
“No. I like to cook but the house was infiltrated by Satan. I had to leave,” she stated on a sigh before her words registered to her own ears. They just sort of slipped out. She blamed it on the wine.
“What? Did you just say…what?” he responded, surprised by the fact that she even responded at all coupled with her strange answer.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sure she’s a wonderful person…” she stated with a sarcastic edge.
“Who?”
“The cleaning lady,” she stated simply before taking another sip of wine.
“Irene.”
Her eyes flew to his at the name uttered from his lips. “You know her?”
“Of course I know her. Everyone knows Irene. She probably cleans half the houses in this town. She cleans my house,” he answered with an added shrug. “I love Irene. She’s my fourth favorite person in the world,” he stated confidently and added a warm smile.
Who are the first three? She thought but caught herself before the words slipped from her mouth. Why would she even care anyway?
“I must have a thing for crotchety women,” he added softly as eyes seemed to intensify on hers once again. There was no doubt that he was referring to her. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
“At any rate, she’s not so bad once you get to know her. She’s just testing you out. Frankly, she was a bit scary when I first met her but I wore her down. She’s a sweetheart. At least to me,” he stated.
Irene, a sweetheart? Highly doubtful.
“I don’t want to talk about Irene. Let’s talk about you,” he added. She fought the urge to cringe visibly.
Let’s not.
“So Anne, what are you working on?”
I have absolutely no idea. In fact, I’m not actually sure why you hired me…
A small shrug was her answer.
“Don’t like to talk about work?”
You could say that. Another shrug.
“Hmm. All right then. What do you think about the town? It’s nice, eh?”
Absolute Zero Page 8