“Thank you, Stefan. Should we get a glass of wine at the bar?” Brandon briefly placed his hand on Cassidy’s lower back, and she felt a jolt of heat shoot through her spine.
“Sure, sounds good.” She hoped her face hadn’t turned red.
Oh my God, he touched me.
The bartender waved as they approached the bar. “Hey, Brandon. Welcome back. Can I get you the usual?”
“Sounds good, Peter.” Brandon looked at Cassidy. “What would you like to drink?”
“A glass of sauvignon blanc would be nice,” she said with a shy smile.
“Sauvignon blanc and a vodka martini, coming right up,” Peter said.
As Peter poured their drinks, Cassidy glanced over her shoulder to take in the scene around them. The restaurant was bustling, the tables filled with well-heeled couples and groups engaged in lively conversation. The muted color palette of the room was punctuated by oversized vases of fresh flowers, and classical music played softly in the background.
She turned back to Brandon just as he handed her a glass of wine. “Nice place, isn’t it?”
Cassidy nodded. “It’s gorgeous. My dad was right.”
Stefan returned and led them to their table, whose location in the center of the room somehow made Cassidy feel welcome and special. Seconds after he left, a crisply dressed waiter appeared in his place.
“Brandon, it’s nice to see you again. I’ll be right back with some water,” the waiter said.
“Thanks, Pierre.”
Cassidy tilted her head toward Brandon as Pierre slipped away. “Are you on a first-name basis with everyone here?”
He laughed. “I told you this is my favorite restaurant. I used to come here three times a week.”
“Three times a week? That’s more than most people exercise. Why did you come here so often?”
He shrugged. “When Juliette and I first split up, I moved into an apartment right around the corner from here. Cooking for one after cooking for a family of four was a little depressing, so for a while I just avoided the kitchen altogether.”
She felt her cheeks flush and regretted having asked the question. “Oh. I’m sorry. I was just…I was just curious.”
He smiled. “Don’t apologize. The food here is amazing. You’ll love it.”
“So how’s the book coming?” Brandon asked.
Cassidy stabbed a brussels sprout with her fork. “It’s coming. I’m struggling a bit to stay focused, but it’s getting there.” She didn’t tell him he was the main reason for her lack of concentration. She wanted to be open and honest with him, but that was one piece of information she was determined to keep to herself. At least for now.
“Are you ever going to tell me what it’s about? I am paying for this dinner, you know.”
She laughed. “OK, fine. It’s about an ambitious young advertising executive whose professional life is on track, but her personal life is falling off the rails a bit.”
“Advertising, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you use to work in advertising?”
“I did. First in San Francisco and then in New York.”
“But you quit the New York job to become a writer, correct?”
She nodded. “Eventually.”
He scratched his chin. “So how much of the book is autobiographical?”
She took a sip of water. “To be honest, not all that much.”
“You sure about that? I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
She smiled. “I’ve found that yes, when I write a book it always begins with a small piece of me and my life, but then once I get into the story, it starts to take on a life of its own, and it usually evolves into something I’d never imagined at the outset. Plus things pop up in my own life along the way, and they sometimes have an impact too.”
“Like what?”
“For example, on the plane today I met a young woman who used to work in advertising but hated it, and I know our conversation will end up leaving a footprint on the book in some way or another. I can just tell.”
“What did she say?”
“I can’t remember exactly, but I wrote it down.”
“Ah, yes, the sticky notes.”
She pointed at him. “Yes, the sticky notes. Thank God for the sticky notes. Anyhow, when one of my books is finally signed, sealed, and delivered, I’m always amazed that I actually wrote it, because I have no idea where a lot of it came from.”
“That must be a strange feeling.”
“Yep, it’s very strange, but it’s happened several times now. Anyhow, I know that was a roundabout way of answering your question of how much my books are autobiographical, I guess you could say they are about my life…if my life were much more exciting.”
He picked up his glass. “We’ve been over this. Your life is very exciting.”
“Says you. I disagree.”
“Then we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
She held up her glass as if in a toast. “Agreed. And what did you say when you were in New York? That you liked watching good people win? Here’s to that, in books and in real life too.”
He smiled at her. “I did say that I like watching good people win. Your memory is better than you think.”
“My memory has a mind of its own. I can remember the name of my second-grade teacher, but not where I parked the car.”
He scratched his chin again. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t kidding. Your life seems very glamorous, at least to me it does.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Says the man who just asked me if I took a nap today.”
He chuckled. “I like that you make me laugh. Have I ever told you that?”
She speared another brussels sprout and pointed it at him. “You may have, but with my memory, I probably forgot.”
“I like that you make me laugh. Have I ever told you that?”
“Now you’re making me laugh. Actually, I’m glad that I can make you laugh in person. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m much better with the written word than in real-life conversations.”
“I wouldn’t say that at all. I think you’re pretty great in both.”
She smiled and put a hand to her cheek, which felt a bit warm. “Now you’re making me laugh and blush. If you think I’m funny, you should meet my brother. Once, in high school, we went to Denny’s, and he made Patti laugh so hard she passed out.”
“She really passed out?”
Cassidy nodded and picked up her water glass. “Right there on the floor. It was amazing. We had to call the paramedics.”
“Laughter is good. I went a long time there without laughing.” A shadow flickered across his eyes, and she was startled by the sudden shift in his tone.
She didn’t respond immediately, not sure how to do so. She assumed he was referring to his marriage, but she didn’t know what the appropriate reaction was. Or was he referring to something else?
Should she ask him?
She took a long sip of water, looking down, staring at nothing, saying nothing. Though the room was buzzing with lively chatter all around them, at that moment she felt as if the two of them were in a vacuum.
After an extended and undeniably awkward pause, she lifted her gaze and regained eye contact with him.
“I’m sorry, Brandon,” she said in a near whisper.
As if sensing the awkwardness between them, Pierre appeared out of nowhere to refill their water glasses. The interruption served its purpose, and Brandon seemed to recover from his momentary dip in mood.
“What’s your middle name?” he asked.
She was surprised by the question, which, after his dark comment, seemed more than a bit out of left field. But at least they were on a new subject, and she felt herself begin to relax.
“Leigh. It’s my moth
er’s maiden name. What about you?”
“Dean.”
She tensed.
“Are you OK?”
She took a sip of water. “I’m fine, I swear. It’s just that Dean was the name of my ex-boyfriend, so that caught me a little off guard. It’s not often you hear that name.” She forced a smile.
“Dean’s the guy you told me about in New York?”
She nodded.
“I have to wonder what he was thinking, letting you go like that.”
She smiled and set her water on the table. “Thanks.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“I could wonder the same thing about your ex.”
“I have my flaws, believe me. Divorced men aren’t easy.”
She wondered what flaws could offset being so nice…and smart…and attractive. But instead of asking him to elaborate, she decided to take the conversation in a less hazardous direction. “I haven’t dated many divorced guys, but at our age I think meeting anyone to date is hard. Especially in New York City.”
“Why is that? I would think it would be easy, given how many people live there.”
“I think part of it is because of my profession, which is about as solitary as it gets, but also I think meeting people is hard because everyone’s so busy, like ordering-their-groceries-online busy, or taking-a-week-to-reply-to-an-e-mail busy. Have you ever ordered your groceries online?”
“I didn’t even know you could do that.”
She tapped her palm on the table. “Well, there you go. You probably meet more women than I do men simply because you shop at Whole Foods.”
“Maybe, but when I meet women at Whole Foods, they’re usually wearing workout clothes. I’m not a fan of that.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “You don’t like it when women work out?”
He shook his head. “I don’t like it when women who don’t work out wear expensive workout gear as regular clothes. It’s like false advertising.”
She smiled, relieved that the conversation had turned playful again. “Ah…I see what you’re saying. So it bugs you when women wear yoga pants to a nice dinner, for example?”
“Exactly. What is that all about?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. I love my sweatpants dearly, but I don’t wear them to dinner. Unless it’s at my brother’s house, of course.” She’d actually worn sweatpants on the plane ride earlier today, but that was another piece of information she’d keep to herself. For now.
He picked up his glass. “So what about you? Do you have a pet peeve about men?”
“You mean something that isn’t an indicator of intelligence or character yet might in fact preclude me from dating that person?”
He laughed. “Well put.”
She sat up straight. “Well, along that vein, I’d have to say grammar, particularly the misuse of pronouns. I know I’m superpicky because I’m a writer, but I can’t stand it when a man says something like ‘let’s keep this between you and I.’ Or ‘this is a great opportunity for you and I.’ Why do people do that? Why?”
“I might be in trouble. My grammar’s terrible.”
“No it’s not!” She realized she’d practically shouted and lowered her voice. “Believe me, after all those text messages, I would know. I’ve been paying attention.” In fact, she could tell by Brandon’s text messages how smart he was, and that just made him more attractive to her.
“I’m glad to hear I passed the test. Were you an English major in college?”
“Yep. What about you?”
“Economics. You know, I had a crush on you in high school.”
The non sequitur caught Cassidy off guard, and she felt her neck get hot. Was he always like this in person, changing the subject between playful and serious on a dime? Before she could respond, Pierre came to clear their plates.
“How were your meals?” he asked with a polite smile.
“Delicious, as always. Thanks, Pierre,” Brandon said.
Cassidy leaned back in her seat and put a hand on her stomach. “Unbelievable. But oh my God, I’m stuffed.”
Brandon shook his head. “You can’t be stuffed. We have to split the chocolate fondant. You’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“That good?”
“Better. If it’s not rocky road ice cream, I rarely eat dessert. But here? Always.”
“Rocky road ice cream?”
“It’s my one vice when it comes to sweets. When I start eating it, I can’t stop.”
She laughed. “I’m like that with marshmallows. I completely lose control.”
“Losing control can sometimes be a good thing.” He held her gaze, and she practically stopped breathing.
“So…are you interested?” he asked, still maintaining eye contact.
“Interested in what?” It came out as a near squeak.
He pointed to the dessert menu. “The fondant.”
She blinked and sat up straight. “Oh, of course. Sure, I’m in, but you may have to wheel me out of here.”
He gestured for Pierre. “It would be my pleasure.”
As they waited for the valet to bring around Brandon’s car, Cassidy gave him a curious look. He and the driver had engaged in a brief conversation when Brandon handed him his ticket.
“You know the valet too?”
“Yep.”
“So you basically know everyone here.”
He laughed. “Yep.”
She put a hand on her hip. “I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
She swallowed. “OK, this may be a little out of line, but do you bring a lot of women here?” Truth be told, despite the attention heaped on them, she was beginning to wonder if maybe tonight hadn’t been as special as she’d initially thought, if maybe the staff was so nice to her only because Brandon was such a good customer. Could it be that she was the flavor of the month? Had she misread his intentions all this time?
He quickly shook his head. “I’ve never brought a date here.”
“You haven’t?”
He paused briefly, then gave her a half smile. “Cassidy, you don’t bring just any woman to your home base.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Good to know.”
The closer they got to Cassidy’s parents’ house, the more anxious she got.
And excited.
And nervous.
She began to nibble on her thumbnail, than yanked it away and interlaced her hands on her lap.
Oh my God.
I can’t believe this moment is finally here.
He’s really going to kiss me.
Brandon pulled up in front of the driveway and put the car in park.
“Here we are,” he said.
She nodded and looked over at him. “Casa Lane. Do you…want to come inside for a bit?” She could feel her heart beating and willed it to slow down.
“I’d love to, but I can’t.”
Her face fell. “Oh.”
He squeezed the steering wheel. “I have a meeting with a new client tomorrow morning that I haven’t prepped enough for because we’ve been swamped with other cases, and I’ve had the boys the last two nights. If I want to keep from making a total ass of myself, I need to be up by five to do some reading before I get the boys ready for school.”
A tiny alarm bell rang in a far corner of her brain, but she did her best to ignore it and forced a smile. “Got it.”
“I’m sorry, Cassidy. Things have just been really crazy lately.”
“Don’t worry about it. I like that you take your job seriously.” She glanced at the blinking lights all over the dashboard. “You apparently take your cars seriously too. I feel like I’m in the cockpit of a seven-forty-seven right now.”
He laughed. “I do like my gadgets. Can I walk y
ou to the door?”
“Sure.”
They exited the car and slowly began walking toward the front steps of the house. She tried to think of something to say but couldn’t come up with a single word, so she remained quiet and kept her gaze fixed on the pavement.
The silence was palpable.
When they reached the door, Brandon cleared his throat and looked at her.
“I had a really nice time tonight.”
She smiled. “Me too. Thanks so much for dinner, and dessert. You were right, it was out of this world.”
“I’m glad we finally got to spend some time together in person.”
“Me too. After all those text messages and phone calls, in a way it’s like I know you so well, but at the same time I don’t really know you at all,” she said.
He didn’t respond right away, and she looked at the ground, wondering if it had been a mistake to say that. His demeanor was almost businesslike, not at all what she’d expected given everything he’d said to her in texts and on the phone, as recently as last night. And now that she thought about it, except for when he’d briefly put his hand on her lower back, he hadn’t touched her all evening, not even an accidentally-on-purpose arm brush. Had she done something wrong? She wondered if maybe he was less comfortable expressing his feelings in person. She certainly was.
“Did I tell you how pretty you look tonight?”
She looked up and smiled, his comment silencing the chatter in her brain, the doubt retreating as quickly as it had appeared. “I don’t think so. But then again, maybe I forgot.”
“You’re an extremely attractive woman, Cassidy Leigh Lane.”
“Thank you, Brandon Dean Forrester.”
She stood there on the step, waiting for him to say something.
Or, better yet, do something.
Now was the time.
But he didn’t say anything.
And he didn’t do anything.
He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, looking at her.
The nerves came back once again, and she cast her gaze downward.
Why is this so awkward?
After a few more excruciating seconds, she cracked. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes. “Are you ever going to kiss me?” she whispered.
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