"Would you please give us a couple more minutes?"
Meghan heard the polite request and the waitress’s equally polite response. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, clutched her proverbial big girl panties and tugged them up. With emphasis. She drew a deep breath and straightened her back, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes before she gave what she hoped was a passible, pleasant smile. It felt more like a request for stay of execution, but hey, potato, patatoe. "I believe I have crashed your dinner. You're not Carl, are you?"
The man laughed and extended his hand. "Rio North."
Meghan reached out and took his warm hand shaking it politely. "Meg, Meghan Williams."
"I take it you are on a blind date?" He held her hand for a moment longer and then released it slowly.
She glanced over at the man she assumed her sister had set her up with and watched as he tossed downed a mug of beer without taking a break or a breath. "Yeah, but I think I may be a no-show." She felt rather than saw Rio follow the direction of her stare.
"Ah, well here's an idea. I'm eating alone, which I hate, especially since it is my first night home in over two years. Why don't you join me?"
Meghan felt her eyes widen in surprise. She shook her head quickly and reached to gather her purse. "Oh, I couldn't."
He held out a hand, stilling her action. "Why?"
"Well..." She hesitated as she searched her mind for anything to say.
"See? Not one single reason. Of course, you could go, but..." He nodded at the wine on the table and his grin was devastatingly handsome. "You would probably have to fight traffic to get home, and I bet that glass of wine would taste really good about now."
Meghan flicked her eyes between the wine, her unbelievable table mate, and the man across the room. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at the sexy man across from her. "Why are you here alone? No offense, but someone like him..." She made a small motion with her finger toward the man across the room. "I can see eating alone. You? I know women who would kill to be seen with someone like you."
His eyes popped wide, like he'd never before heard what she'd just said. As if.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but as I said, I just got back into town."
She cocked her head and waited. The jury was still out on whether or not she was going to stay and have dinner with Mr. Rio North. The other man? No, that wasn’t going to happen. She didn't want to go across the room. That man was typical of who her sister usually provided as a potential date for her. No, she'd have to figure out a way to let her supposed date down without making a scene or maybe apologize and claim she was unavoidably detained.
She glanced back at the handsome man across from her and inquired, "Why were you gone for two years and how did you end up eating alone?" She had zero right to ask those questions, but hey, if she was going to stay, she should know something about him. Right? Right.
"I was in the Navy, stationed in San Diego until a few days ago. My folks are in the Hamptons at a wedding, so I'm on my own for my first night back, or at least I was alone." Rio spread his hands out. "I'd love to have you join me for dinner. Please?"
Meg put her purse down. Why not. "You know, I think I'd like that."
He reached for the menu she’d abandoned and handed it back to her. "So, tell me, Meg, what do you do for a living?"
"Me? Well, I'm currently an administrative assistant." She bounced her eyes up to him from the menu and laughed. "That is a glorified way to say I'm a lackey for an overbearing taskmaster who kept me late tonight because he forgot to forward several aspects of a project he is working on." She glanced at the menu and placed it on the crisp white tablecloth. "So, his emergency became my overtime."
"What does your taskmaster do to make a dime?" He’d lifted his drink, a whiskey or some kind of brown liquor, and swirled the contents almost mindlessly.
"Ah, he is really someone I don't want to talk about." She shook her head because N.R. Honeycutt was the devil, and he didn't wear Prada, so there was no happily ever after going to come from the association. She was actively seeking other employment. Unfortunately, she hadn't found anything, but the search was ongoing.
"A real winner, huh?" Rio chuckled and took a sip of his drink.
"Blue Ribbon, first-class type, but he pays well." She chuckled. "What did you do in the Navy?"
"I'm a SEAL."
Her wine glass froze halfway to her mouth. "Shut the front door!" She glanced around because her comment was way too loud and turned a few heads in their direction.
"Serious as a heart attack." He lifted a hand like he was a boy scout or something.
"No way. You're making that up."
"No, actually I was assigned to SEAL Team 3." He lowered his gaze. "I'm going to miss it." The soft way he spoke lent credibility to his story, but damn… a SEAL?
She took a sip of her wine and watched him for a moment, certain he was lost in his own thoughts. Clearing her throat, she caught his attention. "Why did you stop?"
"Family issues." His eyes flicked away from hers, and he gave a resigned smile. "I need to be here."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"It is pretty obvious you'd rather be there than here." She shrugged. "It would seem, at least to me, you're giving up a lot to come home. So, I'm sorry." The disappointment and ongoing sense of unhappiness at not being able to have what you wanted was something Meg knew intimately.
The waitress walked up, and Meg smiled at her when she asked about her selection. "I'll have the grilled chicken salad, no croutons and the dressing on the side."
The woman jotted her order down before she asked, "Can I get a refill on the drinks?"
"I'm fine. Meghan, would you like some more wine?" Rio's smile took her breath away... and obviously the waitress' too, because the woman gave a soft sigh.
He is out of your league. For the second time since she'd sat down, the thought flitted through her mind. Besides, he was probably a playboy, or hell, he could have a girlfriend, fiancée, or even a wife waiting for him. Yup, that would be her luck.
"No, thank you. I'm good." She glanced at his left ring finger. Vacant and no obvious tan lines. She shot a quick look over at her actual date for the night, Carl. He tapped his fingers against the table and stared at the front door, clearly agitated. He flagged down his waitress even though she had a tray full of food and demanded his check. Loudly.
Her cell phone vibrated in her purse. She could feel it against her ankle. There was no way she was going to answer it because she knew it was her sister. Nope, she wasn't ruining her happy little diversion from reality.
"Looks as if Carl is leaving. What time were you supposed to meet?"
Meghan sighed and shook her head. "Obviously a while ago. I'm sorry, I feel like a heel. I should go over and apologize." She bit her bottom lip and glanced over at the frustrated man again.
Rio leaned forward. "Hey, going over now will do nothing, and he'll cause a scene. Well, more of a scene than he has already caused. I'd have to defend your honor. That would probably lead to him taking a swing at me, which in turn I would counter, and he'd end up with a broken nose. The cops would be called. All manner of havoc would ensue, and it would do nothing to lessen his frustration. Send him a text tomorrow and apologize. Tell him you were detained at work and your cell died."
"Would that work on you?" Meg couldn't hide the smile at her dinner partner's vivid imagination.
"What, the text? I'm sure I've had worse brush offs." He shrugged and winked at her.
“Yeah, no.” She rolled her eyes. She couldn't imagine any woman brushing this man off.
"Look, I'm a firm believer that all things happen for a reason. I needed company and a distraction tonight. You needed to be rescued from a blind date that obviously would have gone badly. All in all, two winners—" he waved his finger between them before he glanced briefly at Carl, "—and one loser isn't a bad score."
"I agree, because we are on the winning team, b
ut I still feel bad about leaving him dangling." She wasn't a mean person by nature, and having the man upset sat poorly with her.
"Is he a close to your sister… friend… mother? Whoever you said set up the date."
"Mindy. She is my sister. I'm her project. I can usually hold her off for six months or so, then I just lose all my steam and let her talk me into another one of her attempts to set me up."
"So how many blind dates has she set you up on?"
Meg held up three fingers. "This would have been the third." She pulled her fingers back down after noticing she needed to redo her polish.
Rio lifted his hands and proclaimed, "Well there you go?"
What? She wasn't tracking. "I'm sorry?"
"Third time's a charm." He waggled his eyebrows at her, and they both laughed. Across the dining room, Carl stood up, loudly scraping his wooden chair across the tile floor. He plopped down some cash on the table and stalked out of the restaurant. Yeah, she was going to send a text. No matter how he appeared, he didn't deserve to be stood up. God, she felt horrible. She'd deal with Carl and her sister's wrath tomorrow, and she’d handle any repercussions she received from either of them.
"Hey, you okay?"
She blinked and tuned back in to the man sitting across the table from her. "What? Sorry, yes, I'm fine. So, tell me about being a SEAL." Meg wasn't entirely sure the man was actually one. If that was a pick-up line, it was an awesome one, and she'd really like it to be true. Being lied to, even on a once-in-a-lifetime date with a real prince charming, wasn't her idea of a good time.
The waitress arrived, stopping his answer. Her salad was placed in front of her before the waitress served Rio. Meg looked longingly at his ribeye steak and baked potato smothered in all the fixings. It smelled amazing.
When the waitress left, Rio cut into his steak and took a bite. He closed his eyes and made a happy noise. "I always come here for dinner when I make it back to town. Best steak in the city."
She smiled and speared her romaine and chicken. "I'll take your word for it. You were telling me about being a SEAL?"
Rio swallowed and took a drink of his water. "Well, the training sucked, but it taught me a lot about myself. It reinforced that I was stronger than I believed I was, and I was part of something bigger than just myself." He cut another piece of beef and stabbed it with his fork but before he lifted it, he seemed to lose himself in thought. Finally, he shrugged. "I was assigned to SEAL Team 3. We were primarily based in the Middle East. We specialized in desert and urban warfare. Other than that, I can't go into any specifics."
Meg dipped her fork tines into the dressing before gathering another bite of greens. "How many people are on a team?"
"There are eight in my unit. Z-man is the leader of the pack, then there is Rocket, Kirk, Dutch, Nitro, T-bone, and Hawk." He chuckled. "They are amazing, weird and certifiably insane."
"Those can't be their real names. Nicknames?”
“More than that, but yeah.”
“What’s yours?”
“Compass.”
She blinked trying to figure out why he’d be called that.
He chuckled and pointed to himself. “A Compass always points north. My last name is North.”
“Ah, but the other names, there has to be a story behind them, too, right?"
"Ah, true, there is a story behind each one." He took another bite of his food. After he finished, he leaned forward. "You know the saying, if I told you..."
"You'd have to kill me?" She finished for him.
A devilish smile spread across his face. "No. If I told you, they'd kill me."
An involuntary bubble of laughter burst out. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand and glanced around to make sure she hadn't made a fool of herself. After ensuring she wasn't being evicted for her horse laugh, she replied, "Well we can't have that." Her purse vibrated again, and she steadfastly ignored it. “It” being her sister or Carl… or her arrogant twit of a boss… but all three of them could wait. She was having fun.
Rio's eyes gleamed with amusement. "I agree. So how long have you lived in Savannah?"
She took a drink of her water before she answered, "I don't live in Savannah anymore. I have an apartment in Pooler, just off the interstate. I moved in there about three years ago. Just after it was built." She liked her little place. “It’s close enough I can make the commute to my office in forty-five minutes. Less if I leave the house at six in the morning. I refuse to give up a minute of my workout time, so I deal with the rush-hour traffic.” Plus, it was just over an hour's drive to her mother's house and her sister's was about five minutes further. Far enough that they'd call before they showed up. Which they never would, but it was a huge selling point.
He sawed off another piece of steak. "Pooler has grown up since I went into the Navy. I remember when it was just the airport out there. Heck the only industry was the Air National Guard Base."
"Right? I used to live here in Savannah, but the prices..." She rolled her eyes and added, "plus the tourism! Remember when Saint Patrick’s Day was a cool holiday for the locals?"
"It isn't anymore?" A sincere look of confusion washed over his expression.
"Nope. Locals head out of town for the holiday."
"Why?"
"Because of the tourists. You can't find a hotel anywhere. The city transforms itself into a massive pub crawl."
He set down his knife and fork and leaned forward. "I still fail to see how that would dissuade you from attending the festivities."
She shook her head and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Let’s just say it isn't fun for a single woman."
"Ah, gotcha." He picked up his silverware again. "It isn't the event as much as the environment that you don't like."
Meg nodded. "Yeah, but I guess if I had a pack of friends to hang out with it would be all right."
"Safety in numbers."
"Exactly."
"So why don't you have a pack of friends?"
"I do, well maybe not a pack, but I have some good friends at work because that is where we spend most of our time. I reference you back to my comment about my taskmaster employer and the fact that most weekends are consumed by one emergency project or another." She stabbed her lettuce, perhaps with a little more gusto than the romaine required. She sniffed and mimicked her boss, "Ms. Williams, you will be needed Saturday and perhaps Sunday, depending on your work ethic."
Rio laughed at her imitation. "Tell me he isn't really like that."
"I can tell you that, but it would be a lie. My boss is miserable to everyone."
"How does he still have a job?"
"Nepotism." Meg lifted her wine glass and emptied it. "Daddy owns the company."
"That has got to suck for you." Rio's eyes popped wide open and he wiped his lips. "Sorry, forgive my language."
Meghan waved him off. "It's true, therefore it's forgiven." She pointed her fork at him. "What are you going to do now that you are out of the Navy?"
"Well, technically, I'm still in the Navy. I'm on terminal leave until the end of July, but I've out-processed, and I don't need to go back to Coronado. I'm just using up my accrued vacation time."
"Okay, but you still have to do something, right?" She watched as Rio flagged down the waitress and ordered another drink. When he offered her more wine, she gratefully accepted another glass.
"I'm going to try to start my own business."
"Really? What kind of business?"
"I want to start a, well for a lack of better terms, a transitional starting point for SEALs when they get out of the service."
"Do you think there is a need for that?"
"I think there is, and it can expand to include the other services' elite fighting forces. I want to be a clearing house for HR departments in the security and intelligence industries. Maybe global logistical entities, too. I will match the skills of the exiting warfighter to the needs of the civilian companies. Sometimes speaking and understandin
g job offers and requirements of corporate America is daunting. We don't necessarily speak the same language even though we are trying to say the same thing. Speaking civilianese after years of acronyms, regulations, instructions, orders and procedures isn't easy. I want to be the intermediary."
"Would you charge the SEALs who use your company?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then you'd charge the HR companies that are shopping for talent?"
"No. Not if I can avoid it."
"So... you're building a public service agency. One that would qualify for 501(c) (3) status. Charity or nonprofit agencies."
He blinked at her several times before he nodded. "Exactly. This is a service that meets a specific need that so far isn't being met."
"There is a litany of hoops you'll have to jump through, and you'll have to find a good grant writer." She set her fork down and cupped her hands under her chin as she regarded him. "I can tell you it won't be easy, and start up can take some serious cash, because grants for startups are hard to come by."
"I have some money." He gave her a quick smile and a wink. "My problem is finding people with the smarts to make it work. Like you."
"Like me?"
"Yes. You. How did you pull that code out of your hat?"
"I've worked several projects for ‘he who shall not be named’, and they were primarily takeovers of charitable institutions." She screwed up her face momentarily. "They are now all for profit. Yeah, go team." She lifted her hands to her shoulders and gave a pumping motion. Corny, but hey, she was nothing if not that.
"Your boss gets better and better."
"Right? A regular saint."
"Would you care for dessert?" The waitress appeared at their table, startling Meghan. Not so much her sudden appearance, but the fact that they'd already finished dinner and she hadn’t noticed. When was the last time that happened? Never. Food had always been her primary consideration. Either the drive to eat everything in sight or in the last two years, counting every calorie.
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