Debbi Rawlins - A Glimpse of Fire

“I haven’t told him anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Wendy studied her with an annoying mixture of curiosity and concern. “You don’t trust him enough to tell him anything about yourself but you’re willing to date him.”

“It’s not about trust. And I’m not dating him. It’s one time. Jeez.” Dallas sipped her coffee and took a mental time-out.

“I don’t like the idea of you seeing him alone.”

“We won’t be alone, Mom. That’s why I chose a restaurant.”

“Which one?”

“Like I’m going to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you spying on me.”

“Would I do something like that?”

In a New York minute. Dallas didn’t bother to answer. Only gave her a look.

“Okay, what if I promise not to?”

“What does it matter which restaurant?”

“If he turns out to be a serial killer and no one ever sees you again, I need something to tell the police.”

Dallas groaned. “He’s not a serial killer. He works for Webber and Thornton Advertising, for goodness’ sakes. If anything, he’s too conservative for me.”

“Really?” Wendy smiled. “So, why are you going tonight?”

Dallas stared blankly at her friend. The truth was she had no idea.

SHE’D LIED. TO WENDY AND to herself. As soon as she saw him, Dallas knew why she’d agreed to come. She wanted him. Even for just one night. The situation presented the perfect opportunity. Anonymous sex. Behavior she normally wasn’t into. But something about him really drew her. Sparked a need she’d suppressed for a long time.

He stood near the register, stoically watching the guys making sushi behind the bar. He’d beaten her to the restaurant. And she was five minutes early.

After spending more time deciding what to wear than she’d care to admit, she’d chosen her newest pair of low-riding jeans and a light blue stretchy top that exposed about an inch and a half of her midriff and showed off her new tan, courtesy of Trudie. Casual but not sloppy.

Eric had dressed up a little more, in khakis and a hunter-green designer polo shirt, his tasseled loafers perfectly polished. She glanced down at her sequined flip-flops. At least her toes were polished; an electric pink, again courtesy of Trudie.

His fascinated interest in the sushi-making process came to an abrupt halt and he took a step back. The chef presented a plate of intimidating hamachi-and-eel sushi he’d been working on to a couple at the bar. Dallas smiled, and taking pity on Eric, she moved toward him.

“Hi.”

He turned to her with relief in his eyes. “You showed up.”

“Of course. I suggested the place, remember?”

He half smiled, and she realized he wasn’t talking about the sushi.

The petite Japanese hostess returned from seating another couple and grabbed two menus off the counter. “How many?” she asked without a trace of an accent.

“Two,” Dallas said, “and we’d prefer a table in the back if you have one.”

“Let’s see…”

While the woman searched the crowded restaurant, Eric whispered, “We can still make a break. There’s a steak house right around the corner.”

Dallas laughed. “Behave yourself and I won’t make you eat anything raw.”

“Follow me, please.” The woman led them toward the back, her waist-long black hair swaying and shimmering like expensive silk as she wove in between tables. “Is this all right?” she asked, waving a perfectly manicured hand with long red fingernails at a table for two in the far corner.

“Perfect.” Eric flashed her a grin that put a sparkle in her dark eyes.

“Enjoy your meal.” She left the menus on the table and moved back toward the front as if she were gliding on air.

Dallas sighed as she took her seat. She really didn’t mind being so tall, liked it usually, but sometimes she envied the seemingly effortless femininity of petite women.

Eric sat, too, his back toward the other diners. He didn’t pick up his menu, only stared at her. Not in a rude way but enough to make her uneasy.

She cleared her throat. “Do you trust me to order for you?”

“Is this where the ‘I’ll be gentle’ part comes in?”

“I thought you didn’t like gentle.”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

His lips curved as he thoughtfully studied her for a moment. “So, that’s how you wanna play.”

She smiled back. “I’m not playing.”

Challenge flickered in his eyes, but before he could deliver a comeback, the waitress appeared for their drink orders. He asked for a scotch, and Dallas ordered white wine. But that would be it for her. Work started at seven tomorrow.

“You come here often?” he asked, glancing around at the other diners, mostly tourists, mostly couples but a few families.

“This is only the third time, but the food is good and reasonable considering they advertise in one of those tourist magazines.” She stopped herself from volunteering that it was also close to her apartment.

“Yeah, I was surprised you chose a tourists’ hangout. I figured you must live nearby.”

She smiled and picked up the menu even though she knew exactly what she’d order. “You’d better have a look at the menu.”

“I already know what I want.”

The huskiness in his tone made her look up. She met his eyes and there was little doubt as to what he meant. She held his gaze but only for a moment before she had to look away. He didn’t scare her. She frightened herself. Never before had the reckless urge to shun common sense been so strong. To jump in headfirst and consider the consequences later.

What the hell was it about him that made her want to be foolish? She pretended to study the menu, hoping her ridiculous desire to skip dinner and go straight to a hotel room would pass.

“What are you going to have?” she asked, keeping her eyes lowered to the menu.

“The teriyaki rib eye steak.”

“You big chicken,” she said, shaking her head at him.

“Hey, it’s not like I’d ask them to leave off the teriyaki sauce.”

They both laughed.

She laid down the menu. “How adventurous of you.”

“You have no idea.”

“Where are you from?”

“The Pittsburgh area. And you?”

She’d expected the return question and saw no harm in answering. “Right here. I was born at New York General, although I grew up mostly in Tarrytown. It’s about forty minutes away.”

“I know the area. Nice.”

She nodded. “So green and pretty. I miss it but I like living in the city.”

“Which part is that?”

She smiled. “How long have you lived here?”

“In Manhattan, about five years.” His gaze roamed her face, lingered on her mouth. “I think our drinks are coming. Ready to order dinner?”

“Are you in a hurry?”

He gave her that sexy look again. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

THEY LEFT THE RESTAURANT AN hour later. The sun had set, but there was still another half hour of light left. No way would Eric let this evening end. He still didn’t know her last name or anything else about her. Other than she was from Tarrytown but now lived in the city.

Of course, knowing she’d grown up in Tarrytown provided more insight. He could safely bet his Rolex that her family had some money. The upper-middle-class community was a far cry from the steel-mill neighborhood where he’d grown up. Hell, even the Rockefellers had an estate there.

Although he didn’t need particulars to know she came from a genteel background. Breeding showed in every step she took. The softness in her voice. The graceful way she moved. Modeling, of course, gave her polish, but she had her own natural panache that couldn’t be learned or faked.