“See anyone you know?” he asked.
She swung back to face him and shook her head. Not least because her mind had been filled with the beauty of his head, not the other diners. She looked around once more, taking in the expensive but minimalist decor and the expensive butnotminimalist clientele. The women’s ears and necks glittered with exquisite jewelry, the men’s dark suits providing a perfect foil to the glamor of the women.
“Nope. Not a soul. It’s weird. I’m not used to being with strangers. Wherever I go I usually know someone. To be honest, I always make sure wherever I go I have people I know with me.”
“Really? Why is that?”
She’d said too much, as usual. She didn’t want to go there—not yet, anyway. She gave an ambiguous shrug. “Oh, you know… Anyway, what about you? Know anyone here?”
He didn’t shift his gaze. “Not that I’ve noticed. I prefer to go where I don’t know people.”
“That’s probably because you haven’t lived long in one place.”
“No, it’s more to do with the fact that I’m not keen on people.”
She opened her eyes wide. “You’re not keen on people?” She shook her head in disbelief. “What does that mean?”
One side of his mouth hitched up in a brief grin. “I prefer my own company. Usually,” he added, in response to her expression. “But, obviously, I want to be with you tonight. Now. Just the two of us.” He looked up in relief as the maître d’ brought over the sparkling water and poured them both a glass. Amber couldn’t help be flattered that David sounded a little nervous, too.
She smiled her thanks at the maître d’, who silently vanished into the shadows, leaving them in an intimate space—just themselves and the shadowy view of the purple-hazed hills and jewel-like lights sprinkled over them.
“So how come you’ve managed to avoid people?”
His brow furrowed in a delicious uncertainty which made him look boyish. “I’m with people all the time, but I do what I have to do and then move on.”
“Wow, that sounds kind of clinical.”
He shrugged. “I suppose it is. But I don’t wish to have a relationship with every person I see. That would be ludicrous.”
“Then I guess I’m ludicrous, because that’s exactly what I want.”
“You’re not ludicrous in the least. Not in theleast,” he repeated.
She narrowed her eyes in playful challenge. “Are you repeating that to try to convince yourself?”
“No. We’re different people, you and I, Amber, and I like you all the more because of it.”
She sat back in her chair in surprise. “Oh! That’s lovely. And unusual. Most people don’t like what they don’t understand.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t understand you, because I think I do. I’m just not like you.”
“So I’m easy to understand, am I?”
“Yes.”
“Well, so are you. I bet I can guess what you’re thinking now.”
“And what’s that?”
She surveyed his face. His eyes warmed with interest as he sat back and surveyed her right back. He wore a tie but his tanned neck was strong and was asking to be kissed. Goodness, she wanted to leap right across the table and taste his neck. She knew what he’d smell like—all male and clean and delicious. She swallowed and his eyes darkened and narrowed slightly.
She cleared her throat and smiled up at the waiter who topped up her glass. “Same as me, I do believe.”
“Then”—he nodded to the waiter—“I think we’re both in for a good night.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, feeling dangerously flirtatious. The glasses clinked as the waiters appeared laden with dishes. “But I haven’t ordered.”
“I’ve already ordered. I spoke to the chef last night and gave him instructions to offer the best vegan menu he could create. I hope you don’t mind?”
