He glanced into his water glass, then picked it up. “Our family dog, Canyon, is sick. It’s been tough on everyone.”
So David was close enough with his family to share concern over their pet and possibly consider it his own. “I’m sorry.”
I wanted to ask more, but getting deeper into topics irrelevant to the article meant getting to know him better for no reason. And answering more questions about myself, too.
The waiter set down two stacked burgers with leafy side salads. My stomach grumbled, and I wasted no time diving in. I’d almost finished my salad when I glanced up.
David grinned. “You eat salad like it’s your last meal.”
“My dad always made me eat my salad before I got to the good stuff, so I’m used to inhaling it.”
“You know your dad isn’t here, right?”
“It sounds stupid when I say it out loud. But it’s a good habit, so why break it?”
“Italians often serve salad after the main courses,” he said.
“Doesn’t work for me,” I said, chewing. I shook my head. “After a burger, I usually just want a nap.”
He laughed. “Interesting.”
“What is?”
“Just soaking up everything I can before you cut me off.”
I paused and casually stabbed the last bite of lettuce with my fork, suddenly conscious of my eating habits. My notepad still had only three words.
Hobbies: sailing, swimming,
“You’ve worked at Pierson/Greer eight years, right?” I asked.
“Ah, so you at least looked me up this time.”
I took a bite of my hamburger, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head with a mouthful of juicy patty, grilled onions and mushrooms, creamy avocado, and tangy sauce. “Wow.”
“That’s a look of pure satisfaction.” Before I could stop him, he reached over and swiped a smear of sauce from the corner of my lips with his thumb. “Sweet,” he murmured.
My cheeks warmed at his overt display, and I picked a paper napkin from a dispenser to wipe my mouth. “Is Arnaud married?” I asked to keep us on topic. “Single?”
David licked his thumb. “Why? Are you considering him for the article also?”
I almost choked. Creepy lingering stares didn’t sell magazines. “God, no.”
He laughed. “Arnaud’s single. Eternally.”
“Must be a hazard of the job,” I said, chancing a glance at David from under my lashes. He’d said something similar on the balcony about not having time for women. If I could get him to open up without technicallyasking, then I wouldn’t have to reciprocate, right?
“It is,” he said. “We work constantly. Developing a meaningful relationship takes time we don’t have.”
“I get that,” I said. “The firm’s always sending Bill out of town since we’re in the no-kids club.”
“Right.” David glanced away. “Women say they can handle my schedule, but they always want more.”
I tilted my head. “We should leave that out of the article. If you’re not ready to give more—”
“I am.” His eyes returned to mine with renewed heat. “Like I said in the car, I’m not just ready to give more. I have everything to give—to the right woman.”
To aluckywoman.
