He stared at me, his expression thoughtful, as he continued to eat. “So when do you consider exclusivity?”
Uncertain why he was asking me about all of this, I ate a bite of my mousakka and my eyes nearly crossed. As I chewed, I shrugged again. Once I washed the food down with a sip of water, I answered his question. “It depends on the person I’m seeing. If he broaches it after the second or third date and I’m interested in pursuing a deeper relationship with him, then I agree. Sometimes it takes a few dates to determine our compatibility.” I examined his features. “What about you? Are you dating anyone?”
He shook his head. “I don’t date.”
I glanced around the restaurant then back at him. “Then what are we doing right now?”
He smirked at my sarcastic question. “Well, I don’tusuallydate,” he amended.
“So, what do you do when you want to be exclusive with a woman?” I asked before taking a bite of the potatoes that had come with my They were divine. The flavors of olive oil, lemon, and oregano filled my mouth and I took another bite.
“I ask her if she’s dating anyone else.”
It took my mind a moment to switch gears from the incredible potatoes to his words. Especially since he’d just asked me if I was dating anyone as a prelude to this strange conversation.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I barely knew Landen. Well, at least in a non-professional capacity. I didn’t know what kind of television shows he watched, what music he listened to. I didn’t know anything about his past or what his plans for the future were. At least in a personal sense. I knew all about his business ventures, both past and present, but that wasn’t the same as knowing him and understanding what made him tick.
The only thing I could do was be honest with him.
“We don’t know each other very well, Landen,” I said carefully. But I kept my eyes on his. I wanted him to see my sincerity. “But I’m willing to change that if you are.”
And it was the truth. Because as much as he irritated me, he also amused me. I liked the fact that he challenged me and that he didn’t back down from my sometimes abrasive personality. He was the first man in a long while who seemed to remain interested even after he’d gotten a good dose of my personality.
My mother had long given up all her attempts to turn me into a Southern “lady” because no matter what she said or did, I always reverted back to the bold, outspoken woman I’d always been.
More than once I’d caught her mumbling beneath her breath, “Just like her damn father.”
Considering she usually said it with a smile, it obviously didn’t bother her too badly, though I had been known to embarrass her with my behavior.
Landen nodded. “Okay, we’ll get to know each other better.”
As we finished our entree, I learned that Landen was an only child, just like I was. I also learned that he liked to read anything and everything, even the occasional romance novel.
When I shared my obsession with Lt. Joe Kenda with him, he grinned. “You watchHomicide Hunter?” he asked, laughing. “Why am I not surprised?”
I cocked my head to the side and stared at him. “Why do you say that?”
His grin widened. “Because you’re just as tenacious and methodical as he is.”
I decided that his words were a compliment since those were both character traits I admired and smiled. “Why thank you.”
He laughed again, but the waiter chose that moment to return and take our now empty plates. For someone who said he hated to share, Landen not only shared his food with me but picked food off my plate as well. Between the two of us, we devoured the entire meal. So much for my midnight snack. I mean, my lunch tomorrow.
“Would you like some dessert or coffee?” the server asked.
It dawned on me that he’d never given us his name, but before I could ask for it, Landen asked him about the desserts and if they had anything special that wasn’t on the menu.
The waiter’s eyes lit up. “I have just the thing. It is a bit like cheesecake, but very special.”
“What’s it called?” I asked.
He said the name and my eyes widened. There was no way my tongue would fit around that word.
Landen and the waiter both laughed as I tried to repeat it and butchered the pronunciation. The server left and I still didn’t know his name, which bothered me. I liked to know the name of the people who waited on me at restaurants or businesses that I used regularly. I liked calling them by name because I knew from experience that customers often forgot the wait staff were people too.
When he returned, he brought a plate with a huge chunk of what looked like a thin cheesecake and two cups of Greek coffee.
“I sweetened the coffee, just a bit,” he explained. “It is too bitter without it.”
