“Benedikt!” I said with a surprised gasp.
“Ms. Saunders, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I say that you look more beautiful up close than you did radiating from the stage tonight?”
The security guard eyed us for a second, but I nodded, and he let me out. Benedikt offered his arm. He was a tall drink of water. He had to be at least 6‘5“ and built like a fitness model. His blonde hair had a trendy cut that could have walked off the page of any fashion magazine. I smiled as I leaned into him as we walked down the street. As we crossed through Times Square, the holiday decorations were out in force. Everywhere I looked, there were snowmen and women, Santas, elves, Christmas trees, and a menorah or two.
“Where are we going for dinner?” I asked.
“I wanted to be a traditionalist on the first date, so I made a reservation at Sardi’s.” He peered down at me, and those blue eyes practically burrowed into my soul. “If you would prefer, we can always go somewhere else.”
“I think Sardi’s would be lovely. I haven’t been there in years.”
“Perfect.”
We walked over to 44th, crossed Broadway, and walked up to Sardi’s. The place was decently busy for a late Thursday night. We were seated quickly.
“Would you prefer the booth or chair side? I know the booth side makes you more visible to the room. I wasn’t sure if you would prefer the chair, so your back was to the room, offering you a bit more anonymity,” Benedikt said with his gorgeous Icelandic accent.
“I’ll sit in the chair. That way, I can focus my attention on you,” I said with a coy smile.
“Can I help you with your coat?” he asked. I turned my back and let him slip my coat off.Wow, a real gentleman.Then he pulled out my chair and helped me sit down. He took off his woolen overcoat and sat it down next to where he would sit on the booth seat before unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting opposite me.
Brice had not done this man justice. If there was an entry forIcelandic Deityin the encyclopedia, Benedikt Einar’s picture would be sitting next to it. I stared at the picture-perfect chin with the dimple. His skin looked flawless. I could tell he took good care of himself physically. His pectoral muscles were practically bulging underneath his tie and buttoned-up shirt. Even the black-rimmed glasses stressed his best facial features, forcing you to look deeper into those amazing eyes.
Once we’d ordered, he spent twenty minutes peppering me with questions. He knew what I did for a living, so we bypassed those questions. I told him about my life in New York. He wanted to know what it was like moving to the city after growing up in Des Moines. Unlike some dates where you feel like you’re being interviewed for a newspaper, Benedikt made the conversation seem natural.
“So enough about me,” I said after we’d finished with our salads, “tell me about you. How did you end up in New York?”
“Ahh…interesting story. As you probably know, I’m not exactly from around here. I grew up in Reykjavik, Iceland. I had a cousin who lived here. When I was in high school, I came and stayed with her for a week up in Boston. I fell in love with the US.”
“In Boston?” I said, feigning shock. “I’m surprised you didn’t go running back to Iceland.”
“Ahh, yes. The famous Boston-New York rivalry.”
“Hey, if it wasn’t the Yankees and the Red Sox, I’m sure these two cities would find something else to fight over.”
“You’re probably right.” He lifted the glass of red wine and took a sip. The wine tinged his lips slightly. “After visiting the US, I decided I wanted to come here for my undergraduate degree. Then I went to Yale Law School. I could have gone back to Iceland when I graduated, but several firms here courted me. I’d already fallen in love with the city. Friends and I would travel down from New Haven on the weekends, so making a move to the city was the next logical step in my life.”
“How long have you lived here now?”
“Let me see, I moved here when I was 25, so that would be right at a decade in May.”
The waiter arrived with our meals. I had the cannelloni au gratin. For Italian food, it was some of the lightest I’ve ever eaten. They didn’t give you a ridiculously sized portion. And eating later at night, I wasn’t looking for an enormous meal before bed. Benedikt had a grilled porkchop.
Conversation with Benedikt was effortless and natural. Time passed quickly. Before long, we’d been sitting at Sardi’s for almost two hours, and we were the second to last couple there. I didn’t want to be that couple who prevented the staff from cleaning up and clearing out for the night. I mentioned it to Benedikt, and he immediately paid for our tab. We left Sardi’s and found that it had started to snow.
“I would like to walk you home, if you don’t mind?” he asked.
I considered declining but said, “I think I would like that.” He offered his arm, and we walked the two blocks to my apartment. Even though it was cold, Benedikt’s warmth helped me stave off the cold as snow fell around us. Benedikt didn’t seem to notice the snow as we strolled. But then, hewasfrom Iceland.
We stood outside the building for a couple of minutes talking before I finally asked, “Would you like to come up for a nightcap?”
“I would, but I have an early morning meeting with a client. I’m going to have to decline. But I would like to do this again if you’re amenable?”
“I’m definitely amenable,” I said. I could only imagine how I must look to him as I stood there in the snowy morning hours practically radiating at him.
“May I kiss you?” he asked.
“I would very much like it if you kissed me.”
