Anatoly: I have little experience, but is garlic not turn off for kissing?
Maggie: There won’t be any kissing if he stands me up.
The messages abruptly stopped after that and Maggie began to wonder if she hadn’t perhaps offended him. She checked on Desmond, but there were no updates from him either, so she started scrolling through social media to take her mind off waiting.
Time slipped away from her and before she knew it twenty minutes had come and gone and there was still no sign of Desmond. Maggie was starting to get concerned and shot him a quick message asking for an update.
The waitress came over and topped off her water glass. “Would you like to order or continue waiting?” she asked, sympathy etched in her features. “I can bring you another white wine if you’d like.”
“Not right now, thanks. I’ll wait a little longer,” Maggie answered. It would have been easy to get drunk given how her date was going, but she wanted to keep a clear head about her should he show up. Sure, she’d been having quite a dry spell lately when it came to sex, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hop into the first man’s bed that came along.
She let out a sigh as the waitress scurried off and thought about texting Anatoly again, but before she could decide, motion at the front of the restaurant caught her eye. She hoped it was her date, but as she glanced up, she was met with an even more welcome sight.
Anatoly, drenched from the downpour of rain outside, was speaking to the scandalized hostess. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but by the way the girl was shaking her head, they didn’t want to admit him. And who could blame them? The man was dripping water all over the floor.
The priest must have felt her gaze, for his eyes suddenly found hers across the room. Maggie’s heart skipped a beat and then sped up as he started toward her, much to the dismay of the hostess. In seconds, he was standing over her, a gentle smile tugging his lips upward.
“You’re here…” she breathed, unsure what else to say to him.
“Da, I did not want you to be stood up,” he replied. “May I sit, Detective?”
Maggie nodded, wanting very much for him to join her even though she still couldn’t quite believe he was there. He had come for her and her poor heart didn’t know how to take that. She was elated, terrified, confused, and all she could manage to do was smile back at him as he sat down.
Then it occurred to her; she was on a date with a priest.
Chapter Fifteen
As he took a seat, the hostess looked from Maggie to Anatoly and started to protest again, but a stern look from Maggie was all it took to silence her. The girl sighed, muttering something about getting a towel, and then strode off.
Anatoly couldn’t help but notice that Maggie looked breathtaking in the glow of the candlelight. He was powerless to resist admiring her natural beauty, thinking back to the night not so long ago when he had met her for the first time.
She looked much the same, except her lipstick had been red then, and tonight it was a soft pink that matched her sweater. Whoever was supposed to meet her was missing out, even if Anatoly did say so himself.
“I am afraid I am poor substitute for proper date…” Anatoly started to say, but he paused when Maggie shook her head. “Nyet? You think soggy priest is adequate date?”
The way she smiled at him made his mouth go dry and his undead heart hammer wildly in his chest. He would need to reflect on these strange feelings, but he couldn’t bear to do it now. Not when she was sitting across from him, eyes aglow with unshed tears.
She turned her head to hide them, but it was too late, he had already caught the glassiness of her gaze. It was a strange thing she did and he wasn’t sure if it was out of frustration or not.
Without a second thought, he reached across and laid his palm on her hand, which was resting on the table top. He heard her sniff and he rumbled soothing words in Russian until she finally looked over at him again.
“I’m just glad you’re here…” she confessed and a warm tingle spread outward from his chest. “Why do you keep showing up for me?”
Her question took him by surprise, and he paused to consider his answer. Meanwhile, his thumb idly rubbed the back of her hand. He barely realized he was still making the soothing gesture, but she must have appreciated it as she didn’t pull away or ask him to stop.
“I am not fully sure. All I know is my heart and spirit went out to you, especially on night we met.” He gave her a sheepish grin, but continued his own confession regardless of the dangers it posed.
“I heard you speak to Father Abram, heard oath you made to him. It was moment of compassion for one who could no longer comprehend and yet to me it spoke volumes. You have great sense of justice, Maggie, and also deep well of sadness. I found kindred spirit in you.”
He felt as though truer words had never come from his lips and yet he couldn’t stop the twinge of guilt that there were still secrets between them; his secrets.
Maggie’s eyes never left his face. She stared so intently at him that for a moment he feared his words had been misunderstood, but he soon realized she was fighting tears for the second time.
He was quick to apologize. “Maggie, Izvinite… I did not mean to upset you.”
She just shook her head again, her fingers lacing with his on the table for all to see. It was like crossing an invisible line, edging into dangerous territory, and while he knew he should remove his hand, Anatoly found it wouldn’t budge.
He didn’t want it to. The feel of her soft, warm skin against his was confusing, frightening, and alluring all at once, twisting him up until all he could do was sit there.
