“Sophia, don’t take this the wrong way, but I would consider it an insult if you paid for your dinner when I invited you to go with me. My mother raised me better than that. She’s ingrained in me. I don’t want to take your independence from you, but I just believe there are certain things a man should do for a woman, and paying for the meal when he invites her to dinner is one of those things.”
“Dominic, I don’t know any man who believes in that,” she replies with a mixture of shock and incredulity. “So, moving heavy things, paying for dinner, and what else?”
“Opening doors—including car doors—carrying luggage, protecting her by making sure she gets home safely from work,” I say with a pointed look, “and anything else that requires a real man’s touch.” The last part is very cryptic and I don’t suspect she will assume anything more than what my words actually relay. I hope she doesn’t look at the deeper meaning. Yet.
“I’m not accustomed to being taken care of like this, Dominic. Even with the simple things you’re doing for me. It just feels strange,” she confesses. “I hope I don’t offend you.”
“I understand that. It is hard to accept if you haven’t been used to it before now. But, Sophia, I don’t want you to feel bad about it because I actually do enjoy doing them. It makes me feel good to do these things, so don’t fight with me on them,” I explain, hoping she better understands.
“I will try to remember that. It may not always be easy for me, though. I guess I’m just used to being completely self-reliant.”
I look over at her and smile, “Let’s make a deal. I will coax you, but then you have to actually let medowhatever it is.”
“Deal,” she says with a smile.
“Dinner?” I ask again, testing her, but I also really want to have dinner with her.
“Yes, Dominic, dinner with you sounds very nice. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I answer and stop the route on the GPS to take her to one of my favorite places instead.
As I turn into the driveway to the Four Seasons resort, I feel the tension radiating off of her. I casually look over my shoulder and see her astonished look, her eyes wide and her mouth slighted parted. Oh, the thoughts that must be running through her mind right now. But I don’t want to frighten her or give her wrong impression, so I decide to save her from her overactive imagination.
“There’s an awesome restaurant inside the hotel. Have you ever been?” I ask casually.
“Uh, no, I’ve never been here,” she replies as her eyes dart around the landscape, no doubt looking for the alleged restaurant.
“Relax, Sophia. I brought you here solely for the food. It is out-of-this-worldfantastic. I think you will like it,” I try to soothe her. “I’m not bringing you here for any other reason than dinner.”
I catch her look of disappointment that quickly changes to relief, then to confusion, but she doesn’t verbally respond. I can’t help but laugh to myself.Women.They’re offended when they think a man is hitting on them and they’re offended when they find out he’s actuallynothitting on them. Her reaction makes me question how offended she would be if she knew about the images of her that have stayed with me since I first saw her two weeks ago.
After leaving my car with the valet attendant, I turn to her and say, “This way, Miss Vasco.” Her smile is warm and the suspicion has left her eyes, I’m much too pleased to note.
Once seated, she takes a moment to really look around the restaurant and take in her surroundings. It’s opulent without becoming ostentatious. The food is expertly prepared and perfect every time. I’m trying to watch her, gauge her reactions, and understand where she’s coming from without being overly obvious about it.
“Sophia, tell me about yourself. I know a little about your work background, but nothing about you personally,” I prompt after we’ve ordered our drinks.
She hesitates only a second before she begins. “There’s really not much to tell. Well, nothing that would be considered interesting, anyway. I’m twenty-three and from a small town outside of Austin.
“My parents and little brother still live outside of Austin. I miss my brother. He’s four years younger but we were always very close while we were growing up. I haven’t seen him in a while. Anyway, I moved to Dallas about a year ago and you know everything since then,” she finishes with a smile.
“So, no husband or boyfriend?” I ask with a casual aloofness that says I want to hear about her but I’m not overly interested.
“No, definitely no husband in the picture. No boyfriend, either—at least not anymore,” she says before tasting her wine. “This is delicious. You have very good taste. Thank you for ordering for me. I never know what kind of wine to get.”
The subtle change in topic does not go unnoticed by me but I can tell she isn’t comfortable talking about this subject yet. That’s just as well. I’m actually not ready to answer any similar questions from her. In fact, I know I need to rein in these wayward thoughts and feelings toward her. I just met her, and while I would like to get to know her better, we are not at the right time or place for me to even consider being anything other than business associates. In addition to that, I’m her boss, and that’s really the only fact I need to consider.
“Tell me about yourself, Dominic.”
“I’m originally from Denver but moved here several years ago. I’m twenty-nine now and started DPS when I graduated from college. I built it from the ground up myself after majoring in Software Engineering and Computer Science at the University of Colorado. My dad is a computer engineer, so he actually builds them and identifies the best components to go into them, so I have some knowledge of that aspect from just watching him work. My mom is a stay-at-home mom and was always there for my two sisters and me with everything we had going on.”
“So, no wife or girlfriend in the picture?” she asks and quickly looks down at her hands.
“No, no wife or girlfriend in the picture,” I answer truthfully.
The waitress returns to take our order and we’ve barely glanced at the menu. I look at her and ask, “Do you know what you want, Sophia?”
She looks up at me with her deer-in-the-headlights look. “Oh, um, no. I’m sorry. I haven’t had a chance to look. What do you recommend, Dominic?” She stutters her response and her face flushes with embarrassment.
