Their disastrous date. She had probably mortally embarrassed him by running away from their table. Would he wait for her, or would he cut his losses and run?
The main bathroom door swung open. “Vera?”
She sat upright. “Rowan?”
“Just wanted to make sure there are no windows large enough for you to crawl through.”
She peeked through the gap under the door and caught a glimpse of his shoes. She felt she had to mention the obvious. “You’re in the ladies restroom.”
“Which is mercifully empty, except for us. Do you want me to wait for you in here or outside?”
“You’re baiting me again, aren’t you? Outside, please.” She supposed it meant she would have to abandon the safety of her bathroom stall. Yet elation rose in spite of her annoyance. He had come after her.
His footsteps retreated. The door closed.
She emerged from the stall, did what she could to repair her makeup, and then stared at the wan and tired woman in the mirror. What was she compared to the other elegant and beautiful women lounging at the bar?
Yet, the best-looking guy in the restaurant was standing outside the restroom, waiting for her.
Stop making it out to be more than it is. It’s just his job. She wrapped rationality and logic around her like a shield and marched out of the restroom.
Rowan was leaning against the opposite wall. For a long, silent moment, his eyes searched her face and seemed to ferret out her every secret. “Would you like to continue our dinner, or would you prefer to go for a drive?”
She glanced at their table and their barely touched entrees. Curious gazes from all around the restaurant darted in their direction. “I…they’re all staring at me.”
“I thought you said they were staring at me,” Rowan countered.
“They saw me run away from the table.”
“So what? They’ll take notes on what you ordered and be sure not to do the same. In a poorly lit restaurant, most people can’t tell emotional stress from a rotten scallop. If you keep this up long enough, the manager will come by to offer a complimentary meal.”
“I guess we should sit down, then. And thank you.”
“For what?”
For coming after me. “For not making me feel like an idiot.”
“I could never do that.” He smiled at her, offered her his arm, and escorted her back to their table.
Their interrupted date resumed. He steered the conversation away from personal matters into books, movies, and their favorite hobbies. Not for a moment did his attention stray from her, not even when the hostess showed a group of four extremely attractive women to the table next to theirs. Surely he was not blind to beauty, though it was clear to her he was skilled at ignoring it. He did not seem to notice the cloying laughter and flirtatious tones of the women at the next table. He remained oblivious when the woman across from him preened and reapplied her lipstick.
By the time he paid the bill, left a generous tip, and ushered her out, Vera knew she was the object of many envious glances. With his single-minded attention, he had shifted the attention from himself and onto her. If a man as good-looking as Rowan, who could have any woman in the room with no more effort than a beckoning smile, was that focused on his partner, surely she had to be extraordinary, regardless of how ordinary she looked. Vera had never felt as beautiful and as elegant as she did in that moment—not even on her wedding day.
As they drove away, she turned to him. “It was amazing, thank you.”
“The dessert was that good, huh?”
“No, you. The way you made me feel special.”
“That’s because you are.”
“Compliments again?” She smiled.
“I’ve been paying you compliments all evening. Not everything has to be said out loud.”
“I know.” She relaxed into the leather seat. She would be sorry to see the night end. “I realize it’s just your job, and I see now you’re very good at it, but you’ve made this a special evening for me. I’m grateful; I haven’t been out on a real date for a long time.”
He said nothing for a moment. She threw a glance his way. The passing streetlamps cast his features alternately into light and shadow. Finally, he broke the silence. “I’d like to see you again. Perhaps next weekend?”
Vera blinked. “But…don’t you live in New York?”
“We have something called planes—”
“It’s a long way to go for a date.”
“Depends on the date.”
“Hmm.” Vera inhaled deeply. Was there even a polite way to ask if he was interested in seeing her in a professional or personal capacity? “I…uh…aren’t you busy on weekends?”
“Me?” A sudden grin flashed across his face. “No. My clients are on contract. I do most of my work during the week.”
Clients on contract? As if she needed a reminder of what Rowan was. She couldn’t date a male escort who aspired to be a pimp. It was unthinkable. Darren would have a fit if he knew. What kind of example would it set for her daughter?
On the other hand, what were her chances finding another man who would treat her with as much care and attention as Rowan had all evening? How horrible would it be to date him until she found her bearings again and worked up the courage to date other men? It wouldn’t be fair to him, but surely he realized, as she did, that they could have no future together. “I…”
She looked at him and studied the handsome face of the man who had been unfailingly kind to her. She could not use him and then hurt him, not if he wanted something more from her. “I don’t think—”
“It’s just a date, Vera. No expectations.”
It was wrong, and she knew it; but damn her weakness. She wanted to see him again. Just once more. She inhaled shakily. “How about Friday evening, six thirty?”
He smiled. “Perfect.”
The next morning, armed with a dozen doughnuts and a half dozen bottles of Starbucks Frappuccino, Rowan rang the doorbell of his sister’s Plantation home. Brad Whitley, his brother-in-law, opened the door. “Come on in. You’re just in time for waffles.”
“How’s Jordan?”
“Not the best. He’s still asleep.” Brad, dark-haired and built like a football player, raised his voice. “Hey, Ris. Rowan’s here.”
Rowan followed the aroma of butter-infused batter into the kitchen. His sister, her blond hair gathered into a ponytail, looked up at him and smiled. “Blueberries or strawberries in your waffles?”
“Both, and thank you.”
“Did you have a salad for dinner last night like I told you to?”
“No, I went to YOLO.” He reached past her to nab a piece of bacon from the plate.
Her blue eyes narrowed. “That’s not a dining alone sort of place.”
“No, it’s not. I was on a date.”
“Really?”
“With Vera.”
“No!”
Rowan frowned. “Didn’t she call you yesterday to vouch for me?”
“No, she didn’t.” Iris sighed. “Damn it, Rowan. I warned you to stay away from her. I like her!”
“What the hell, Iris. You make me sound like a fatal disease. It’s a wonder you actually let me come over to visit.”