Page 25 of Dirty Shots

Chapter Nine

Anya

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Anya sat through her classes,one eye on the clock, the other on her cell phone. She wanted to send Eric a message, but didn’t want to appear needy. Finally, the phone vibrated in her purse and she snatched it eagerly, holding the screen below the level of her seat so her lecturer wouldn’t notice.

Sorry I couldn’t stay this morning. Hope you liked the clothes. Same time tonight?

She hugged herself in excitement. The memory of his touch on her skin stayed with her, her body aching in that pleasurable way that reminded her of all the things they’d done the previous night. She found her mind constantly filled with Eric, the scent of him, the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel as though they were the only two people in the world. It was hard to believe they’d only known each other for a week now. How had she filled her time before he’d entered her life?

Later that day, as afternoon turned to evening, Anya made her way back to Eric’s apartment. She was surprised to find him standing outside on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of a smart suit, giving a casual look to the outfit. His eyes scanned the street, and as soon as he saw her, he straightened, a smile breaking on his face. Unable to help herself, she smiled back, a reflex as natural as anything they’d done.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked as she approached.

“Waiting for you.”

“Did someone throw you out of your own place?” she teased. She’d rarely seen him outside of his apartment.

He laughed. “No, but I figured it was about time I threw myself out. As much as I want to keep your beauty all to myself, I thought you deserved to be wined and dined.”

A little ball of happiness swelled inside her. “You mean we’re going out to dinner? Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have dressed up a little.”

He glanced down at her outfit—a knee length leather skirt, soft cream sweater, and heels. “You look beautiful just as you are.”

She glowed with pleasure, glancing down at the sidewalk. “Thank you.”

He held his hand out to her, and she took it. They walked down the main road, and then turned off onto a side street. Up ahead, a couple of small tables were positioned on the narrow sidewalk, an old fashioned canopy protruding from the restaurant. A couple sat, sipping coffee and reading—the man a newspaper, the woman a paperback—not speaking to one another.

Eric pushed open the door, and, above their heads, a bell tinkled. The restaurant was tiny, only about ten tables, none seating more than four people. It was still early, so only a couple were taken, but the air was redolent with the scent of garlic, tomatoes, and some kind of spice. A waiter in his late fifties caught sight of them entering. He bustled from around the counter, his stomach straining at the small white apron he had tied around his middle, and opening his arms in greeting. “Mr. Rutherford! You came back to see me.”

Eric laughed and Anya glanced up at him, enjoying the sound and the recognition in Eric’s face. “No offence, Mateo, but I didn’t exactly come here to see you. It’s your pasta I’m here for.”

He waved a hand. “No offended, no offended. And you bring beautiful lady. What more could I ask? Come, sit. Sit!”

He guided them to the table in the window, pulling the chair out for Anya, before placing a couple of menus in front of them. “I can get you drinks?”

“Yes, please.” Eric looked up at her. “White wine okay? Or would you prefer something else?”

She smiled. “White wine sounds lovely. Thank you.”

He ordered, and they both studied the menu.

“This is wonderful,” she said. “Do you come here often?”

He smiled at her. “Is that a pick up line?”

She grinned back. “Why, do I need one?”

They stared at each other, caught in a moment. It became too intense, and Anya glanced away, her cheeks heated.

Eric cleared his throat. “In answer to your question, yes, I do, though more often than not I get Mateo to deliver.”

“The waiter?”

“No ... Well, yes. He’s the waiter but he’s also the owner. His food is wonderful, but I don’t take much time to sit and eat out very often. I’m normally too busy with work.”

She was pleased he’d taken the time out for her.

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