Page 4 of Warrior's Cross

Cameron took a few quicker steps and set down the bottle and glass. “Let me help,” he requested before thinking about it. He lifted the strap that was catching on the man’s jacket. He took a steady breath to ease his nerves over the liberties he was taking, and in so doing got a brief whiff of the man’s subtle cologne. He shivered and tried not to react to the intoxicating scent.

The man froze as Cameron touched him, but he relaxed quickly and lowered his head, allowing Cameron to help him out of the sling before he sat down. Cameron carefully pulled the fabric straps free and stepped back, simultaneously exhilarated by the contact and relieved to be moving away. He folded the sling and laid it in the chair opposite where the man settled.

The big man rolled his shoulder carefully and looked up at Cameron with dark, unreadable eyes. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was low again, the words barely audible.

Cameron’s polite reply was totally forgotten as he looked over the man’s face critically, taking in the stitches and fading bruises before meeting his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked instead.

The man gave the customary jerk of his head in answer without moving his eyes from Cameron. Then he smiled slowly, one side of his mouth curling upward into a slight smirk. It made his face far less severe and foreboding, and if possible, even more handsome. “I’m fine,” he answered, sounding bemused. “Thank you,” he repeated.

Cameron nodded slowly, entranced by that slight curve of the man’s lips. “You’re welcome.” He blinked several times and finally recovered. “The evening special and house wine?” he asked awkwardly, gesturing to the bottle he’d set on the table.

“What do you recommend for dessert?” the man asked him in response.

Cameron’s brows jumped, and he had to grasp for something to say. He wasn’t accustomed to being so off-balance when taking someone’s order. The process was generally pretty cut and dry. “Ah. The praline cheesecake has been popular this evening,” he managed.

The man’s gaze didn’t waver. “What doyourecommend?” he repeated slowly.

Cameron swallowed, feeling a little warm as the man kept his eyes and attention focused solely on him. “The pistachio crème brûlée.”

Why he was unnerved, he didn’t know. He gave recommendations all night. But for this man to ask for hisownfavorite, it made his entire body warm.

“That’s what I’ll be having then,” the man responded with a slight twitch of his lips that might have been another smile.

Cameron wondered if the man noticed how his waiter stared at him. Probably. He seemed like the type of man who noticed a lot.

Cameron’s cheeks heated, and he licked his lips nervously. “After dinner?” he asked.

“For dinner, if you please,” the man answered with that ghost of a smile and even an amused light in his eyes. He obviously enjoyed how disconcerted Cameron was.

“Ah. Okay,” Cameron said. He sighed as he realized the man knew he was embarrassed. “Do you want the wine?” he asked clumsily.

The man’s black eyes drifted over the bottle and then back to Cameron slowly. “I do,” he answered gently.

The nonthreatening tone helped Cameron find his composure, and he took shelter in the familiar movements, pulling the corkscrew out of his back pocket and picking up the bottle to open it. The man watched him the entire time, his eyes intent and shadowed. Cameron pulled the cork free and offered it to him, his other hand tight on the bottle. He felt the unusual nerves easing, and he was able to straighten his shoulders and recover his usual poise, even though he could feel those black eyes following his movements.

The man nodded at the cork and met Cameron’s eyes. “Do you still enjoy what you do?” he asked out of the blue, his voice gruff and somehow intimate in the way he kept it at a whisper.

Cameron swallowed as the sound of it sent awareness zipping through him. Just like the first time, Cameron nodded. “Yes.” But this time he asked, “Why?”

“Because you appear content,” the man answered immediately.

Cameron blinked and then gave him an open and honest smile.

“Yes. I suppose I am.” He placed the cork on the table and poured a couple swallows into a glass for him to approve. “I’m good at it,” he said with a shrug.

“Yes,” the man murmured as he picked up the glass. He sampled the wine and nodded his head in approval. “Being good at what you do does help. Thank you, Cameron,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome,” Cameron said. “Your dessert will be out shortly.” He put down the bottle and left the table, taking the corkscrew with him and fighting back the fluttering in his chest.

“You know, I think he likes you,” Miri asserted with a slight smile as soon as Cameron stepped into the service area.

“For God’s sake, Miri,” Cameron muttered as he blushed deeply.

“He likes you, and you are totally missing it. Would you even know what to do about it?” she challenged slyly.

Cameron made an aggravated sound and deliberately ignored her question. “How in the world is this either relevant or remotely appropriate? You’re talking about a loyal customer, one who Blake always greets personally,” he reminded pointedly.

Never mind that Cameron thought about him fairly frequently.

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