Page 264 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“Let me know if I can be of assistance,” she replies with a smile that I’m used to receiving.

My parents gave me my good looks, and I’m just naturally charming. Amusing myself while I search the restaurant, I don’t find her, but there’s a large patio out back, so I make my way outside. As soon as I do, I see her under a flowering tree in the corner.Seated alone.

I’d love a chance to admire how beautiful she is in a deep pink dress with bows on top of her shoulders. Her hair is in a ponytail high on the back of her head, and her chin rests in her hand.

I keep moving, though, wanting to be the one she can lean on. As soon as her eyes spy me coming, she’s stiffening her spine and clasping her hands on her lap under the table. I barely reach the vicinity before she’s asking, “What are you doing?”

I take the napkin from the plate and whip it in the air, freeing it from the shape of a fortune cookie, and sit down across from her. “I’m having lunch.”

“Here?”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

She looks around like I’m making a scene.I’m not.Just having lunch with a gorgeous woman on a Sunday afternoon in June.

Leaning closer, she whispers, “The check is on its way, Harrison.” She tries to catch the waiter’s attention by raising her hand, but when that fails, she adds, “I was already planning to leave.”

“Change your plans and have lunch with me.” My voice is even, my offer genuine.

We share an exchange, and then she asks, “How do you know I haven’t eaten already?”

I glance at the clean plate in front of her and the silverware that shines on either side of the porcelain. She continues looking around for any last-ditch efforts, but when she can’t think of any, she says, “Fine. I’ll stay to keep you company, but don’t drag this out. Just lunch, and then we go our separate ways. Okay?”

Grinning, I adjust the napkin across my leg and pick up the menu, settling in. “What do you recommend?”

“Harrison?”

My gaze slides over the top of the menu. “Yes?”

“Okay?No dragging this out.”

“Fine. Long lunches that lead to lazy Sunday afternoons in bed, which then lead to dinner and a hot bath right after. Your body slick against mine, coming until?—”

“I will get up right now.”

I love getting under her skin, but I like her smile even more, which she’s granting me regardless of the threat. I chuckle. “Okay.”

“Good. As for the rest of that, it’s not happening either, and the eggs Benedict is their specialty.”

Lowering my menu, I ask, “Did you know eggs Benedict is named after a Wall Street broker who ordered the dish at the Waldorf Hotel in the late 1890s.”

“There are conflicting stories regarding that.” Her hand goes to her chest. “As a New Yorker—born and bred—I like the broker one the best.”

“What was it like to grow up here? Having a park as your backyard and walking the streets to get to school? I’ve never really understood city life when it’s more like a concrete jungle.”

“That’s because you have to spend time here to get to know it. There’s magic found around every corner. You just have to look for it.”

“Maybe you can show me.”

“Maybe. I’m pretty busy these days.” She looks away, studying every other person on this patio in avoidance of my eyes. But then she exhales heavily and meets my gaze.

I can’t successfully hide my smile when I see hers first.

The server arrives and clears her empty mimosa glass. “Anything else?”

Ordering, I reply, “Two eggs Benedict, a pitcher of mimosas, and flat water for the table.”

Her pen is still poised on the pad, but nothing was jotted down. She’s looking at me when she asks, “Oh, I thought we were clearing this table?”

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