Page 214 of The First Time

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"Should I have a word with your manager?"

"And say?"

"That you're kind enough to sit to help a poor, confused patron navigate the lunch menu."

"Yeah? Do you not know the difference between filet mignon and ribeye?"

"Say I don't."

"Okay." I swallow hard. That chair is inviting. My ankle is killing me. And his gaze is intoxicating. "I only have a few minutes."

He nods.

I take a seat. Cross my legs. Smooth my black jeans.

"How's your ankle?"

"Fine." It will be fine. Eventually. "I appreciate your concern, but I don't need your help."

Those piercing eyes find mine. "You don't know how I can help."

His voice is low and deep and impossible to read.

I'd ask who the hell he thinks he is, but he's a tech mogul. He knows exactly who he is.

His hand brushes mine. "I have an offer for you."

"What kind of offer?"

His fingers curl around my wrist.

It feels so good.

I want that hand everywhere.

I want his touch everywhere.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

This guy has a sway over me. I don't understand it. But I'm not going to give into it.

Not right now.

He draws his other arm over the side of his chair. "You were interviewing for a job the other day."

I clear my throat. "Keep that to yourself."

He nods. "Is this a profession you enjoy—waiting tables?"

"We can't all be tech CEOs."

"True." He leans a little closer. Those piercing eyes find mine. "You're a very beautiful girl."

There's a flutter in my stomach. Then somewhere below it. "Thank you."

"And polite."

"Uh… Thanks?" What's he getting at?

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