Page 6 of Wrong Number

“Please tell me you like Italian food.”

She rolled her eyes. “How could anyone not love Italian food?”

Tana made me smile so easily. She seemed impressed when the hostess seated us at the nicest table in front of the side window that overlooked the park next door.

Once we were settled with menus and a bottle of wine, Tana whispered, “This place seems really nice. Why isn’t it busier?”

Glancing around the room, I counted only three other couples in a room that could have easily seated fifty.

“Actually, there are more people here than the last time I visited,” I said. “That’s why I look for any excuse to come here. The food is incredible, and the owners are really sweet, but because of the location, nobody seems to take it seriously as a real date spot sort of restaurant.”

Tana’s beautiful smile made me feel like lights were turning on inside me. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said softly. “I kind of like the thought that we are not just about to pig out on ravioli, but we’re helpin

g a family business.”

“Exactly,” I laughed.

After we decided to order two entrées and split them, I pointed out one of the owners who was waving to us from the kitchen. Tana joined me in waving back to the elderly gentleman who had obviously been cooking in that spot for years.

“How did you find this place?” Tana asked. Then her hand fluttered over her mouth. “Sorry – I don’t even know if there are any ex-girlfriend situations I shouldn’t mention, or whatever.”

I reached out to hold her hand across the table, relieved when she accepted it comfortably. “I appreciate total honesty,” I said gently. “It might seem pathetic, but I’m thirty-six and have only really dated three women.”

“Define ‘really dated’.”

“As in, more than two dates. An actual relationship sort of situation.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“All three of them barely lasted a month, and there were no hard feelings when they ended, really. We just weren’t meant to be. And it was obvious that we shouldn’t bother wasting each other’s time.”

Tana nodded, then smiled softly as I began to run my thumb along her hand.

“I’ve never gone on more than two dates with anyone,” she murmured. “And, to be honest, only one guy ever made it to a second date. Then he got really pushy, and I didn’t call him again. I’m only twenty-two, but I wouldn’t judge anyone on their dating history.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Most of us are looking for someone to spend our entire lives with, but it always starts off so awkwardly, because we’re total strangers.”

“Exactly! And it’s all so dorky and embarrassing.”

“Dorky, I understand. The whole getting to know you conversation is awkward. But why would it be embarrassing?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t have very many things to say about myself, so I feel like my life is...not boring, exactly. It’s pretty good. It’s just...not gigantically exciting.”

“I don’t think you are the slightest bit boring,” I said, staring into those gorgeous warm brown eyes. “I think you’re sweet, charming, and full of life. I also think you’re so beautiful that it’s becoming dangerous.”

Tana’s eyebrow raised as she smirked. “I assure you, there’s absolutely nothing dangerous about me whatsoever.”

“If I leapt over this table to kiss you, I could smash the wine glasses. Broken glass is always dangerous.”

Her head tipped back a few inches as she laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Not to mention, you could spill the wine,” she said, trying to seem serious. “This stuff is really good, so wasting it would be practically criminal.”

“Would you rat me out?” I asked. “Will you call the cops to report a wine waster?”

“No, but I would tell our server that you don’t deserve dessert.”

“You wouldn’t.”

She grinned, her nose twitching adorably. “You found out my secret. I’m a monster.”

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