Page 5 of Captivated By You

She spun on her heel and made a beeline for the exit. I shot after her, catching up as she wrenched open the door. Seattle’s version of a rain shower hung in the air, more of a mist than a deluge.

“Ethel, please, stop.” I caught her elbow. “Please come back inside. I’m sorry. Really fucking sorry. That was completely crass of me. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

I wasn’t the kind of man to chase after a woman. Ethel had me dead to rights on her character assessment and where women fit into my life. My company held the number one position in my life, taking up one hundred percent of my time and attention. There wasn’t room for a meaningful relationship.

Yet on an intuitive level, I knew, deep in my soul, that letting this woman walk away would be a monumental mistake. I didn’t know how I knew that, only that every fiber of my being was screaming at me to stop her, to persuade her to give me another chance.

She peered up at me, fire still burning in her eyes. They reminded me of manuka honey, all deep and golden, the kind of eyes a man could stare into for hours on end and never experience a second of boredom.

A light breeze blew her blonde hair across her face, and she pushed it away with more than a hint of irritation.

“Why should I?”

Good question.

I held up my hands. “I’ve got nothing other than a groveling apology and a promise to keep my eyes to myself.”

Her full lips flattened. “And your hands.”

“Most definitely my hands.” I gave her a crooked smile. “Sorry for being a stereotypical asshole, but I like you. I like your wit and your insightfulness, and I would be honored if you’d let me buy you dinner. Order the most expensive thing on the menu as payback.”

She studied me for a few seconds, and then she let the door go. It banged shut, locking out the chilly fall air.

“Get ready to dig into those deep pockets, Ant.”

She flounced past without waiting for an answer and returned to our table. I grinned after her. I didn’t know this woman, but fuck, I wanted to. Not just for her body, which was so hot it should be illegal, but for her mind, too. She had the kind of smarts that I found incredibly attractive, as well as a warmth to her that called to me on a fundamental level.

I retook my seat and laid my napkin in my lap, then opened my menu. The food was fairly standard bistro fare, but the smells coming out of the open kitchen made my mouth water almost as much as the woman sitting opposite me. But as I scanned the entrées, something she’d said popped back into my mind.

“What did you mean when you said you’d had enough of being sexually objectified today?”

She kept her eyes down, examining the menu. Then she closed it and leaned back in her chair.

“I went for a job interview today, and the guy interviewing me seemed to think it was perfectly fine to grab my ass and give it a good squeeze.” Her jaw flexed. “You know, like you do in a professional environment.”

My mouth gaped. “Are you joking?”

She gave me a wide-eyed, incredulous stare. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“No. I mean… Christ, that’s fucked up.”

“Right?” She nodded. “And you know what the worst part is? It was my dream job. I passed all the online tests with flying colors, and my presentation was on the money, and then it comes to the final hurdle, and this joker thinks he can touch me and I just have to suck it up because I don’t have a choice.” She laughed bitterly. “No job is worth that.”

Acid burned my stomach, and my nostrils flared as I sucked down a few deep breaths.

“No, it isn’t.” I almost reached across the table to squeeze her hand in an act of comfort and solidarity, then thought better of it. “So, what did you do? Knee him in the balls, then call the police?”

A caustic laugh burst out of her. “Worse than that. I did nothing. I just walked out.”

“What? Why?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not.” I raised my hands in the air. “I’m just… furious, and wish I’d been there to kick him in the balls on your behalf. What was the job?”

Her chest lifted as she drew in a deep breath, letting it out through her nose. “An intern for a massive hotel chain. It was the perfect opportunity, one I’d been searching for every single day for months. Finally, I had a chance to use my degree in hospitality. And now”—she laughed again, still without mirth—“it’s back to Chicago and back to waiting tables until something else comes up. Whenever that might be.”

A swirl of unease rooted itself in my stomach. I didn’t believe in coincidences, and everything in me prayed I was wrong. I hid my clenched fists beneath the tablecloth and hoped the next words out of her mouth weren’t what I feared.

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