I turned to look. And when I did, my pulse quickened. His eyes were so vividly blue and filled with an emotion that I couldn’t quite decipher.
Longing?
Frustration?
Something more?
And already, I was falling under his spell. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.
Softly, he asked, "You wanna know what I did last night?"
"What?"
"I thought ofyou." He paused. "And I don't mean for a few minutes, or for an hour. I mean, I thought of you all night."
The petty part of me wanted to throw his claim back at him, to tell him that thoughts were cheap, just like his oh-so pretty words.
But I couldn’t, and now I was more curious than ever. "So let me get this straight," I said. "You sat in your hotel roomallnight, thinking of me? That's what you expect me to believe?"
"Something like that."
"See? That's exactly what I mean. Why is a simple yes or no so hard for you?"
"Because thingsaren'tthat simple."
"All right. Enlighten me. What part of the statement was true? And what partwasn't?"
"Okay… Iwasthinking of you."
"But what? You weren't there all night?"
He frowned. "See?That'sthe problem."
"What'sthe problem?"
"You've got this way of cutting to the chase, asking things you shouldn't. And I don't want to lie, even by omission."
Already, my wheels were turning. If he wasn't in his hotel room all night, what did that mean?
Was he out with someone else?It sure sounded that way.
I just had to ask, "So, where were you?"
"Not where you think."
"How do you even know what I'm thinking?"
"It's written all over your face," he said. "So let me save you the trouble of asking. I was alone."
I felt annoyingly relieved, but even more curious. "Doing what?"
In what felt like a change of subject, he said, "I need a favor."
"What?"
"Stay," he said. "Not as my assistant. And not as a family friend. But as my guest."
"But I don't get it," I said. "Inside the restaurant, you told me you wanted me to leave."
