I sound like such an idiot. What am I still doing here? Thank him for saving you and go home, Misch.
“A little work. Mostly vacation.”
“Oh, I'm here for work, too.”
“I know.”
That threw her for a second.
“How?” she asked. He gave a tight smile as a waiter came and set a cocktail in front of him.
“Your technical manual here on the inner workings of the insurance world,” he commented, tapping a large binder which was sitting on the table.
“Oh, yeah, obviously,” she laughed at herself, and some of her nerves abated.
“But I've seen you before.”
Nerves made a U-turn.
“Huh?”
“I've seen you around, knew you weren't local. Clearly not a student. But I gotta say, you don't look like an insurance agent,” Tal explained.
“Oh? What do I look like?” she was curious.
“A dancer.”
“Really?” she asked, feeling short of breath. One year. It had taken her one year to get her body back. Mike had never said anything except 'good job', right after fist bumping her.
Fist. Bumping.
“Yes. You have amazing legs, good arms. And the way you hold yourself. Very graceful. Screams dancer.”
Oh, this man. I'm in trouble.
They sat and chatted for a while. Mostly superficial things. The weather, the sights she'd seen. He managed to wiggle information out of her, but remained surprisingly tight lipped about himself. Misch ordered two more vodka-tonics, sucking them down quickly to help calm her nerves. Mr. … what was his last name? He'd never said it. Tal seemed to notice her nerves, and he kept giving her that sly grin, those dark eyes burning into her.
It got later, and he surprised her by calling for the check, then paying for the whole thing. It was just as well. She was slowly turning into a basket case. She felt like she was going to throw up, her wedding ring felt like it weighed a ton, and she was positive she was sweating everywhere. She kept telling herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong, that she wouldn't do anything wrong.
But that sly smile ...
“Well, thank you for saving me, and for keeping me company,” she sighed, walking out of the cafe with him.
“It was my pleasure. I live to save damsels in distress,” he assured her, grinning down at her. He was all that was right with the Mediterranean – tall, dark, and handsome. She blinked rapidly and forced herself to look away.
“Good, that's good, cause a lot of us damsels need it here. I hope you -,” she tried to say goodbye.
“Oh, you're not going anywhere.”
She looked back up at him.
“I'm sorry … what?”
“The night's still young, who goes to bed at this hour?” he asked her. Misch glanced at her watch.
“It's eleven,” she pointed out.
“Early in Italy – look at all the people,” Tal instructed. There were a lot of people about, dining and drinking and walking around. Rome was a busy place.
“I usually go to bed at this hour,” she replied.
“How boring.”
“Excuse me!?”
“Boring. Your life must be boring, if you always go to bed at eleven,” he repeated himself.
She wanted to argue, but she couldn't. He was right. Her life was beyond boring. Had bored her all the way to another country, and what did she do once she got there?
Went to bed by eleven every night.
“What did you have in mind?” she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. His smile made a reappearance.
“Walk with me,” he suggested, then he began strolling down the street.
They walked for a while. Tal was somewhat easy to talk to; or at least, he would have been, if Mischa hadn't been so anxious in his presence. She didn't know what it was – he hadn't hit on her, not really. He stared at her in a way that made her panties want to run away, and he was very charming, but he hadn't said anything to indicate he was attracted to her. Hadn't touched her since that first encounter.
Maybe he was just an American, happy to spend time with another American in a foreign country.
“Okay,” she started as Tal led her into the lounge of a really nice hotel. “If I'm going to have another drink with you, you have to give up some more information.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, taking them right up to the bar.
“Your Mr. Mysterious act is cute and all, but I don't feel like getting chopped up into pieces tonight,” she explained. He rolled his eyes and waved for the bartender.
“I'll share if you share,” he replied. She snorted.
“I've told you lots. You know what job I do, what town I'm from, how long I'm staying here, how -,” she began to prattle off.
“I want to know why a married woman is standing in a bar with me,” Tal cut her off.
Misch blinked at him as she felt the blood rush to her face.
“There's nothing wrong with having a drink with somebody,” she defended herself. He smirked down at her.
“You say that, but I don't think that's what you're really thinking,” he said in a low voice.
I'm entering a danger zone. This is too much.
“This is a bad idea. Thanks for the drinks,” she grumbled, grabbing her tote bag from off the floor.
“Stay.”
She'd been in the act of turning away, but she stopped. Looked back at him. He had grabbed her arm, was holding her in place, and his heavy gaze was once again searing her. He had such intense, dark eyes.