Jake regained his composure at the sight of a large horizontal crack across the screen of his laptop. "Dam it," he cursed.
He bent down to pick it up but kept his eyes on Melanie as he stood up slowly—taking in a full toe-to-head view as he rose. She almost thought for a minute he would circle his hand around again and make her twirl like earlier in his office. His eyes followed her long legs up to her plunging neckline and landed on her face.
Melanie flushed.
Everyone is staring at me.
Tiffany finally regained the ability to speak. "Who died and left you a fairy godmother and a pumpkin coach? Will you turn back into Cinderella when the clock strikes twelve?" She let out a high pitched laugh that sounded a little desperate.
"Um...how was the meeting?" Melanie tried to defer the attention away from her.
"What meeting?" Jake asked with a blank look on his face.
"Didn't you guys have a meeting...marketing or something like that?"
Brandon chimed in. "Yes, it was a very productive team meeting."
"Oh, that meeting," Jake said sarcastically. "Ya, great meeting boss."
Tiffany stood up. "Jake, when are we leaving?"
"Leaving?" He looked confused.
"To go to dinner," she replied.
"Oh...dinner. Right," he said in Tiffany's direction but kept his eyes on Melanie. "I just need a few minutes to clean up."
"Well, I'm getting hungry," she said impatiently and sat back down.
And probably thirsty for some expensive wine on Jake's tab, Melanie thought.
Jake broke his gaze from Melanie and started to head to his office where he kept an arsenal of stylish dress shirts, fresh jeans, and his signature cologne--just for date night.
Brandon reached his arm out to Melanie. "Are you ready? The driver is waiting to take us to dinner." Then he added, "You look exquisite!"
Almost simultaneously, Jake and Tiffany yelled, "You two are going out?"
"Yes, if you must know, we're going to dinner," Brandon replied.
"What...the...hell," Jake choked out under his breath.
Tiffany, for the second time in a few minutes, held open her mouth and had nothing to say.
Jake stammered, "You two are dating?" Anger flashed in his eyes. "You...uh...can't do that."
"Really? Why not?" Brandon challenged.
He paused for a minute. "I know. What about that memo? The memo about interoffice relationships. Number 45...um...what the hell was it again?" He looked at Tiffany.
Tiffany didn't say a thing as she seemed to be trying to grasp the concept of Brandon and Melanie dating.
"Never mind...It doesn't matter what the number is. We're not supposed to date coworkers right?"
"Hmm...aren't you taking Tiffany to dinner?" Brandon raised his eyebrows.
"That's totally different. We're not...seeing each other socially. We're just sharing a meal and getting to know each other better. I mean...we'll probably talk work," he tried to reason.
"Well," Brandon replied, "I guess it's ok then...if you aren't seeing Tiffany socially. But I, on the other hand, am seeing Melanie...socially." He met Jake's glare. "And I, my dear boy, am the owner of this company---and the rules do not apply."
Rage flashed in Jake's face. Melanie thought he might punch Brandon, but he turned to Melanie instead. "May I speak to you for a moment...privately?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the window.
"You're not seriously going out with Brandum? The guys an idiot." He looked at her and motioned to the dress. "You did all this for him? I can't believe you're falling for all his bullshit."
"Why...why," she stammered. "Why do you care who I date?" She wasn't sure why the answer seemed so important.
"Because, I...," he hesitated. "I'm your friend."
"You're my friend...right," she said bitterly.
"Yes...I care. You know...about what happens to you." He looked down at the floor.
"And what exactly do you think will happen if I see Brandon?"
"Well...I don't know...you could start reciting company policy or worse," he lowered his voice. "Turn into Barbie." He looked over in Tiffany's direction.
Melanie gave a short, tight laugh. "Well, she's good enough for you."
"That's different," Jake replied.
"How?" She waited for an answer.
Jake didn't answer but turned around and stormed back down the hallway.
You're the idiot, Melanie thought, as she fought back tears.
"Are you ready to go?" Brandon asked.
"Yes," she replied and lowered her head to wipe away a tear before he could see.
He held out his arm. Melanie grabbed it and walked out of the office without looking back.
Brandon sat opposite her in the limo. He grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped the cork. As he poured them both a glass, he glanced over at Melanie. "You really do look stunning." He raised his glass to hers. "Here's to a fantastic evening!"
Melanie guzzled the bubbly liquid and tried to calm her nerves.
Brandon reached over and touched her hand lightly. The familiar tingle shot through her. "You'll love this restaurant. They make authentic Italian cuisine...like what we had when we were children in Italy.
He paused for a moment remembering. "Our house in Italy had a giant wood table in the kitchen. My brothers and I would sit around it and pester the cook to make us cannoli."
"Oooh, I love those," Melanie commented as she tried to forget her fight with Jake.
"You know," he continued, "cannoli is a Sicilian pastry dessert. The name means little tube."
"Wow, I didn't know that." She started to relax a little.
"Occasionally, we would spend Christmas there. In the kitchen, there was a huge fireplace--big enough for a man to walk in. We would sit in front of the fire and cook would make us hot chocolate with whipped cream and anisette cookies--are the Italian equivalent of the American sugar cookie with icing and colored sprinkles."
He looked thoughtfully out the window. "I think her name...cook's name...was Lucia."
Melanie imagined a young, dark haired boy and his brothers eating cookies in front of the fire while a large, Italian women bellowed out a laugh as she brought them cocoa.
I wonder what his brothers look like?
They reached the restaurant and headed inside. It had stone walls with gas iron lanterns that looked like something you would find in an ancient city like Paris. The rustic wood tables had large silver candle operas in the center. The wax from the white tapers had dripped down onto the table so it looked like they had been there for decades. It was very romantic.
The waiter greeted them in Italian and Brandon spoke fluid Italian back. They had a short conversation like old friends. The waiter glanced at Melanie and said something with a wink to Brandon. She caught the word bella. Brandon slapped him on the back and replied, "Si, si."
He led them to their table and handed them menus. "Grazie," Brandon replied. After a quick review of the wine list, he ordered a bottle with a name Melanie didn't recognize.
"Eccellente," the waiter replied and left with a smile.
Melanie looked over the menu.
Crap.
It was in Italian.
Brandon sensed her hesitation. "I'll order for us." He took the menu out of her hands and pointed to an entrée. Do you like seafood?"
"God, no." She had a flash back to the lazy susan in Singapore. "Especially not those slimy oysters that slide down your throat. They make me gag."
His lips curled up into a sly smile. "That's too bad. They're really delicious—if you can get past the slimy part."
Is he flirting with me?
In the candlelight, she could see a small glint of gold in his chocolate brown eyes.
God, he's hot!
She looked around and realized she wasn't the only one who noticed--as many of the other women were stealing glances behind menus or blatantly staring.
The Tiffany bobblehead popped up in front of her and hovered slightly above the candles. "What the hell is he doing with you?" she asked.
What is he doing with me?
"Look around. He could be with anyone in this room." She bobbed up-and-down.
But he's with me. And aren't you supposed to be on a date with Jake?
"Oh, right. Thanks darling," she said sarcastically as she disappeared.
"So, is chicken ok? Not too slimy?" He smiled again.
"Yes, I love chicken."
"Alright, chicken linguine it is." He took a long look at her and shook his head. "You really do look incredible. I knew you had potential."
Melanie wasn't sure what to say.
I had potential?
"I knew it the first time we met. There's something about you. It's..."
A loud cat's meow interrupted him. "Oh, sorry. I forgot to turn my cell off." She fished in her purse for the phone. Pulling it out, she saw Jake's picture on the caller ID and immediately hit decline.
Brandon's face darkened. "I don't understand why you keep company with him."
"He's...he's just a friend. We hang-out."
"He doesn't care about anything, Melanie. He has no ambition and thinks everything is a huge joke."
"He's not that bad...he's just free spirited and..."
Brandon cut her off mid-sentence. "I've looked into his background. For his education, intelligence, and wealth, he's going nowhere in life.
Jake has money?
He took a sip of water. "You know, his mother is from one of the oldest families in San Francisco. Her great grandfather was one of the few men that actually made money in the California gold rush by selling supplies to the miners. He moved his family to San Francisco around eighteen-seventy and invested in building. His company built some of the landmark buildings you see today on Market Street."
Melanie was shocked. Jake rode a bike to work and she had never, ever seen him flaunt money or act like he might be rich.
"I don't think he's the kind of person you should hang-out with. He's only going to drag you down with him."
Was Brandon right?
She had been hanging-out with Jake for years and what did she have to show for it? And apparently, she had no idea who he really was.
To her horror, tears stung her eyes. "I've got to go to the ladies' room." She stood up and hurried away from the table--almost colliding with the waiter. "Which way to the bathroom?" she asked. He pointed to the far corner of the restaurant.
Once in the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror. Her blue eyes were filling up with tears and threatened to ruin her new makeover.
Why am I crying?
The Tiffany bobblehead appeared above the sink and in some sort of reverse psychology said, "Seriously, you're on a date with Brandon Dawson and you're in the bathroom crying. Snap out of it!"
She's right. I won't ruin my night with him.
"Stop it," she commanded herself in the mirror as she grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes—careful not to smear her make-up. Once she had steadied herself, she left the bathroom to rejoin Brandon.
"Are you ok?" he asked as she sat back down.
A glass of wine was now waiting for her on the table. She took a small sip. "I'm fine. It's just...allergies."
He reached over a tucked a renegade lock of hair behind her ear. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm ok, really." She smiled widely.
"Alright then, let's enjoy our meal...and the company."
She met his gaze, and with a large gulp of wine, tried to forget her conversation with Jake.
They had a long, leisurely dinner. Brandon told her more about his family. Both of his brothers were married. Too bad for Heather and Chloe she thought. They each had a few small children. He didn't see them as much as he wanted since they were all managing different branches of Dawson Publishing, but the family still got together every summer at the family compound in Italy--at his mother's insistence. She wanted her grandchildren to have the same experiences they did growing up and the same sense of family. Melanie thought it sounded wonderful.
She, in turn, told him about growing up in an average American family in the suburbs. He asked questions and was fascinated by the ordinary things they did growing up. Since he grew up at a private boarding school, he missed out on neighborhood tag, mall shopping, and sneaking out after curfew.
The waiter stopped by again. Brandon looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Dessert?"
"Ughhh..." Melanie groaned. "I couldn't eat another bite."
"But you haven't had the cannoli yet. They are delizioso!" He didn't wait for an answer and ordered them cannoli's and cappuccino.
The waiter once again replied, "Eccellente!" and dashed away to the kitchen.
Brandon was right; the cannoli was excellent. She felt so relaxed around him now in the candlelight with a few glasses of wine behind her. "Why aren't you married?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
I've got to work on my filters around him.
"I'm so sorry...it's none of my business." Her face flushed.
He seemed amused and reached over with his napkin. "You have whipped cream on your lip." He said as he gently wiped it off. Then added, "Maybe, I just haven't found the right woman yet."
Not knowing how to reply, she took another gulp of cappuccino--careful not to get whipped cream on her face this time.
When they finished dessert, Brandon paid with his black American Express and said a few parting words in Italian to the waiter.
The driver was waiting out front and opened the car door for them. "Pleasant evening Mr. Dawson?" he asked.
"Yes, very pleasant," he replied.
"Shall we be taking Miss Smart home now?"
"Yes, I believe you know the address."
The driver nodded and closed the door. The sun had gone done and the skyscrapers now glowed like a thousand tiny twinkle lights.
As they reached her apartment, Brandon slid open the window. "I've got this," he said to the driver and opened the door for Melanie himself. They walked up to the brownstone.
She looked up at him in the glow of the streetlight. The bus she usually took home from work swooshed by on its electric cables with a crackle and a pop. A slight ocean breeze warmed her skin.
Brandon leaned in closer. He had a five o'clock shadow now on his face that made him look rugged, and he smelled good--like one of those expensive men's colognes she occasionally sniffed at the Macy's counter with names like Burberry or Armani.
Crap. Is he going to kiss me?
His eyes darkened and in a slow, steady move bent down and covered her mouth with his. It was a long, sensual kiss that sent a shiver from her head to her toes and obliterated any lingering memory of Jake from the back of her mind.