“It’s not a date.” Danielle rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay if it is.” Danielle could tell that her mother was smiling, even through the phone.

“I’m on a dating moratorium.”

“Right.”

“Oh and Mom.” Danielle walked to her window and stared at the traffic below. “Since Dad didn’t make it for lunch, I still haven’t told him about breaking up with Joey.”

Her mother was silent for a moment.

“Mom? Did you tell him?”

“It’s not like I talk to him every day. In fact, I haven’t spoken to your father in weeks.”

“Good.” She blew out a breath of relief. “I need to tell him myself.”

“I understand. Enjoy your evening out. It’s been a long time.”

Danielle turned and saw Samuel getting off the elevator. “Mom. He’s here. I have to go.” Her pulse jumped into overtime, and she suddenly wished she’d had him pick her up at her apartment so she could have showered and changed. Fortunately, she kept heels at the office, and she’d slipped into them. It’s not a date.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“Love you, Mom.”

Danielle closed her cell phone and slipped it into her pocket.

Samuel stopped at her door and grinned at her. He held a little gift bag in his hand. “I brought you something.”

“Aw. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I promise. It’s nothing.” He handed it to her. “Nothing like the Apple computer I bought you this morning.”

She took the gift bag. Her father had sent Samuel to buy her computer. “Hmm.”

“Do you want to set it up? We have time.” He nodded toward the computer, now unwrapped but still sitting on her floor.

“Okay.” She reached into the gift bag and pulled out a book. Things to do in Houston. She looked up and laughed. She hadn’t seen him take two steps toward her.

He was standing much too close. Close enough for her to gaze into his sky-blue eyes beneath soft lashes. He smelled good; clean and earthy. Sandalwood? Her gaze strayed to his kissable lips curved up at the corners in a smile.

“I… um…” She took a step back. Held the book to her chest.

“It’s a welcome gift.” He didn’t move. “To Houston. In case you’re interested in what there is to do here.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry.

“Do you have scissors?” He nodded toward the computer box.

Spurred into movement, she went behind her desk and opened three drawers before she found a pair of scissors. She handed them to him and watched as he slid it through the seal. She was obviously the only one affected. This was not a good thing.

“Did you decide on a movie?” He pulled the computer from its box.

She shook her head. “I’ve been on the phone.”

After setting the computer on her desk, he pulled his phone out of his front pocket and after a couple of clicks, handed it to her. “I have an app. This theater is the one closest to us.”

As she scrolled through the movies, he said. “I don’t mind romantic movies.” He took the plastic off the computer and plugged the cord into the back.

By the time she could focus enough to choose a movie, he had the computer set up.

“How about this one?” She handed the phone back to him.

“Looks good to me.” He glanced at the screen. “We have time for dinner.”

“Sure.”

“Where do you want your computer?”

She’d already decided how to rearrange her desk, so she quickly pointed out where to put the computer.

“Ready?” He asked.

She grabbed her handbag and jacket. “Yep. All good.”

After she locked her door, they went to the elevator and rode down in silence.

“Are you in the mood for anything in particular?” He held the elevator door while she stepped through.

“I saw a Cheesecake Factory at the Galleria.”

“Cheesecake Factory it is.”

He opened the door on the passenger side of the truck, and she put one foot up on the running board. Her other foot wobbled a little. This was going to be a little difficult in heels.

“Can I help?” Samuel asked, again standing near.

She laughed. “Yes. I think so.” She reached out to put her hand on his arm, but he picked her up by the waist and set her on the seat. “Oh. Thanks.”

He went around to the driver’s side and hopped in.

“I’m not used to trucks.” She wasn’t sure if it was normal to have trouble climbing into the cab or not.

“It’s okay. It’s a Texas thing. What do you drive?”

“I don’t.”

He glanced doubtfully in her direction, then put his eyes back on the road.

“Help me understand.”

She smiled. “I have a car in L.A., but I never drive it. To be honest, I’m not even sure what it is. It’s something my father bought me. I drove him to the airport once.”

“You don’t drive?”

“No.” She laughed.

“I’ve never met anyone who didn’t drive.”

“You have to be kidding.”

“No. Maybe it’s just here, but growing up, getting our driver’s license and something to drive is what we all look forward to.”

“Yeah. I’d rather do something else.”

He pulled into the Galleria parking lot and drove up to the valet. “Like what?”

“What do I do? Make phone calls. Text messages. Read. Anything.”

He got out of the truck, shaking his head. “I’ll come around.”

The valet already had her door open, but Samuel stepped to her, put his hands on her waist, and set her on the ground. She tried to ignore the voice in her head that pointed out just how sexy it was to have a man pick her up like that. “Thank you.”

The entranceway was crowded. He took her hand and led her through inside the restaurant. His hand was firm, yet gentle. She could have easily pulled away, but she enjoyed the feel of her hand in his.

They were seated downstairs in the bar area.

“Would you like a drink?” He offered.

“Just water.”

“You sure? I don’t mind.”

She shook her head. “Water’s fine.”

She ordered four-cheese pasta, and he ordered fettuccini.

“Thanks for getting me out of my apartment.” Danielle said, sipping her water. “But I really would have been okay.”

“I’m sure you would, but I would never have forgiven myself for letting you spend your birthday by yourself. In my family, it’s not allowed.”

“That’s nice. My mother always did something, but my dad was often flying.”

“Pilots do tend to put flying ahead of everything else sometimes. I don’t think it’s on purpose.”

“I don’t either.”

Danielle caught a clear whiff of grilled meat as a server went by, and the nausea slammed through her again. She put her hand over her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

“I need to get to the restroom.”

“It’s over there.” He pointed, then stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

He grabbed her handbag off the seat and escorted her to the restroom. She wasn’t sure she would have made it without his help leading the way. But she did. And she was sick.