About thirty minutes into dinner, my anxiety is completely gone.

Replaced by confusion.

I’ve gone from years of men behaving badly to two guys who are classic gentlemen. It’s way too early to compare them, so I’m thinking it will sort itself out.

Of course, my friends think I’m running through a bomb factory with a lit cigarette.

Ya know what? If they meet, maybe it would be a good thing. I’d find out if one or both is the jealous type. Which to me is a major red flag.

But right now, I am totally locked in to my current date.

Where Josh went over-the-top in his choice of a romantic restaurant, Beckett has chosen something fun, a dinner theater with a clever way to serve the food.

The actors serve as waiters between scenes.

The show is Guys and Dolls, an old Damon Runyon classic featuring gangsters, gamblers and, as women of a certain virtue were called back in the day, goils.

And apparently we’ve got one of those as our waitress. Actually, she’s the female lead, Miss Adelaide. With the first scenes in the books, the gum-smacking, very attractive thirtysomething peroxide blonde saunters over to our table and pulls an order pad from a pocket. “Good evenin’ youse two. I’m your waitress for this evenin’. We got steak, we got turkey and we got fish. We also got liver, but trust me, youse don’t want that stuff.” Suddenly she runs one finger under Beckett’s lapel and sits on his lap. So waddaya want, handsome? Or would you rather skip dinner and head to the back room with me.”

Beckett blushes a bit but laughs and plays along. “While I’m flattered by your invitation, I believe I’ll stay with my date this evening. What cuts of steak are you serving tonight?”

“I dunno, sweetie. It’s from an animal that mooed at one time. But you look like a slice of prime beef. And I love that accent. Where you from, New Jersey?”

“The United Kingdom.”

“What exit on the Jersey Turnpike is that?”

“It’s England. I’m from London.”

“Oh, that place across the ocean. Anyway, as for dinner, if you don’t want steak or turkey we got some nice seafood. I can’t remember the name of the fish but it’s the kind that swims upstream.”

I speak up. “Salmon?”

“Yeah, that’s it, honey.” She runs her fingers through Beckett’s hair. “So, is this cute little thing yours?”

“It’s our first date.”

“In other words, no.” She runs her hand down Beckett’s cheek. “Waddaya say, handsome? You and me. Back room? I’d like to give you a very special welcome to America.”

“Thank you, but I believe I’ll remain with the young lady I escorted here.”

She turns to me. “Looks like any man who can turn me down is a keeper.” She does that I’m watching you thing with two fingers that cops do in the movies. “But I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you just in case you lose interest.”

I give Beckett a soulful look. “I don’t see that happening.”

She smiles and takes our orders, then heads off to the kitchen.

I take a sip of wine. “Oh, she’s a hoot. This is a fun place. Have you been here before?”

“A few times. I thought you would enjoy it.”

“Yeah, all the women sound like me.”

He laughs a bit. “You have a lovely talent for self-deprecating humor. But I assure you that your manner of speech is not a negative in any way.”

“So I guess you’re not going to teach me how to speak with such perfect diction as you do?”

“I’m not Henry Higgins and you’re not Eliza Doolittle.”

How about you play James Bond and I’ll be Moneypenny.

“A.J. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Awww. I wouldn’t change you either.”

The lights dim as the play is about to continue. I slide my chair a little closer to him.

***

AFTER THE CURTAIN CALL our waitress drops by with the check. “Anything else for youse two?”

Beckett smiles at her as he places two hundred bucks on the tray. “I think we’re fine. It was a very enjoyable performance and you’re very talented.”

I nod. “I agree. This was as good as the stuff I see on Broadway.”

She drops her alter ego. “Thanks, you’re very kind. Hope I can get there some day.” She picks up the check and the money. “I’ll be back with your change.”

Beckett puts up his hand. “Keep it. You worked very hard this evening.”

“Aren’t you generous.” She turns to me. “I know it’s your first date, but I think you found a good one.”

***

AFTER A NICE LONG WALK along the shore in the crisp fall air, I’m considering breaking the rules my friends have set for me about taking things slow.

As he pulls up to my apartment, I really want to take him upstairs. Not to spend the night.

But because I don’t want the conversation to end.

(Okay, fine, I wanna make out with the guy for a while. So sue me.)

He opens the car door for me and extends a hand. I take it as I get out and find myself locked onto his spectacular eyes yet again. It’s almost hypnotic and impossible to look away.

And it just comes out.

“Would you like to come up for a nightcap? I’d offer you coffee but I know you’re a tea guy and I’m sure that a cup of Lipton wouldn’t measure up so perhaps if it’s not too late—”

“I’d love a nightcap.”

“Great.” I open the door, lead him up the stairs and into my apartment. “I’ve got wine, beer or I can mix up something.”

“Whatever you’re having will be fine.”

“You like rum?”

“Certainly.”

I start putting together a couple of drinks in the blender. “I had a great time tonight, Beckett. An inspired choice for a first date. And I’ve always liked that play. It’s sure better than the movie where they gave Brando the singing part and Sinatra the talking part.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. It’s more entertaining than simply going to dinner. And I love the fact that the actors are also the wait staff and you get to know them personally.”

I turn on the blender for a few seconds, mix the drinks, and then pour them into two glasses. I take one and hand him the other, then raise mine. “To new relationships.” I clink his glass.

“To new relationships.” He takes a sip. “Excellent. Not only do you make a fabulous sandwich, but you excel at bartending as well.”

“Thank you. I must say, I’m really impressed with you and how you handled yourself at the dinner theater.”

“How so?”

I move a bit closer and look up at him. “Well, I mean, you had this hot, leggy blonde on your lap offering to take you to the back room and you weren’t even tempted.”

He laughs a bit. “It was part of the performance. She obviously wasn’t serious.”

“I dunno, Beckett. I could tell she really did find you attractive. But I’m glad you turned her down.”

“You have a unique way of looking at things, A.J.”

“I’m just yankin’ your chain. But I am impressed with you. You’re such a perfect gentleman. You bring flowers. You open doors for me. Polite to everyone. And you left one helluva tip for the waitress.”

“Having worked in the food business, I know they’re often underpaid. And she does work two jobs, if you think about it.”

“True. It’s gotta be tough remembering your lines and trying to get orders straight at the same time.” I take a sip of my drink and start to lose myself in those eyes. Neither of us says a thing for about thirty seconds. I’m waiting for him to make a move but I think he’s simply so polite that he won’t. Maybe he’s shy. Whatever. “Oh, what the hell.” I put my drink on the counter, take his and do the same, then push him up against the wall, lean up and fire up the best kiss I can muster. I feel his hands gently rest on my waist as I wrap my arms around his neck, then slide my fingers up through his thick hair.

Our lips slowly part a minute later and he gives me a wide-eyed look. “Oh my.”

“To quote a certain Brit I recently met, I hope I wasn’t being too forward.”

“Not at all. A chap would have to be a complete idiot to complain. And nothing wrong with a woman taking the initiative.”

“Well, I’ve always been a girl who takes what she wants. Let’s get comfortable.” I take his hand and lead him to the couch. He sits and I slide onto his lap, straddling him. “I think we need a re-take of that scene from the dinner theater. I’ll play the part of the waitress.” I lean forward to kiss him again—

And Gypsy jumps onto his lap between us.

I roll my eyes. “Great timing, kitty.”

Beckett starts to laugh as he strokes her head. “She apparently doubles as your chaperone.”

“Yeah, right.” I pick up the cat and set her down on the floor. “Now, where was I?” I slide closer to kiss him—

And the cat jumps on my shoulders.

“Gypsy, what the hell is wrong with you?” I reach back to pull her off my back but I can’t get her.

“Turn a bit, I’ll get her.” I twist and he manages to get the cat off my back, then sets her on the couch. “I’m not sure this young lady likes to share you, A.J. She might simply be a bit jealous.”

“Apparently so. She’s never done anything like this before.”

“Ah, so you routinely straddle men you bring up to your apartment?”

My eyes grow wide.

“To quote a certain American woman I just met, I’m simply yanking your chain.”

“Touché’. You know, that waitress might be right. You could be a keeper.” I take the cat and set her on the floor. “Okay, one more try.”

This time Gypsy jumps on Beckett.

I think this cat is somehow mentally connected to my friends and is determined to keep me from going too far.

“Okay, that’s it. Someone is getting tucked in.” I pick up the cat, get off Beckett’s lap, carry her to my bedroom, set her on the bed and close the door. The minute I do she starts howling.

Beckett is laughing and obviously thinks this is hilarious. “She’s a very determined little furball. And she’s not at all happy you locked her up.”

“And I’m her determined owner.” I slide back onto his lap. “Now—”

I hear the click.

I forgot Gypsy knows how to open doors. She comes running over to the couch and leaps on it.

Beckett slowly nods. “Impressive cat. She can pick locks. You should have named her Houdini.”

“I’ve got those handles on the doors instead of round doorknobs. Apparently I have to get those changed since she just jumps up and hangs on them until the door opens. I get up and extend my hand. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Your car. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know how to drive.”

We head out the door and are halfway down the steps when I hear Gypsy start to howl.

Geez, she’s worse than my mother.

***

THE INCREDIBLY LUCID dream jolts me awake and it takes a moment to realize it wasn’t real.

Of course it wasn’t real.

Gypsy was having a conversation with me.

Since this is still fresh in my mind, I’ll share what it’s like to get a lecture from a cat.

Me: That wasn’t very nice of you to jump between us when I was about to kiss the guy.

Gypsy: Kiss? You were gonna ride him like Debra Winger on the mechanical bull in Urban Cowboy. You think that man was going to turn down a lap dance?

Me: I just wanted to make out for a while.

Gypsy: Oh, please. Give me a break. You were looking at the guy like you wanted to devour him. Same look I have when you pull a can of Sheba liver pate’  out of the cupboard.

Me: And who provides you with high end food while acting like a cat butler?

Gypsy: Look, I had no choice. Your friends gave you new rules and you weren’t following them. You weren’t supposed to bring a guy up here on the first date.

Me: I feel like a sexual camel with all these rules. I needed some physical contact.

Gypsy: Well, considering how you two fogged up the window in his car, I assume you scratched that itch.

Me: Thank goodness you can’t open a car door.

Gypsy: Speaking of things I cannot do, the litter box needs attention and only one of us has hands. Any questions?

A quick look at the clock tells me it is not even six in the morning, and I can go back to bed.

Gypsy, obviously woken up by me, meows and heads in my direction. I scratch her head and pull her on top of my chest as I lay back and stare into those beautiful emerald eyes. “You really are a damn chaperone, you know that?