Maybe he’d been too direct, and maybe she wouldn’t show, he thought as he stepped in the darkened lobby of The Hirst, a speciality steak house that was often crowded. The food was exceptional, and in all honesty, it was a place that suited who he was.

He’d made a reservation, and after showering and changing at the hospital from scrubs into a burgundy knit lightweight sweater that hugged his chest, black jeans, and a belt with a gold buckle, he shoved his feet into black oxfords and left at ten minutes to seven, pulling into the full parking lot of the steakhouse at seven sharp. He prided himself on timing, and he expected others not to waste his time, too. He was a busy intern.

There she was, sitting in the waiting area in front of the hostess on a long bench seat padded in red vinyl. The dark wood panelling just added to the effect. She seemed to know he was there, as her eyes connected with him. He could see her breath was uneven and affected even in the green wool coat she wore.

Her hair was loose, and as he stepped closer, he could see she’d taken some time to ready herself. She was wearing makeup and silver hoops in her ears. Her hair was hanging in soft waves. He stood over her and said nothing as he tried to figure out what it was about her that resembled a drug of need, not one of choice. She said nothing as her gaze followed him. She didn’t stand up but stayed where she was.

“Sir, can I help you?” someone asked.

He turned to a woman behind the counter, with dark hair and a face that blended into a million others. “Reservation for two for Tom Campbell.”

The hostess had painted red lips and smiled, showing teeth that weren’t quite white. “Right this way. Your table is ready.”

Tom turned to Becky as she rose on legs that should have been shaking. He held his hand out, and she started past him until his hand slid around her waist, her hips, her ass, holding her, feeling the tremble that could have fooled anyone into thinking she was scared, but he could feel her excitement, as if she couldn’t fight whatever this was. Then he leaned in and kissed her, a soft kiss that brushed her lips. When he pulled away, he took in her wide eyes, the shock, the excitement, as he pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her further into the restaurant, noting the dim lights and the orange hue from the single candle on each table.

He could see the restaurant was full, but the faces were hidden in shadows. It was something he liked, something that allowed him to be who he was without anyone being able to see past the mirage he knew he lived in.

The hostess led them to the only table he ever requested, the one at the back, a small booth against the wall where no one was walking past. He could see everyone from this spot, and his back was to the wall. It was something he did instinctually, and he never said a word about it to anyone.

“Can I get you something to start?” The hostess rested the menus on the table as Tom slid his hands over Becky’s shoulders, sliding his fingers under the collar of her coat. Her breath hissed, and he leaned in, his lips to her ear.

“Relax,” he said as he slipped her coat off, and she scooted into the two-person booth. The seat was circular so he could be as close to her as he wanted. “A Malbec, a bottle of Cheval des Andes,” he said as he hung up Becky’s coat on a hook on the post by their booth. He slipped out of his black all weather and hung it over hers before he slid in next to her.

Her eyes followed him, the blue seeming to glitter from the candlelight, and he took in her casual black knit that hugged her bust like a second skin. She still hadn’t said a word.

“I appreciate promptness. You weren’t waiting long?” he asked, slipping his arm over the beige vinyl back of the booth around her shoulders. He was so close that he could feel her heat even though he wasn’t touching her.

“No, only a few minutes.” She cleared her throat when the waiter appeared with the wine. He settled two glasses on the table and poured just a splash into Tom’s.

He reached for it and lifted to his lips, tasting. Just as he remembered. “It’s good,” he said, and the waiter poured for them both.

“Have you had a chance to look at the menu? Our dinner special tonight is the beef wellington. It’s very good.”

Tom slid Becky’s wine glass in front of her. “Just give us a few moments.”

The waiter left, and Becky now had her eyes on him. “You didn’t ask me what I wanted to drink. You just ordered wine. What if I don’t like red?”

He hadn’t even considered that she could have her own ideas, thoughts, feelings. With every woman he’d ever taken out, he’d just handled everything, and they’d let him. That was how he wanted it.

“Do you not like wine?” he asked and took in the way her lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile, only she couldn’t keep the mischief from her eyes.

She reached for the glass and slid it closer. “I’m nineteen, remember, underage? Although I do like it.” She lifted the glass and took a sip.

Of course, nineteen. Only nineteen, and here she was, drinking the wine he’d ordered without giving it a second thought. He would have to be sure this didn’t happen again.

“Any other likes or dislikes I should know? You’re not secretly a vegetarian, are you?” He took a healthy swallow of wine, and she shook her head.

“No, I pretty much like everything. My father is a rancher, so beef is a staple in our house.” She reached for the menu and opened it. Tom didn’t bother, since he knew it well.

The waiter returned. “Have you both decided?”

“Yes,” Tom said at the same time Becky said, “No,” so he reached for her menu and gently closed it on her, sensing a stubbornness that amused him. “Two beef wellingtons, rare,” he said, wondering how she’d respond to his heavy handedness.

The waiter took the menus and left.

“I can’t believe you just did that, ordered for me. I never said I wanted beef wellington, and rare? No thank you,” she added with more attitude. Nothing meek here.

He had to suppress the smile. There was something about her that stirred this darkness in him and made him want to handle and take and control, like a battle of wills that was so exciting, and he could never tell her or anyone.

“Rare is the only way to eat good beef, and it’s the best here.” He didn’t say anything else, as her mouth cocked open and her breath squeaked, at a loss for words.

“Maybe so, but I would like to order my own dinner.”

He was so close to her and turned a bit, his arm resting on the seat back. He ran his fingers over her cheeks, the edge of his thumb over her brown eye shadow, taking in the liner and mascara that added a smokiness to her eyes. It was sexy, and this was not the young woman he’d asked to dinner. Who was this?

“Why all the makeup?” he asked her, and there it was, the expected reaction. She was thrown.

“What kind of question is that? You asked me out for dinner, and here I am, dinner, a date…”

“Mmm, no, not a date,” he corrected her.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t date, you don’t do relationships, you…what, exactly? You approach women you hardly know and demand they sleep with you and only you, and only when you want it, and only on your terms. So what is this? Dinner…” She looked around, gestured in the air.

She had him there. He never took a woman for dinner, and yet here he was. “You didn’t answer my question. The makeup, who are you trying to be?”

She started, and for a minute he thought she blushed. “I’m not trying to be anyone. This is me, and adding makeup so I look really nice is what us girls do. Me looking good makes me feel good. It’s the whole package, and when a man asks me to dinner, this is the package he gets.” She reached for the wine, and he put his hand over hers, holding it there as he leaned closer, her lips so close that he could feel and sense how her heart had kicked up. Her breathing was shallow. Her eyes dipped once to his lips. Of course she wanted him, and he could see her willing him to kiss her.

Then he slid the glass of wine in her hands away and pulled back, leaving her wanting to kiss him, wanting his hands on her. She couldn’t hide it no matter how she tried as he lifted her glass and finished her wine.