“Ummmm…I haven’t had any yet,” I muttered, embarrassingly.
“Well, what are you waiting for? A man’s livelihood is depending on you feasting well on that meal.”
“Okay.” I picked up the fork and knife and cut a piece of the steak. It was absolutely delicious!
“Mmmmmm!” I sighed. After that, I went for the lobster and dipped it into the small cup of melted butter. It was tender yet meaty.
“Pretty good! I’m hugely impressed,” I said with a mouthful.
“Ah…I see,” he hummed in my ear not having a clue of what he was causing to stir inside of me. “Well, maybe we have to hire him. I’m trusting you on this,” he growled.
“Oh, wow! The pressure. I’m no culinary connoisseur, Mr. Jacobs. Maybe you should get a second opinion.” I was partially serious.
“Nah, yours will do. I meant what I said in the card.”
My panties began to puddle. This man had me going.
“I don’t want to keep you,” I said as I continued indulging.
“No. Wait. I want to talk to you about something.”
“Okay…”
“Yeah…ummmm. I have an event coming up that I’d like to invite you to. It’s a charity that I contribute to regularly…ummmm…a mentoring organization.” Azmir stammering in his words? My heart melted a little. I was intrigued. “I don’t typically go to things like this. You know…award functions for organizations I give to but this year I’m trying something new. Would you mind coming with me?” he continued sounding bashful.
“Sure. I wouldn’t mind going. Thanks for asking,” I murmured trying to hide my excitement. The truth of the matter was I felt like he was asking me out…making this peculiar place we were in make less abstruse. We’d slept together and were obviously interested in and attracted to one another. Is this where he’s trying to make the next move toward officially dating? I wasn’t trying to kid myself and put my feelings out there. If he wanted me, he’d have to make it known.
After agreeing to go, Azmir said he had to go. He always has to go. I sat in my office and nearly swallowed every morsel on my plate. It truly was just as scrumptious as it was thoughtful. Fighting my sedative mood, I went into my next client with a belly full of food and my head flooded with images and hopeful thoughts of Azmir Jacobs.
By four p.m., I received an e-mail from Azmir’s personal assistant, Brett, detailing the event of the charity Azmir invited me to earlier. I wasn’t overly familiar with the organization but could tell by the name of the venue that it was going to be formal. Anxiety blanketed me as I read the e-mail. I felt out of my league with the culture of the charity. I’d been to a couple of Smith, Katz & Adams’ charities but they were all in the context of work, I knew the people throwing the party.
It wasn’t until I got to the end where I noticed Brett threw in a name and contact information for a stylist that would be fully expensed by Mr. Jacobs himself. Relief settled in even though I was uneasy about him paying for me to attend a function with him. I had a few weeks to consider it and had no desire to tell this man who I was now crushing on more than ever that I wouldn’t go out with him.