Asian World was a rectangular room with a series of booths arranged in blocks with wooden half walls, painted black. The half walls rose three feet above the red Naugahyde bench seats, offering privacy. The smell of the restaurant’s dishes made Andi’s mouth water. She figured that was a good sign. Hunger. Even with everything that was going on, her body was signaling that she needed to take care of herself.
She wasn’t sure what she thought of Lucas Denton. He’d seemed approachable from the pictures she’d seen on television and in the paper, but in person he exuded a strength of character that hadn’t come through on screen. She’d been shocked by how much she wanted to just fold herself into his arms and let him take care of her.
Good. God.
An Asian waitress waved to her to take any seat, and Andi chose one of the booths near the front door. The thin metal blinds were drawn across the window against the heat, but there was a tiny vertical strip along the edge where she could just see Luke’s client slam out of the office and stalk toward her Escape.
Whatever her deal was, things must not have gone well.
“You like something to drink?” the waitress asked her, dropping off a menu. “Tea?”
“Two menus, please, and um, water would be great.”
She left abruptly, but Andi called after her, “Do you have decaf tea?”
A brief nod without a look back said she’d been heard.
The door opened and Luke stepped inside. He spied Andi immediately and slipped inside the booth across from her.
“That was your eleven-thirty?” she asked.
He glanced at the large watch he wore on his left arm. “More like a twelve-ten.”
“We’re on the clock, then. I assume I’m footing the bill for lunch.”
She said it matter-of-factly, and for some reason it pissed Luke off.
“Now see, that attitude really stinks. I was planning on going Dutch, unless you really want to fork over your hard-earned money.”
“Dutch is fine.”
“Relax,” he told her. “We’re going to get the Carreras.”
“Are we?” To her consternation, she suddenly felt tears burn her eyes. Oh God . . . oh, please, don’t let me cry.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
And that’s when the waterworks started.
*
She couldn’t believe this was happening, especially in front of Luke Denton. It was mortifying. She desperately tried to keep from crying, but her throat grew hot and her eyes filled with tears. She ducked her head, horrifically embarrassed, and when he said, “Hormones,” she started laughing, swiping at the wet tracks on her face.
“I don’t think that’s strictly true, but I’ll take any excuse.”
She picked up her menu with its pictorial depiction of the available dishes.
“No excuse,” he said. “Fact.”
She couldn’t look up from the menu yet. She needed some time to collect herself. She finally managed a brief glance in his direction and was disconcerted to find him staring back at her. His eyes were blue, a deep cerulean shade she was a sucker for, and his hair was brown, a couple of shades darker than her own. He had a dimple and a really nice smile. She had the deep, dreaded feeling that she’d made a mistake with him. He was the kind of man/boy type she generally couldn’t stomach, the kind that oozed charm and cleverness, when in reality they were just a shade or two above empty-headed. But Denton had quit the force in his loyalty to his partner, and that showed character.
“Do you know what you’re going to order?” she asked him, aware he hadn’t looked at the menu.
“Yeah. Do you?”
“No.”
“You look like a salad type.” He hitched a thumb to the specials written on a chalkboard. “I’ve heard the green papaya salad is good.”
It felt like things were getting away from her. “I can order for myself.”
“That is not in doubt.”
“Have you had the salad?”
“Nope.”
“What are you having?”
“I like a lot of curry,” he said.
Her stomach did an uncomfortable twist, and suddenly the prospect of any kind of food was iffy. From being starved, she was now uncertain she would make it through the meal without disgracing herself. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. “The salad could be good.”
The waitress came by and asked for their order, and Luke ordered the green papaya salad for her, then picked out a few items for himself, all with curry in the title, then turned to Andi, whose stomach gave a hard wrench.
“Excuse me . . .”
She walked quickly toward the back of the restaurant, relieved when she correctly guessed where the restrooms were. She locked herself inside the unisex unit and leaned against the door, willing her stomach to relax. Man, it was as if her hormones had just been waiting for her to catch on. Holy God.
She had to splash water on her face and fight back the urge to retch, but finally she got herself together. She looked at her wan reflection in the mirror.
What are you doing?
She’d had a boyfriend once who’d been the same type of character as Lucas Denton—amused, detached, maybe a little too cute—and she’d broken off that relationship after only a few months. But she could feel her heightened interest now, and it kind of pissed her off.
She returned to the table. Luke leaned on his arms and said, “You sure you’re all right?”