Damsel Under Stress

Page 11

Today, though, Rod had done something with his hair. Normally he just slicked it back, but now it looked more natural. Without all the pomade, his hair turned out to be thick and wavy, and a rich, dark chestnut color. The wave in his hair as it framed his face softened his angular features, and the lack of grease in his hair also made his face look less shiny. When he smiled, he was actually cute.
“It looks good?” he asked, sounding a little unsure.
“Yeah, it looks great. You should do it like that more often.”
He looked pleased. I couldn’t help but wonder what had brought this on. I’d been planning to attempt a makeover on him, if I could figure out a way to do it without hurting his feelings, but if he was going to do it himself, I could provide positive reinforcement. “You look good, too,” he said. “Is that for your dinner with Owen tonight?”
I didn’t need to ask how he knew about our date. Gossip flew at light speed around MSI, and Rod and Owen were best friends, so it was a given that Rod already knew, and I knew he approved of the two of us. I couldn’t help but wonder, though, what the rest of the company would think about our office romance. “Thanks, and yeah, it’s for dinner,” I said. “I just, um, borrowed it from a friend and was going to look for some accessories. I needed to be sure whatever I got would match.”
“It’s a perfect choice. He’ll love it. Have fun tonight.”
Fortunately, my roommates weren’t around when I got back, so I was able to give them an almost-true story about borrowing the dress from a co-worker when they arrived as I was doing my hair.
“You look great,” Gemma assured me. “Your co-worker has fabulous taste. Maybe you should invite her shopping with us sometime.”
Oh, I could see that happening. “Maybe,” I hedged. The buzzer from the front door downstairs kept me from having to come up with an excuse. Owen was right on time, in more ways than one. I got to the intercom before Marcia had a chance to interrogate him. “I’ll be right down,” I said, making it sound as decisive and final as possible. I wasn’t in the mood to have to shelter him from my roommates.
“You’re no fun,” Gemma pouted, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Have a good time and remember it’s a school night.”
“Yes, Mom,” I promised as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. When I stepped out the front door downstairs, I was immediately glad that I hadn’t invited Owen up. He looked even more handsome than he normally did. He was clean-shaven, the glasses were gone, and he wore a silk suit with an open-collared shirt that made him look like a photo spread from GQ. My roommates might have fought me for him. I was glad Ethelinda had worked her magic on me. Otherwise, I would have felt awfully frumpy next to him.
A slow smile spread across his face when he saw me. “Wow. You look amazing. Not that you don’t always look nice, but you look really nice tonight.” That was my Owen, absolutely adorable and delightfully awkward.
“You’re not so bad, yourself,” I said, feeling my face grow warm. Giving compliments like that wasn’t as easy as it looked.
He stepped toward me and gave me a gentle kiss that more than made up for the lack of a kiss Saturday morning. Up close to him, I could see I was right about the dark circles under his eyes. “Did you get any sleep at all this weekend?” I asked.
“Some.” He didn’t meet my eyes and instead turned toward the street. “I’ll get a cab.” That was an area where magical powers really came in handy in this city. He barely waved one hand, and suddenly a taxi practically jumped the curb to get to him.
He took me to a Village restaurant that was upscale in a classy, unobtrusive way. It was different enough from the kinds of places we’d gone together when we were going out as friends to make this very clearly a special date, but not so fancy that it looked like he was trying too hard. The prices on the menu were almost high enough to make my eyeballs bleed, but the food was described in plain, unpretentious English.
We spent several minutes discussing the menu and deciding what to order, then after we’d given our orders and the waiter had brought our drinks, an awkward silence descended over the table. We’d never had trouble talking to each other before. What had we talked about before we were officially dating? Oh yeah, work. Well, whatever it took to get the ball rolling.
“How did things go this weekend? Did you find anything interesting?” I asked.
He looked so relieved and grateful to have a topic of conversation that it was almost funny. “Interesting, yes, but I’m not sure how valuable it was. I’m now certain that someone I don’t know broke her out magically. I’m not sure yet how they got past our defenses.”