“Oh, how rude of me, I forgot to ask after Meredith. How is she?”
“She’s good, going crazy planning the wedding. I’m hoping she won’t turn into a bridezilla.” He looked closely at her face to gauge her reaction, but she remained placid and open, her lips curled as she returned his gaze.
“It’s the moment every girl dreams about, I’m sure she’s allowed to be a primadonna about it.” Hanna’s voice was quieter now, and he began to wonder if she was putting on a façade. Or was he kidding himself?
“Do you dream about it?” As soon as the words escaped his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He watched Hanna’s face fall and her brows dip.
“I don’t allow myself to dream, Richard. I’m trying to stay in the here and now.”
The urge to gather her in his arms and pull her against him was gut-wrenchingly strong. She was such a mix of the girl he knew before, and the one he glimpsed after her mother’s death. Her sudden vulnerability made him feel almost angry, and like a caveman, he wanted to drag her away and hide her from the world.
“How long are you planning to stay?” He tried to keep his voice light.
“At least five more months. There’s so much to set up, and I still haven’t recruited the right person to run the place yet.”
“Give my head of HR a call. She might be able to talk you through some strategies.” Richard pulled his cell from his pocket and scribbled down a number on a piece of paper, holding it out for Hanna to take. She smiled at him before hesitantly reaching her hand out and placing her fingers on his.
The instant their skin touched, she pulled back as if she was burned, leaving a corner of torn paper in his outstretched fingers.
“I’m sorry.” She looked down at the ground. “I’m a little jittery.”
“It’s okay. I guess I’d better go anyway. It was great to see you again.”
“You, too. Thanks for dropping by.”
“Would you like to join me for dinner next week?” It was like the words came from nowhere, but he couldn’t regret saying them; his whole body tingled at the thought of seeing her again. “It would be great to catch up.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I’ll let you choose the restaurant.” He needed to get out of there now, before he did something he was going to regret. He scribbled his cell number on another piece of paper, wondering if she still remembered it, as he’d kept the same one all these years. Passing it to her, he kept his fingers well away from hers, knowing neither of them could take the shock of contact again.
Leaving her with a goodbye, he strode back through the corridor, feeling grateful the elevator took only a few moments to arrive. As he walked inside, he leaned his fevered head against the cool mirror, trying not to look himself in the eye as he wondered exactly what the hell he was doing.
Because to all intents and purposes, it felt like he was about to fuck up his life.
Again.
THE CHERRY BLOSSOM Café was only a few blocks from her apartment. Hanna had chosen it because she knew the owners, and loved the laid back atmosphere they created in the evening. In the basement they held performances each night. Sometimes, a band would play. Other nights there would be poetry recitals, or even small one-off plays. You never knew what you were going to get, you just turned up, ordered your food, and hoped for the best.
The fact they would have something to distract them from the need to make small talk played a big part in her choice. She was afraid of the intimacy of a sophisticated dinner-for-two, but was equally wary about the heated adrenaline of a gig. The café was the best of both worlds, there would be a table between them, but they wouldn’t feel alone.
Hanna had loved this place since the first time she’d stepped inside a few months before. Alone, and slightly nervous, she’d aimlessly wandered the streets near her apartment, and as soon as she pushed the door open, it had felt like home. The dark-blue matte-painted walls, and the battered wooden floor, offered a level of unpretentiousness she’d valued, and the warm welcome of Alonso and his wife, Elaine, had only added to her comfort.
Walking in, she waved at Elaine who was taking orders from a large group in the corner, her black hair piled high on her head, and her sixties-style geometric print dress complementing her curvy figure. Elaine pointed over at a table at the back, a few feet away from the performance stage, and Hanna tried not to laugh when she realized they’d have the prime position for watching poetry. She hoped Richard was ready for it.
The table was empty, and the thought she’d arrived before him buoyed her up, so she wasn’t feeling nervous anymore. They were two old friends, meeting for dinner and a chat, and she was totally up for that.
And then she saw him.
Blood like acid shot through her veins, her heart hammering against the cage of her chest, making want and need pierce her body like sharp icicles. She stared in appreciation as he leaned on the bar, his face in profile to her. Her eyes traced his jawline from his ear to chin, appreciating the sharpness of his bone structure, and the way his dark stubble defined it. He was leaning in, talking to Alonso, who was handing him a bottle of beer. Even from this distance she could see he was smiling, the pull of the skin surrounding his eyes telling her it was genuine.
As he picked his beer up, Richard
turned toward her, wearing dark trousers, with a white shirt tucked in. She thought maybe he had come straight from the office, deciding to remove his tie and roll up his sleeves as a concession to the casualness of the evening. He’d undone two or three buttons on his shirt, exposing a few inches of chest, and she saw a fine dusting of hair curling against his skin.
“Are you ready to be seated, Hanna?” Elaine’s voice shocked her back to the present.
She swallowed down the memories and turned with a smile. “Yeah, looks like my guest has arrived.” She motioned in the direction of the bar. “I’d better go say ‘hi.’”