Polly’s wedge heels weren’t exactly made for walking—she’d planned to change into flats before heading for the subway home—she enjoyed the exercise. Being in a big, noisy, polluted city, surrounded by skyscrapers and cement—albeit with many well-kept neighborhood parks, not to mention Central Park to soften the blow—made her miss home. John looked after her as they juggled their way through the passing crowds, ignored crossing lights, and jaywalked to their destination.
Giovanni’s was everything she’d hoped for in a restaurant—quaint, quiet, romantic, with tall, thin breadsticks waiting at each table and a handsome young waiter ready and willing to serve the diners. For a Friday night, the place was half-empty, and Polly wondered if it had anything to do with the food. Or if the time being only six-thirty in the city that never slept might have something to do with the small turnout.
Johnny knew the waiter by name and ordered a bottle of Chianti and a medium cheese pizza plus two dinner salads, without giving Polly a chance to change her mind about pizza for dinner. The list of pastas and seafood was impressive, but she had said she was going out for pizza, so she didn’t fault him for that. She even kind of liked John’s take-charge approach to all things in life.
While in his office she could have sworn there had been a flash or two of something in his eyes, after he’d ordered he gazed at Polly as if noticing her for the first time that day. That interesting curl of his lip stretched into a regular smile, like he was surprised and happy at what he’d found sitting across from him.
“I’m going to be straight with you and say I like your hair down,” he said, shaking out his napkin and putting it on his lap, sounding more like he was reading the first order of business at an admin meeting than paying her a compliment.
“Thank you.” A warm flush moved in a wave up her neck to her cheeks. Polly couldn’t exactly say the sensation was unpleasant, and by the appreciative glint in his eyes he must have found her turning red appealing, which made her face heat up even more.
She’d noticed a few things about him on their walk over, too. Like the fact that he filled out his slacks really well and his broad back made even a man of his size look like he had narrow hips. He walked like a guy on a mission, too, which made it extra-hard to keep up, especially dodging traffic and crossing streets in her wedge-heeled shoes.
The Chianti came quickly, and after downing half a glass of her ice water Polly looked forward to sharing a glass of wine with her boss.
“So,” he said, crossing his hands on the table top. “How did your first week at Angel’s go?”
“Really well, thank you.”
He nodded then took a long draw on his wine, all the while staring into her eyes. He seemed to hold the wine in his mouth before swallowing, as if savoring the flavor and aroma. Oddly, his sensual care with the wine set off tingles across her shoulders. He soon diverted his stare over her shoulder and, she assumed, through the window to the busy street.
“I’ve got to say, I’m rusty with this sort of thing,” he said.
“What sort of thing?”
“Taking a woman out to eat.”
Dr. John Griffin didn’t date? Even with his gruff shell, that surprised her. He was a good-looking man, a doctor with a gentle heart for his young patients, a...well, she wasn’t sure what else he had to offer, but she’d figured he had a full life.
“Don’t think twice about it. I practically forced you to do it, so...”
He hushed her by putting his hand on top of hers, and with a no-one-forces-me-to-do-anything look stared her down. “I wanted to.”
His touch sent her reeling, and though she thought she might jump out of her seat, she settled and went all quiet, taking in the full significance of his message. Why would he want to spend time with her? She was a country bumpkin, a girl still searching for herself. Sometimes it was better to drop all the questions and just be polite. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He shook his head. “Knock off the ‘doctor’ nonsense. We left that back at Angel’s, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, as she took her first sip of the strongly flavored wine. “Johnny.”
That got an interesting look out of him, one that made her replay her earlier blush.
Midway into her second piece of pizza she’d finished her wine and let John pour her another glass. Another sip or two later, plus more pizza, and she remembered what had really been on her mind since earlier in the week, and why she’d gone to John Griffin’s office in the first place.
“May I run something by you?” she said.
“Sure.” His mouth was full of the best pizza Polly had tasted since she’d gotten to New York.
She took another drink of wine and placed the glass on the sparkling white tablecloth. “I’m in a dilemma about something and don’t know what to do.”
He, swallowed, looking very interested in her line of conversation. “Go on.”
“I’ve had a bad history of men walking all over me and, well, last year I got dumped by a guy back home. I’d really had it with men after that, and part of the reason I moved to New York was to move on and start a whole new life.”
She could read his body language. Shoulders hunched over the table, his chewing had slowed down. He squinted. This was not a topic of conversation he was interested in but she needed to discuss her options with someone, and tonight that someone was John Griffin.
“So, anyway, a couple of days ago I got a call from Greg, the guy who dumped me without warning last year. He’s coming to town and wants to take me out to dinner. He doesn’t mean anything to me any more, but I’m thinking he at least owes me a nice dinner, plus he mentioned something about taking me to a Broadway play, too. I know it may sound superficial of me, but I was thinking I deserved some kind of explanation and maybe he’d tell me what was up last year.”
He sat perfectly still, hands fisted on the table for a few silent seconds, his expression impossible to read. “He wants to screw you,” Johnny said curtly, before taking another drink of wine.
She winced from what felt like a slap in the face. “You don’t think I should see him?”
“That depends if you want to get screwed or not.” His irritated gaze delved into hers, sending a crazy mixed-up message right down her center. Had she just annoyed him? She sat straighter, using the table to help her balance. Did she want to have sex with her ex? Had she even thought about it in the last six months?
No.
Not until the last few days, that was...and Greg wasn’t the face to come to mind when she did think about sex. Oh, cripes, could Dr. Griffin read her mind? Did he have any idea she had the hots for him?
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting her napkin across her plate. “I should never have brought up the subject. It’s just that I don’t have anyone to talk things over with. The lady I rent a room from is probably eighty if she’s a day, and my best friend works evenings in Pennsylvania, so it’s not like I can pick up the phone after work and talk.”
“You asked my opinion.” He tugged on his earlobe. “I’m giving it to you straight,” he said, his eyes darting around
