The Heart Wants What It Wants

“Never enough. Anyway, why lawyer?”

Diana grinned.

“It’s going to make me sound like an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. You’re interesting.”

Bolstered, she went on.

“It’s one of the best ways to help. I can do what I can because of a lot of people who were told they couldn’t and refused to take that lying down. There are still people who fight, who try to speak truth to power. They are silenced too often. If I can be a lawyer, I can help them.”

“So you plan to be a civil rights lawyer.”

“That’s the dream.”

“But the law firm you work for doesn’t have that background.”

“No, but we do a lot of pro bono work for small businesses that get kicked around. It happens a lot. Anyway, I need to be able to pay the bills and it does give me contacts. I’m doing what I can. Once I graduate from law school, I’ll start specializing.”

“You’re hedging your bets. So that you’ll be able to pay the bills no matter what. No, don’t look at me like that, Diana. I think it’s a sensible thing to do. It’s one thing to have lofty ideals. It’s another to starve for them.”

Diana sulked a little. She had never even really admitted that to herself. She didn’t want this man, compelling though he was, to look at her and see her quite so easily.

“It’s not like that,” she mumbled, but she was glad when the car slid to a stop, and they had to get down.

“Ever been here?”

Diana shook her head.

“No, of course not. It’s my first time in the city.”

“Come on, then.”

This time, he didn’t offer her his arm. He offered her his hand.

She hesitated just for a second before giving him hers. She was braced for it, but that spark seemed to leap from him to her, run through her, electrifying her.

She had to fight to keep her spine straight.

“Relax, Diana. I won’t eat you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“I… I’m not worried,” lied Diana, as they walked to the elevator and got in.

She glanced at him, her hand still held securely in his, as they rode up the tall building.

“Do you come here often?” she asked, because in the enclosed space, the tension between them was unbearable. She didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t know how to deal with it.

“I’ve been here a few times. The chef is a friend.”

“Oh.”

“I asked him to make sure the chocolate truffle mousse was on the menu tonight. I hope you don’t mind, it does oblige us to have it.”

“I think I can live with that just fine,” she assured him, as the door opened and they walked out. She had to take in great, gulping breaths of air to shake off the feeling of having had his eyes on her all that time. He had such a way of looking at her.

They were whisked away to the best table in the place – overlooking the city, by the tall glass windows, but shielded and sheltered from prying eyes, a bottle of champagne already waiting for them on ice – without George even having to say his name or point out that he had a reservation.

“What shall we drink to this time?” asked George as the second bottle of champagne of the night – she wondered what had happened to the first, because they’d just had a glass each, she did hope it wasn’t going to be wasted – was opened.

“I don’t know.”

“To making every moment count, then,” said George, and she smiled as she raised her glass.

Diana had thought that her infatuation with this man might disappear after spending some time with him. After all, it had been painfully obvious that they came from two completely different worlds, and that they had completely different ways of living, and looking at life.

But to her shock, she found that he was a charming conversationalist, and there were no awkward moments. He encouraged her to try the escargot – she knew they were snails, but she’d always wanted to try them, and he didn’t laugh when she decided that she didn’t like them, after all. He recommended the house salad and the fish, and she realized quickly enough that he was definitely right.

It was even comfortable, after a few minutes, to sample the food, to tell him what she liked and what she loved. He didn’t mind that she loved everything. He didn’t seem to disdain her lack of criticisms.

When the chef finally brought the dessert over himself, George got up, grabbed the man in a one-armed hug, and turned to Diana.

“Jeff, I want you to meet Diana David. She has been very appreciative of everything all night.”

“The lady has better taste in food than she does in men, then, you old devil. I’m glad you like it, Diana. George usually has dinner with young women who order a salad and then glare at it as if it might put a curse on them. Or eat them.”

Diana grinned, but she suddenly wondered just how many women George had brought there.

Of course he must have brought many women there. It was silly to be surprised.

“Won’t ever have that problem with me. I love food a bit too much, if anything.”

“It’s a sign of enjoying life. George could do with some of that. I have to get back to the kitchen, but bring this one back, George. She likes food. I like women who like food. Diana will be good for you.”

Diana kept her smile in place as the chef left them alone again.

“What’s wrong?” asked George.

“Nothing, of course,” she told him, and made her lips curve in a smile.

But those eyes – they saw everything.

“He mentioned other women. Is that it? Tact isn’t quite Jeff’s forte. Desserts, on the other hand… Here, try this.”

He scooped a little bit of the mousse in his spoon and offered it to Diana. She hesitated, but only for the briefest of seconds, before accepting the offering.

She closed her eyes and moaned softly.

It was possibly the best thing she had ever tasted in her life. It transcended food.

“Oh my God. Oh my. Oh.”

She gripped the edge of the table hard, holding on. It was like having an epiphany.

It was better than an org*sm.

“I didn’t start out this evening thinking I’d be jealous of chocolate mousse, but I think I am.”

Her eyes flew open.

“I…”

“And yet. Here, have some more.”