said enthusiastically, and then bit her lip.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Oh, I know I can get geeky about things like that, you know, it can put people off.”
To her surprise, he frowned, and then reached over to touch her hand, which rested on the table by her wineglass.
“You shouldn’t hold back when you’re excited about something,” he said, staring into her eyes so intently that she couldn’t look away.
She also wondered for a second if he knew how excited she was about being here with him—and how he was touching her hand.
Then she chastised herself for making the same mistake she’d made on the plane, being too hopeful. This was just a dinner, and he was only being nice. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the bag switch.
“Thank you,” she said, gently disentangling her hand from his—or trying. When she pulled away, he curled his fingers around hers, and squeezed. Then he let go.
Oh my.
“Besides, it’s not every day someone finds my work interesting, either. They imagine feds are always busting down doors or hauling in bad guys, but for me, it’s a lot of paperwork. Which is fine. I had enough action in the army.”
“You served?”
“Ten years, four tours to Iraq and Afghanistan.”
Della watched his features change as he talked, how his smile faded and his eyes became shadowed.
“And you came home and joined DHS?”
“I actually went back to college first, something I hadn’t had the time to do back before I joined the military. But school wasn’t my thing—never really was. My military experience was more valuable, for DHS, anyway. So I talked to some contacts, and that was where I ended up five years ago.”
“What were you studying in school? Where did you go?”
“Virginia Tech. I thought I’d do something with IT, but it wasn’t where my strengths were.”
“So you live in Virginia?”
“Well, D.C. now.”
She sighed, fighting the well of admiration and sheer lust that his story aroused in her. He was military, he served his country and he continued to do that. A hero.
A handsome, sexy, amazing hero. Here at dinner, with her.
Their dinners arrived, which was a good thing, before Della made a fool out of herself fawning all over him. As much as she loved the food here, Della barely tasted anything as she ate her chicken piccata.
And as she lifted a tender bite of meat to her lips, she met his eyes and realized he was watching her, his own dinner untouched as he observed her with an intense, hot look.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head as if to break the trance, but his gaze found its way back to her mouth again as she took the bite. “I just...you’re very beautiful. I guess I shouldn’t say things like that. For all I know, you’re married, or with someone else.”
The words made her catch her breath and she coughed.
Gabe was around the table in a second, his arms around her, lifting her from the chair, but her breath came back before any action was needed.
“I’m okay...it’s gone,” she said.
He didn’t remove his arms, at least not right away. Della straightened, but that only brought their bodies closer together. It seemed natural to place her hand on his at her waist.
“Thank you, but to answer your question, there’s no one at the moment.”
Gabe leaned his face down into her neck, breathing in, and then he spoke low by her ear.
“I’m glad to hear that. Tell me if I’m overstepping, but do you think Gianni would wrap this up so we could take it back to your place?”
Her heart slammed in her chest. Was he asking what she thought he was asking? She wasn’t sure what to say...but Della knew what she
wanted
, and went for it.
“I think he’d do that, yes,” she whispered, lifting her face toward his so she spoke close to his mouth, just a breath away from a kiss.
“Good.”
The way he said the word, with so much sensual promise, made her skin ripple with pinpricks of sensation.
“Though I’m