Angelina couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a blind date. Hell, she couldn't remember if she'd ever been on a blind date. And she certainly couldn't recall being this nervous. "Ferfucksake," she muttered under her breath, smoothing cream linen slacks over her thighs and fidgeting with the peach silk blouse for what had to be the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. "He's just a guy. And if he's a troll, well...I'll just kill Cate." Simple enough. Right. Smiling, Angelina looked up as a promising-looking man approached. And walked past. Damn. Damn damn damn. She wished she'd had the foresight to get Cate to tell her exactly what this guy looked like. All she knew was that he'd been in 'the' movies with Cate and that he was her type. Or so Cate said. Oh God, please don't let that be him, please don't... Angelina breathed a huge sigh of relief as a vacant-eyed pretty boy walked past, and was met by a squealing blonde. Had she mentioned that she hated Hollywood? Not that The Grove was in Hollywood proper, but close enough. She could fee the surreptitious stares from a few of the people around her, and resisted the urge to fidget again. Five more minutes, then she was out of here, and on the phone with Cate, demanding retribution. Five more -- "I am so sorry I'm late." Angelina looked up past the small bouquet of carnations into the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes she'd ever seen. This was the blind date? Him? Oh, dear Lord.... All Angelina could do for several seconds was blink. And blink. Say something, you idiot. Anything. "It's okay," she said, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. Smooth, girl. Real smooth. "Traffic?" "I could lie." Full lips parted in a remarkable grin that had Angelina smiling back just as wide. "Truth was, I overslept. And I stopped by to get you these at the Farmer's Market." Once again, he held the flowers in front of him. "Thank you. They're lovely." Oh, God, he'd brought her flowers. The girly girl inside her squealed in delight. Score one for the blind date. Her inner girly girl squealed again. "I'm...I'm, um, Karl, by the way." He thrust his hand out, and she studied his hand for a moment. Strong, capable, long fingers -- very nice. Just as nice as the rest of him. Her gaze traveled up from the charcoal-grey slacks to the light blue shirt stretched across a muscled chest and broad shoulders. Definitely well put together. Score two for the blind date. "Angelina," she replied as her fingers slid over his. That slight contact jolted her, and her eyes widened. Wow. Um.... She could almost feel herself blushing as her brain scrambled for something coherent to send to her mouth. No luck. He slid in the chair across from her, continued to smile. "You didn't have any problems finding the place, I hope?" "No, not at all." She returned his smile. "I'm actually pretty familiar with it." He was easy to smile at. And even easier to look at. "Great." Karl turned his attention -- and that mega-watt smile -- to their server. Angelina was somewhat mollified to see that the poor girl stammered out the day's specials while sneaking glances at Karl out of the corner of her eye. Down hon, he's mine for the night. Dear God, had she really just thought that? "So, Cate tells me you have a child?" Karl said, smoothing his napkin across his lap. "I have a son myself. He's three." "I have a little boy, Maddox," Angelina replied, smiling as she settled into what was, possibly, her favorite topic of conversation. "He's adopted." She couldn't help it. Even as she talked about Maddox, she found her eyes drawn to the small triangle of bronzed skin revealed by his unbuttoned collar. Then he leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table. His shirt cuffs were unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of his wrists and forearms as he moved. Oh...sweet Jesus.... "Boys are something else." She could hear the love in his voice, and thought that might just be as sexy as the rest of him. There was something to be said about a man who loved children. "How old is he?" "Not quite two. And an absolute handful," she said, smiling. And received another smile in return. Angelina quickly decided she could drown in his smile. It was a very nice smile. She adored the way it lit his face up and crinkled his eyes just a bit around the corners. Then she reached for her glass of wine and almost knocked it over. Fuck. His hand wrapped, warm and steady, over hers. She shot a glance upwards, flashed him what she hoped was a winsome smile. "Sorry," she murmured. "It's alright," he whispered back, and gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Flattering to know that you're a bit nervous, too." A bit? Right. She let out a tiny laugh. If only he knew. "I just..." She stopped and took a deep breath, licking her lips. "I, um...it's been a while since I've been out on a date." "I find that hard to believe." He gestured carelessly at her, studied her over the rim of his wineglass. "I mean, you're one of the most desirable women on the planet." "That's because you don't know me yet." Oh, fuck. Why'd she say that? Angelina almost winced. What a great way to kill the conversation. "I mean," she continued, waving one hand, trying to recover. "Well..." "No, it's fine. I know. I mean, obviously, not to the extent you do, but...yeah." The awkward silence was broken by the arrival of their breathless server with their salads and bread. Angelina looked down at her salad and tried desperately to think of something to say. Hoo boy...how the hell was she supposed to follow up that blunder? Good question. She peeked up, saw Karl staring fixedly at his salad. Just great...and now he won't even look up. Way to go. "So...um..." Karl cleared his throat. "You live here, yeah? In L.A., I mean, not the shopping complex." "I've got a place up in the Hills." She picked up a breadstick, then set it down. Did the same with her fork. "Quieter up there." "You like it? Living here, that is." "It's got its perks." "Don't think I could be around this many people all the time," Karl replied, taking a decisive bite of salad. "You ever been to New Zealand?" "You get used to the people." Angelina poked at her salad, convinced it didn't have the dressing she'd ordered. "I've never had a reason to go to New Zealand. Heard it's a lovely country, though." "Most beautiful place on earth." Karl, she noticed, seemed to like his dressing just fine. She wondered if he'd gotten hers by mistake. Decided she wasn't going to embarrass herself again by asking. "You should make the trip," Karl continued. "I'd be happy to show you around." "Really?" The offer earned him another wide-eyed look. Angelina wondered if she looked as much like a fangirl as she felt. Which was rather sad because she was positive she hadn't seen him in anything other than 'the' movies. And everybody'd seen those. She watched him take another bite of his salad. That did it. She was convinced he had her dressing. "Yeah, of course." He flashed her a wide smile, draining his glass of cabernet. "I'll take you on the non-"Rings" tour, show you the real beauty of my country. God, I sounded just like a tour guide, didn't I?" "A little," she replied with a soft giggle. Oh, God...she hadn't giggled since high school. Peachy. Chalk up another one in the ways Angie's made herself look like a dork column. To cover it, she reached for her glass again. "You want another one?" Angelina looked down, then shook her head. Empty. When had she finished it? How many more ways could she make an idiot of herself tonight in front of this very sweet, very nice, very climbable in many x-rated ways man? "No, um, just tea is fine." She put her hand in her lap to avoid covering her face with it. Christ. X-rated? What the hell was going on in her head? Not that it wasn't true. She snuck another peek at him, trying to disguise it by taking a bite of her salad. "Is everything alright?" He sounded concerned. Lovely. Now she was going to have to think of some white lie to tell him so he wouldn't know that she was having thoughts. Lots of thoughts. About those wrists and flicking open the buttons of his shirt. With her teeth. "Everything's fine. Just, um...did you get the dressing you ordered?" Angelina looked at her salad, then at his. That's it. Think about the meal. Do not think about licking the tendon running up the inside of his forearm. And for the love of your sanity, don't don't don't think about licking that tiny patch of skin at the hollow of his throat. Fuck. Too late. "Dunno." He glanced down at his half-eaten salad, then at her mostly-untouched plate. "I don't remember what I ordered. Why, did you?" "I'm not sure. It's a bit odd tasting." Angelina frowned at her plate, speared a forkful of greens. "Here, taste it." Karl obediently parted his lips, took the offered bite. "Tangy," he said, faint frown lines appearing between his brows. "Is yours supposed to be tangy?" "I...um..." Angelina frowned, peered down at her salad again. "I'm not sure." How incredibly intelligent. God, she sounded like a complete idiot. "You wanna switch?" She glanced up to see Karl handing over his plate, conciliatory smile gracing those full, lovely lips. "Nono, it's okay." She smiled, trying desperately to come up with a graceful way out of this mess. "It doesn't taste bad. Just...I guess I wasn't expecting it to be this tangy." "Here, c'mon, take mine." In a swift move, he switched both plates, smile still bright. "I like tangy, it's fine," he said. "'Sides, if you don't eat, I'll think you're like every other actress I've ever met." "I'm not," Angelina replied, still blinking at the rapid maneuver. "I eat like a pig." The second the words were out, her hand flew up to cover her mouth and her eyes went wide. OhGodohGod... Of all the fucking things to admit... "Like a pig, huh?" Karl chuckled. The sound wrapped around her ears like velvet, and she clutched the napkin in tight fists to keep from leaning forward, tasting the laughter for herself. What the fuck was wrong with her? He was just a guy. Just a guy. Right. That was like saying Steven Spielberg was just a director. "Pretty much." She smiled again, responding to his warm grin, and tried to relax. He really was just a guy. Granted, he was a really sexy, incredible smelling, nice, and probably damn near perfect in bed guy, but still... What the hell?? Probably damn near perfect in bed? Where had that come from? And could the floor please just open up and swallow her now? Anything to keep him from asking her what had her face flaming. Karl toyed with the stem of his wine glass before taking another sip, and her gaze strayed to his fingers again. Wondered what they'd feel like. Wondered what the hell was wrong with her that she was wondering this about a total stranger. "Tell me what you like, then." "Acting, helping people, spending time with Maddox, cooking." She paused, head tilted just a bit as she tried to avoid staring at his fingers. Sex. Um...did she say that out loud? Fuck. Angelina kept her eyes fixed firmly on his wine glass, trying to keep from looking up and confirming that she had, indeed, said the last one aloud. "Cooking and sex or cooking before sex? Or after, because that could be considered dessert where I come from." Oh fuck, she had. Fuckfuckfuck... "Oh, all of them," she said, wiggling her fingers in a very vague manner. Nothing like brazening it out. Besides, she'd already dug herself in too deep to back out now. "Busy woman." At least he sounded amused and not appalled. "I can be." A slow smile curved her lips. Oh, good. And now she was flirting with him. "Really?" A dark eyebrow lifted, and his lips curved again. She thought maybe she could live on just his smile. "Alright, who ordered the rare and who ordered medium?" Angelina blinked up in confusion, met their server's perky grin. "Pardon?" "Your steaks?" The server gestured at the plates currently draped over her arm. "Who had what?" "Oh, um, I had the rare. That much I'm sure of," Karl said, and gave Angelina's hand a small squeeze. She had to bite her tongue to keep from letting out a very undignified squeak. He was touching her. Oh, dear God, he was touching her. And she decided she'd give just about anything if he didn't stop. That was right about the time Angelina realized she was in deep trouble. Their server bustled around for a minute, refilling wine and water glasses, sprinkling cracked pepper on each plate, and Angelina took the time to compose herself. Get a grip. He was just a guy. She didn't know anything about him. Besides that he looked and smelled great and had a nice smile. Oh, and there was the sense of humour. And the deep accent. And... "Are you praying to the carnivorous gods or were you wanting to switch plates again?" "What? Oh...oh, no." Angelina could feel her face flaming as she ducked her head. "I was just..." "Just?" Karl asked gently after several minutes. He smiled when she lifted her eyes. "Thinkingabouthowgoodyousmell." "Me?" Karl pointed to himself. "I smell good?" Angelina wondered if she could possibly fit her foot any farther into her mouth. Perhaps both feet. "Very good," she mumbled, shoving loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Thanks." He smiled, reaching for her hand again, fingers curled warm around hers. "Or maybe I should tell you to thank the hotel. Since they put out the soap and all." "It's nice," she said, smiling back at him even as her fingers -- almost as if the damn things had a mind of their own -- flexed against his, clasping them. Traitors. "I'll be certain to bathe with it only from now on." His wink was positively the most lethal thing ever, she decided. Sent heat pooling between her thighs in a way that had her blushing again, casting her eyes downward in an effort to keep from leaping across the table and molesting him then and there on top of his steak and potato. Of course, that particular urge led her mind to the near scandalous wondering of what the steak sauce would taste like if she licked it off his chest. Hello, hormones. What the hell was wrong with her? It was bad enough that she'd already made herself look like a completely inept dork, but could she possibly get through dinner -- and the movie afterward...oh, God, the movie! -- without having a spontaneous orgasm when the man winked at her? Her body, apparently, had other ideas. "So, are we eating or is this where we skip straight to the sex during the meal part?" Had he just...no. No, he hadn't. Angelina blinked owlishly into laughing eyes. Oh fuck me, he had. "Would it be terribly presumptuous of me to say I'd rather save the sex for dessert...and breakfast?" The words were out before she could stop them. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. And all she could do was sit there and blink at him, face flaming, hand limp in his. Karl threw his head back and laughed, the bright sound causing heads to turn in their direction. "That's the woman I've been waiting to see all night," he grinned, squeezing her unresponsive hand. "I think I can wait until breakfast if you can. But only if there's honey involved." "I have honey at home," Angelina offered, tentative smile on her lips. His hand was so warm. "For my tea." "Do you?" His voice was husky, hinted that things she couldn't quite name. Wasn't sure there was a name. But she wanted -- badly -- to find out. "Imported Greek honey." Her voice dropped to match his, and she found herself snared by the look in his eyes. "Brand new bottle bought just yesterday." A pink tongue darted out to trace those lovely, full lips. "How big's the bottle?" Angelina leaned forward, lower lip caught between her teeth, and twisted her hand under his so her fingertips slid over the inside of his wrist. "Big enough." She felt his shudder clear to her toes. "Angelina..." He focused those gorgeous eyes on her, seemed to sear though her skin to her blood, and the intensity sent her every nerve scrambling into overdrive. "You need to let go of my hand. Or we won't make it out of the restaurant." Slowly, so slowly she wasn't sure she was moving at all, Angelina sat back in her chair. As her hand left his, she felt cold, bereft, and had to fight the urge to touch him again. Instead, she contented herself with watching him through her lashes. He was, she admitted, a stunning man. And it seemed as if she wasn't the only one affected by the...whatever it was between them. "Thank you." He didn't sound too thankful about it. She knew how he felt. "So," she said, voice low. One pale peach painted nail traced aimless designs on the tablecloth. "Sex after dinner, then." His smile was small, but genuine. "Suppose that means we should eat." "Building up your energy?" She grinned at his startled look. "Good thing. You're going to need plenty of it." To his credit, he recovered quickly. "What makes you think you're not?" "Oh, I plan on making sure I have plenty of energy." To emphasize her words, she lifted a bite of steak to her mouth, grinning at him as she slid it between her lips. "Suppose I'll have to keep up then," Karl replied, cutting his own bite. "You think you can?" The words were almost purred as she smiled and leaned forward. "Oh, yeah." The promise in his eyes had her shivering again. "Definitely." "I think," Angelina said, reaching out to tap the back of his hand with one finger, "that I'm going to hold you to that." He grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. "I look forward to it." Her breath caught in her throat. A man's lips weren't supposed to be that soft, like raw silk brushing over her skin. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, she couldn't look away...all she could do was try to keep from melting into a puddle in her chair. Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, Karl moved his lips from finger to finger, placing tiny kisses to each one, then moving to her wrist. His teeth scraped in a gentle slide across aching skin. Definitely a puddle. "Karl..." Angelina paused, took a deep breath. Fuck, it was hard to concentrate with him doing that. "If you keep doing that..." Another pause as her tongue slid over her bottom lip. "We're not going to finish dinner." "Take out?" It was a hopeful plea muttered against her palm. "Consider it a midnight snack." "You or dinner?" "Whichever you'd prefer." Karl studied his plate in silence for a moment. Angelina waited -- breathless -- for his next move. When he lifted his head, her heart caught in her throat. "Check, please." Surprisingly, after all that happened, she was calm. The horrible nerves from earlier were gone, and Angelina found herself relaxing under his unwavering gaze. "You want this to go?" he asked, carelessly gesturing at their barely touched meals. The server hovered about helpfully. Neither one noticed. "Sure." Her eyes never left his. Her hand, still trapped in his, made no effort to escape. "I can always make steak sandwiches at midnight." "You got any A-1?" "Half a bottle," Angelina grinned. "Alright, then." Karl's grin matched hers. "It's a date."
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