wearing a thick brushed-wool coat over what looked like a bespoke suit. His shirt had gold cufflinks, and the shoes and watch were expensive. But he was looking at her humbly.
‘I got your apology, Mr Fielding. Thanks for saying what you said. It’s all right now.’
‘I’d like to take you out to dinner.’
Another come-on. Her eyes clouded. ‘No, thanks.’
Gently, he put his hand on her arm. ‘Not as an apology. I’m asking you for a date. Really. After your hours. I’ve seen you work and deal with all the bullshit. I’d like to have a meal with you tonight. Or see a movie. Anything, really.’
Dina hesitated.
‘Not if you don’t want to,’ he said, falling back. ‘I don’t mean to harass you any further.’
She thought about it. He was smoothly good-looking, slim, confident. Not her normal style, but . . . who was she kidding? She worked so hard she didn’t even have a normal style. There hadn’t been more than a handful of dates at school – all disastrous. Dina had always thought she’d meet someone at college. Only, she wasn’t going to college. Edward Fielding was, though. And he liked her . . .
‘Maybe a dinner wouldn’t hurt. Sure, I guess.’
‘Do you live round here?’
‘Downtown.’ She gave him the address.
‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’
He was there punctually, knocking on her door. He didn’t bring flowers, which Dina appreciated. That would have been cheesy.
‘Wow!’ Edward glanced around the inside of her apartment. ‘Stylish.’
‘You can come in for a second.’ Dina was wearing a simple red dress, one of her favourites: DKNY and bought at Saks in the sale. She loved the way it clung to her curves, sat at the knee. This was the first chance she’d had to show off her style since she left her mom’s house.
Dina Kane had no jewels, and needed none. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, swept up in a regal up-do. She wore heels with a platform and a rounded toe, mid-height, and carried a small hand-held purse in dark green mock crocodile.
He looked her up and down. ‘Nice.’
Her elegance was one thing – almost incongruous on that young body – but her face was something else. Edward was used to the pretty girl at the café, rushed off her feet, her face almost make-up free, like a weapon against the catcalls. Tonight she had paid attention to her beauty – a wash of tinted moisturiser, sheer against that teenage skin; a slick of bronzer, high on her cheekbones; glittering golden shadow with bronze liner and unusual navy mascara that made her huge eyes stand out. On her lips, there was a pale golden-brown gloss. She looked almost Egyptian, like a supermodel, like somebody else.
Edward Johnson – a.k.a. Fielding – was taking an inventory of the night so far. His dumb-ass friends were like a bull in a china shop. You couldn’t get a chick like this just by calling her out. She would need work , more than the average bridge-and-tunnel skirt.
Right now, he was totally sure she was worth it.
Dina Kane was full of surprises. She did some management work at the coffee shop – so she was not just a waitress. This apartment, well, it was the size of a postage stamp, but the interior looked like it had been designed by a pro. There was space to stretch; it was clean, bright, popped with colour. The dress looked great on those curves. The up-do was classy. The make-up . . . Well, she was transformed; she was a supermodel.
Edward had a brief moment of doubt. Wasn’t this a different girl? One he could take home to Momma?
Then he put it aside. Mixed relationships didn’t do well. Dina Kane was a glorified waitress. She had attitude in that shop. There was a bet on as to who would bang her first. He was about to win that bet.
The fellows had been throwing themselves right at her for months . Pulling this chick would seal his college legend. Nobody had even got to first base with Dina.
Watch and learn, boys. Watch and learn.
‘The
‘I got your apology, Mr Fielding. Thanks for saying what you said. It’s all right now.’
‘I’d like to take you out to dinner.’
Another come-on. Her eyes clouded. ‘No, thanks.’
Gently, he put his hand on her arm. ‘Not as an apology. I’m asking you for a date. Really. After your hours. I’ve seen you work and deal with all the bullshit. I’d like to have a meal with you tonight. Or see a movie. Anything, really.’
Dina hesitated.
‘Not if you don’t want to,’ he said, falling back. ‘I don’t mean to harass you any further.’
She thought about it. He was smoothly good-looking, slim, confident. Not her normal style, but . . . who was she kidding? She worked so hard she didn’t even have a normal style. There hadn’t been more than a handful of dates at school – all disastrous. Dina had always thought she’d meet someone at college. Only, she wasn’t going to college. Edward Fielding was, though. And he liked her . . .
‘Maybe a dinner wouldn’t hurt. Sure, I guess.’
‘Do you live round here?’
‘Downtown.’ She gave him the address.
‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’
He was there punctually, knocking on her door. He didn’t bring flowers, which Dina appreciated. That would have been cheesy.
‘Wow!’ Edward glanced around the inside of her apartment. ‘Stylish.’
‘You can come in for a second.’ Dina was wearing a simple red dress, one of her favourites: DKNY and bought at Saks in the sale. She loved the way it clung to her curves, sat at the knee. This was the first chance she’d had to show off her style since she left her mom’s house.
Dina Kane had no jewels, and needed none. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, swept up in a regal up-do. She wore heels with a platform and a rounded toe, mid-height, and carried a small hand-held purse in dark green mock crocodile.
He looked her up and down. ‘Nice.’
Her elegance was one thing – almost incongruous on that young body – but her face was something else. Edward was used to the pretty girl at the café, rushed off her feet, her face almost make-up free, like a weapon against the catcalls. Tonight she had paid attention to her beauty – a wash of tinted moisturiser, sheer against that teenage skin; a slick of bronzer, high on her cheekbones; glittering golden shadow with bronze liner and unusual navy mascara that made her huge eyes stand out. On her lips, there was a pale golden-brown gloss. She looked almost Egyptian, like a supermodel, like somebody else.
Edward Johnson – a.k.a. Fielding – was taking an inventory of the night so far. His dumb-ass friends were like a bull in a china shop. You couldn’t get a chick like this just by calling her out. She would need work , more than the average bridge-and-tunnel skirt.
Right now, he was totally sure she was worth it.
Dina Kane was full of surprises. She did some management work at the coffee shop – so she was not just a waitress. This apartment, well, it was the size of a postage stamp, but the interior looked like it had been designed by a pro. There was space to stretch; it was clean, bright, popped with colour. The dress looked great on those curves. The up-do was classy. The make-up . . . Well, she was transformed; she was a supermodel.
Edward had a brief moment of doubt. Wasn’t this a different girl? One he could take home to Momma?
Then he put it aside. Mixed relationships didn’t do well. Dina Kane was a glorified waitress. She had attitude in that shop. There was a bet on as to who would bang her first. He was about to win that bet.
The fellows had been throwing themselves right at her for months . Pulling this chick would seal his college legend. Nobody had even got to first base with Dina.
Watch and learn, boys. Watch and learn.
‘The
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