respective groups.” She sat back in her chair and grinned.
“That’s good.” Colin nodded. “Damn, that’s brilliant. You must go on a lot of dates because you are very good at this game.”
She nodded to a young couple across the room. “Go ahead. Try again.”
He nodded. “Cause a distraction so they don’t see me looking.” He glanced over at them quickly and then back. “Challenging.”
“If you’re not up for it …”
Colin held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. I’m just suggesting that successful completion of this mission should allow me access to the next level.”
“The next level of what?”
“Us. I want to know your middle name, at least one honestly embarrassing story, and I want to be in your bedroom tonight.”
Grinning, she shrugged. “Deal. Impress me.”
“This is their third first date.”
Beth raised an eyebrow.
“Hear me out, love. Their first, first date went horridly awry. He made an utter fool of himself but knew immediately that she was the only girl for him. Seeing no other option he obviously created a vessel for time travel and went back to try again. Their second date went only slightly better, so he is trying a third time in hopes that she will agree to go out with him again.”
“Do you think she’s going to say yes tonight?”
His eyes softened when they met hers. “I hope so. But if she doesn’t he’ll keep trying until she does.”
“He does seem persistent — what, with the whole time machine thing.”
“He has to be. He’s never fallen for a woman quite so hard before, and first impressions are very difficult to override.”
Beth nodded. “My middle name is Rose.”
“That’s … My mother was named Rose.” His voice took on a wistful note.
“If another man told me that I’d be sure it was a pickup line.”
He smirked. “And it no doubt would be. All other men are total scum. You should give up dating them completely.”
She rolled her eyes. “What kind of stuff do you write? You write, don’t you? You said that last night.”
He stared at her for a moment before responding. “How do you feel about poetry?”
Her lips twitched. “You write poems. Poems?”
“Of course not.” He shook his head. “Only total saps write poetry. I write manly guides to … manliness, and also … motorcycles.”
“So that’s a yes on the poetry? I thought you said something about short stories.”
He sighed. “I write, in general, everything. The poetry is the worst. I’m complete rubbish at it, but I like it the best. I also write short stories — generally in the science fiction genre. I have one entirely un-publishable novel and a few more unfinished, but almost equally unlikely to find an audience.”
“Tell me one of your poems.”
He leaned across the table. “No.”
Beth leaned in and dropped a sweet kiss on his mouth, smiling as she sat back again. “I’m glad I came out with you tonight.” She was having fun, nearly too much fun given their temporary status. The air sparked between them.
He grinned and sat back in his chair. “I am too, Beth. But, I’m still not going to recite any of my poetry.”
“Fair enough, though I’ll bet hearing one would have gotten me all … hot for you.”
Colin snorted. “Doubtful. Besides, we both know you just changed the subject so that you could get out of telling me your embarrassing story.”
Beth nodded to the waitress as she placed their food on the table. Colin gave the woman a quick smile and said, “Thank you.”
“I don’t have any embarrassing stories.” She twirled some pasta around her fork, brought it to her mouth, and groaned in appreciation. Colin was smirking at her. Beth blushed. “This is really good.”
“I’m very happy to see you enjoying it.”
“This whole don’t-mind-me-I’m-just-a-shy-book-guy thing is totally an act, isn’t it?”
“Book guy?”
“You know what I mean. The nice manners and excellent vocabulary come in handy by
“That’s good.” Colin nodded. “Damn, that’s brilliant. You must go on a lot of dates because you are very good at this game.”
She nodded to a young couple across the room. “Go ahead. Try again.”
He nodded. “Cause a distraction so they don’t see me looking.” He glanced over at them quickly and then back. “Challenging.”
“If you’re not up for it …”
Colin held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. I’m just suggesting that successful completion of this mission should allow me access to the next level.”
“The next level of what?”
“Us. I want to know your middle name, at least one honestly embarrassing story, and I want to be in your bedroom tonight.”
Grinning, she shrugged. “Deal. Impress me.”
“This is their third first date.”
Beth raised an eyebrow.
“Hear me out, love. Their first, first date went horridly awry. He made an utter fool of himself but knew immediately that she was the only girl for him. Seeing no other option he obviously created a vessel for time travel and went back to try again. Their second date went only slightly better, so he is trying a third time in hopes that she will agree to go out with him again.”
“Do you think she’s going to say yes tonight?”
His eyes softened when they met hers. “I hope so. But if she doesn’t he’ll keep trying until she does.”
“He does seem persistent — what, with the whole time machine thing.”
“He has to be. He’s never fallen for a woman quite so hard before, and first impressions are very difficult to override.”
Beth nodded. “My middle name is Rose.”
“That’s … My mother was named Rose.” His voice took on a wistful note.
“If another man told me that I’d be sure it was a pickup line.”
He smirked. “And it no doubt would be. All other men are total scum. You should give up dating them completely.”
She rolled her eyes. “What kind of stuff do you write? You write, don’t you? You said that last night.”
He stared at her for a moment before responding. “How do you feel about poetry?”
Her lips twitched. “You write poems. Poems?”
“Of course not.” He shook his head. “Only total saps write poetry. I write manly guides to … manliness, and also … motorcycles.”
“So that’s a yes on the poetry? I thought you said something about short stories.”
He sighed. “I write, in general, everything. The poetry is the worst. I’m complete rubbish at it, but I like it the best. I also write short stories — generally in the science fiction genre. I have one entirely un-publishable novel and a few more unfinished, but almost equally unlikely to find an audience.”
“Tell me one of your poems.”
He leaned across the table. “No.”
Beth leaned in and dropped a sweet kiss on his mouth, smiling as she sat back again. “I’m glad I came out with you tonight.” She was having fun, nearly too much fun given their temporary status. The air sparked between them.
He grinned and sat back in his chair. “I am too, Beth. But, I’m still not going to recite any of my poetry.”
“Fair enough, though I’ll bet hearing one would have gotten me all … hot for you.”
Colin snorted. “Doubtful. Besides, we both know you just changed the subject so that you could get out of telling me your embarrassing story.”
Beth nodded to the waitress as she placed their food on the table. Colin gave the woman a quick smile and said, “Thank you.”
“I don’t have any embarrassing stories.” She twirled some pasta around her fork, brought it to her mouth, and groaned in appreciation. Colin was smirking at her. Beth blushed. “This is really good.”
“I’m very happy to see you enjoying it.”
“This whole don’t-mind-me-I’m-just-a-shy-book-guy thing is totally an act, isn’t it?”
“Book guy?”
“You know what I mean. The nice manners and excellent vocabulary come in handy by
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