Amanda had never tried Ethiopian food before. It was definitely something she wanted to try again, though, at least the tegabino shiro in front of her. The dish was a purée of chickpeas, and the spices and flavoring were amazing. It was an excellent side to the shekla tibs that Lee had ordered, and the combination was more than enough to feed both of them.
In the restaurant’s stage area, a jazz quartet had just finished tuning up. They were beginning to noodle around some jams. The hosts of this newly opened venue, twin sisters who’d immigrated a few years before, had said there might be dancing later. Amanda hoped so, although the placement of the tables in the tiny space gave her a little pause.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Lee as he took some more of the shiro.
“Cost you a nickel,” she countered with a smile. “Inflation.”
He made a show out of reaching into his pocket for some change, but she stopped him with a laugh. “What’s the matter, Stetson? Can’t stand to have your own words thrown back at you?”
“I have never,” he informed her, “charged you for my thoughts.” His tone was grave, but his dancing eyes gave away his actual mood.
“Yes, you have,” she reminded him. “I clearly remember you saying that to me outside the grocery store, the first time my paycheck got screwed up.”
He shook his head. “That was different.”
“Oh? How so?”
“We weren’t dating then.”
“That makes it different?”
His smile bordered on the devilish. “That makes everything different.”
“Oh, I hope not,” she bantered back. “Because I kind of like seeing you during the day.”
“I do too. Most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” She decided not to let the words sting. Chances are he’d simply put his foot in his mouth again.
“Yeah. Most of the time. But not all, because sometimes I just want to pull you into the vault and —”
“You see that as a problem?”
“Of course I do. Because I can’t do it.” His hand slipped around the table toward hers. “That stupid agreement about how we’re going to act at work.”
“It’s not stupid,” she responded automatically. They’d had this disagreement before. “It’s so we can keep working together. You know that. If someone were to find out, Dr. Smyth might break us up and Mr. Melrose wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”
“Hey,” he said gently. “I’m not trying to start another argument. I just wanted to tell you how gorgeous you sometimes look. It’s always on my mind, and there are times it just drives me crazy.”
Amanda relented, forcing a smile and hoping the actual sentiment would kick back in. “All right. I’ll let it drop.”
“I hope so, ’cause you heard Ms. Tesfaye when we came in. I can’t wait to dance with you tonight.” He picked up her hand to kiss the tips of her fingers. “Oh. These taste like the shiro.”
“You see that as a problem?”
“Absolutely not.” He gently sucked one fingertip into his mouth, and she shivered at the feel of it. The gossip in the steno pool was that Lee Stetson was absolutely amazing in bed, amazing enough to overlook his tendency to get bored after a few dates. Amanda preferred not to do such things right away, if at all. That had, in fact, been one of the reasons she’d hesitated about a romantic relationship with him.
She’d been stunned when he’d expressed the sentiment first. “We’ll know, if and when the right time comes,” he’d said that day in the Q-Bureau. “And waiting until then will only make it better. For now, though…”
Since then, they’d kept themselves to cuddling, touching, and kissing — all outside of work, of course — and that was more than enough to leave her breathless sometimes. Like now. When she couldn’t help but thinking about doing more than that as his tongue flicked over the end of her finger. The warm, velvety texture sent sparks arcing up into her arm. “You’re not giving me much of an incentive to dance.”
“Oh, now,” he said, “we can’t have that.”
“Assuming there’s even going to be dancing. I know what Ms. Tesfaye said, and the band certainly seems the right kind. But I can’t see where we’d do it. I suppose you could move the tables and chairs back, but even that wouldn’t give us a lot of room, especially if they’re going to be playing swing music. Mother taught me how to do that when I was little, you know, and it takes a lot of space per couple.”
“Amanda,” he said softly. “I don’t want to dance swing with you.”
Now the electrical sparks lanced through her whole body. “What do you want to dance, then?”
“I think you know.” His voice lowered to a purr. “We won’t need a lot of room for that.”
“Lee, we’re in public.”
“I know. But it’s dark in here, and there’s nobody we know, so why should we care? As long as we don’t get ourselves arrested or thrown out, it should be fine.”
“— fine,” echoed another voice, across the room, at the same time. The voice was all too familiar, and made Amanda turn around in her seat.
She froze at what she saw. “Lee! It’s — it’s Francine! And one of her dates?”
“What?” He stretched to look over her head. “The hell? I didn’t even know Francine liked jazz. She didn’t seem interested when Billy was performing.”
“Maybe they’re just here for dinner.”
“At this hour?” It was already going on nine o’clock, and a Friday night. “I never imagined her eating Ethiopian anyway.”
“Oh, that isn’t fair, Lee. Francine’s at least as cosmopolitan as you are.”
“Yes, but her tastes are a lot fancier — er, um,” Lee began to stutter. “Higher-end, I mean. Oh, that’s worse.”
“I think you’re trying to say expensive.”
He colored slightly. “Yeah, well, I know that’s not always what you want.”
“It isn’t. That’s part of why I suggested we come here, because I didn’t think that — oh, gosh, they’re coming this direction!”
He stood up, pulling her with him, and they slipped toward the back. Navigating the closely spaced tables in the dim room wasn’t easy, but somehow, they managed to keep from calling any attention to themselves. In the corridor that led toward the bathrooms, she pressed her body against his, thinking it would help them hide. That was when she realized it was a bad idea: now she could feel his heart, pounding as hard as hers, and it made her shiver.
Lee’s left hand slipped to its usual spot on the small of her back, but his right uncharacteristically tangled into her hair. She felt his lips warm her temple and had to fight to avoid getting lost in the moment. It wouldn’t be smart to lose situational awareness. “Lee.”
“Hmm?”
“Did you remember to grab the check?”
His breath was hot against her skin as he sighed. “No. But I can pick it up at the stand, if we can get there without being recognized.”
“Let’s wait until they have their menus. They’ll pay more attention to those instead of the people around them.”
“Yeah.” Pulling her a little closer, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “So much for dancing.”
“We can do it another time. Besides, there’s a decent chance Francine’s date is a one-time effort. A lot of hers seem to be. It’s as though she’s afraid of anything longer term.”
“She’s not,” he said quietly, and Amanda was surprised to hear a note of sympathy in his tone. “She’s just still skittish after — well, that’s a story for another time.”
“About you?”
“No, actually.” The hand in her hair began to stroke it. “Look, here comes the hostess now. You want to make a break for it?”
She nodded, taking his hand, and they slid along the wall toward the restaurant’s entrance. The dimness was a good cover, and both of them had dressed casually, so there was a decent chance their luck would hold. And it did. But once they were safely outside, Amanda sighed in frustration. The food really had been good, and the company even better. It was a shame they hadn’t had a chance to dance.