The girl’s face was white as the tablecloth, her eyes fixed at something over Blane’s shoulder. He glanced that way and saw a small group of suit-clad men. He recognized a couple of them and had no idea why they’d upset Anne, but it was obvious she was about to bolt. “I-I…” she stammered. Blane slid off the barstool and took her elbow. “This way.”
Anne’s feet ached as she unlocked the door to her apartment. She’d had to stay at the restaurant later than usual. The dishwasher had broken so what was left of the staff at closing had pitched in to help clean up. Well, they’d been volun-told to help. Her apartment wasn’t in the greatest area of D.C., and that was being kind. Rental rates were outrageous and although scraping together the money was harder some months more than others, she’d drawn the line at having a roommate.
Anne glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see Theodore—Teddy as he’d now forever be known inside her head—anywhere around. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to sit with a customer. But not everyone was a senator…or a man quite as breathtaking as this one.
If there was something that made a man leap to his feet faster than having a waitress dump a full glass of ice water in his lap, Blane Kirk didn’t know what it would be. Maybe coffee instead of water? No, a steak knife would probably get the quickest reaction time.