Katarina a tired girl.”
I respond to his incorrect recitation. “I think the correct saying is ‘All work and no play makes Kat a dull girl.’”
“Are you a dull girl? Maybe your job makes you more exciting. Where do you work?”
He doesn’t care where I work, but I play along. In fact, I want to see how much of his attention I have. Is he genuinely interested in what I have to say, or is he going through the motions of being polite?
“I’m a stripper at Baby Dolls,” I declare.
His eyes dart from my legs to my face. I imagine he’s looking to see if there is any truth in my statement. His fingers immediately stop bouncing against the seat, and I laugh at his reaction. It pleases me to see he is paying attention.
“Somehow, I don’t see you pole dancing at Baby Dolls.” He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. His new position divides the distance between us.
I continue to giggle and think maybe a glass of wine was too much.
“Oh, no, I’m much too uncoordinated to use the pole. I’m a cage dancer,” I tease.
He grins and continues to toy with me. “I know, without a doubt, Baby Dolls has no cage dancers. I find it highly unlikely you work there. Since the mere rising of your gown makes you blush, I can’t imagine you dancing naked.” The tapping begins again, only this time with just his index finger on his chin.
“So, you’re a patron?” I give him a pointed stare. “I guess you caught me in a fib.” With a tilt of my head, I shrug. “I work at Java Joes. If you want a great cup of coffee, then come see me. If you want a lap dance, you’ll need to look elsewhere.” My statement lets him know I have a sense of humor, but it also tells him I don’t plan on offering him anything beyond platonic companionship.
“Darn. I was thinking Baby Dolls upped their game. If you worked there, I’d consider a visit. It’s not my usual, but I’d stray off the beaten path to see you dance.” His hand lowers, and he drums his fingers on the seat again.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Noble” I lower my eyes and smile sweetly in his direction. It’s the best imitation of coy I can muster.
At least he’s fun and flirtatious, and I feel comfortable in his presence.
“I believe the saying is, ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms. Cross.’” His blue eyes smile at me as if he is waiting for me to counter.
“If flattery is all you’ve got, you need to step up your game.”
His lips lift into a devilish grin that matches the twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a challenge, Katarina.”
I wasn’t trying to challenge the man; I was just being playful. “Why do you insist on calling me Katarina?”
“It’s your given name. If your parents wanted someone to call you Kat, they should have named you Kat.” His eyes narrow. “Second, I looked it up before I picked you up tonight. It means pure, and after meeting you, I can see the purity in you. You are not a woman of the world, Katarina.” He sits back and looks into my eyes. “Not a cat with sharp claws and a finicky personality. If you are a feline, you are a graceful and intelligent one with a nice touch of mischievousness and a good dose of innocence. It’s such a beautiful name and perfect for you.”
There’s my heart again, beating wildly. How can his words throw me off balance so completely? How did he sum me up in less than fifty words? What does that say about me? I’m young, naïve, and maybe a little fun?
He’s playful, sophisticated, and sexy. He’s also off-limits. Deep in thought, I’m oblivious to our arrival until the car stops, and the door opens.
“Are you ready to go?” Damon stands outside of the car, extending his hand to help me exit. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just dinner.” His smile is disarming. If you’ve never seen a Viking god smile, it’s a sight to see.
I step out of the car as gracefully as one can in heels. He quickly places his hand in mine and confidently guides me up the stairs and into the building where an amalgamation of perfumes and colognes sits heavy in the air.
We stroll through the crowd together. Steering me from group to group, he introduces me to a broad