He leans back in his chair and watches her, enjoying the way she studiously avoids his gaze. She studies the menu in front of her, bending over it, giving it more attention than it needs. Her hair falls over her face and his eyes follow her quick move to tuck the strands behind her ear. It’s a sweet, school-girlish gesture and he realizes that he’s smiling.
She’s nervous. And she knows he knows it. With the little cool she has fast running out, she stares unseeingly at the menu, racking her brains for something sophisticated to say. Too quickly, the waiter comes to take her order and flustered, she orders something she doesn’t even want. As she watches the waiter walk away she resists a ridiculous urge to call him back so she wouldn’t have to be alone with this man. Not that she didn’t want to be. He just made her nervous in a way she couldn’t quite understand.