Intercepting Daisy by Julie Brannagh

knees and moved when she walked. Her blonde hair was down and loose around her shoulders. She wore some strappy, spike-heeled shoes. He typically saw her in the conservative skirt, white blouse, protective apron, and low-heeled shoes of her airline uniform. The difference was pronounced. And he was immediately thankful he’d put on dress clothes. He wanted her to know he’d made that effort too. His heart beat double time as he saw her smile at him. She looked gorgeous. Even better, she didn’t bother glancing around the lobby to see who else was there. He was the center of her attention. He couldn’t wait to talk with her.
    She grinned at him. “Hey,” she said.
    â€œHey, yourself.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek and took a deep breath. She was wearing perfume, but he couldn’t figure out what it smelled like, besides something nice. He gestured toward the hostess, who stood ready with a couple of menus and an inscrutable smile.
    â€œYou look beautiful,” he said. “Ready?”
    â€œYes. I’m starving,” Daisy said.
    He also hadn’t met many women over the past couple of years who actually admitted to eating or being hungry. This date was already spectacular.
    Grant followed Daisy into the restaurant’s dining room. The space was dominated by dark wood, large windows that let in the fading light of an evening in fall, and soaring ceilings. A floor-to-ceiling open wine cellar featured hundreds of bottles. Overhead penlights offered sufficient illumination but still encouraged intimacy. Tables for two and four dominated the space. The hostess stopped in front of a table for two, indicating they should be seated as she handed them each a menu.
    â€œYour server will be here in a moment for your drinks order. Enjoy your dinner,” she said.
    â€œThank you,” Grant said as he pulled his chair a bit closer to the table. He leaned forward. “Have you been here before?”
    He saw Daisy’s mouth twitch a little, as if she were stifling laughter. “I thought there was some kind of law that every single person in Bellevue had to go to Purple at least once.”
    â€œI’ve been here a lot too,” he said. He didn’t mention that the restaurant delivered to those who lived in the condos. He’d discovered this when a few of his teammates (who also lived in the same building) had invited themselves over to play video games a few weeks ago. It had been an easy way to feed four ravenous men.
    Purple was upscale enough that people would pretend not to stare at him, but it didn’t have a dress code. He wanted to impress her, but he didn’t want to scare her off.
    Daisy laid her menu down on the table. “So, I’m a bit mystified. When did coffee or a glass of wine turn into dinner?” She grinned, but he saw one of her eyebrows arch.
    â€œI don’t get much of a chance to talk with you when we’re flying to a game,” he said. “I’d like to.”
    She sat back in her chair. He wasn’t a body language expert, but he watched her crossed arms relax as she laid her hands in her lap. She bit her lower lip. He had to smile when she reached up to smooth her now-marred lip gloss with one finger. He was willing to bet that the normally never-at-a-loss-for-words Daisy was having a tough time coming up with something to talk about.
    â€œDo you know what you’d like to eat?” he asked.
    She picked up her menu and opened it again. “I think I’d like the chicken Marsala. What are you going to eat?”
    â€œI think I’ll have that as well. How about a bottle of the wine they’re recommending?”
    â€œSure,” she said. “I’d enjoy that.”
    She was giving all of the classic symptoms of nerves—not knowing what to do with her hands, playing with her silverware, not looking into his eyes unless she had no other choice. She looked like she wanted to jump