Helping Sarah

Chapter 25

Sarah

The last time I went to a restaurant with a man with no other adults present, I had been seven months pregnant and Andrew had taken me out to celebrate that he'd completed drug rehab.

My husband had disappeared halfway through the main course and been gone for ten minutes.

Afterwards, he claimed that he'd taken a call from his boss, but after his death there were lots of moments like that one I wondered whether were true or not, or if he'd been doing heroin in the toilet.

"Have you decided what you'd like?" The young waitress smiled kindly and professionally at Michael and me, her pen hovering over the notepad in her hand.

It was strange to say the least. She clearly thought we were a family and had flirted openly with a giggling Charlie while she found a chair and crayons for him. I kept expecting her to glance between Michael and me and realise that we weren't a real couple, that I hadn't known him for long. That my husband had died from an overdose.

Both she and Michael were looking expectantly at me; I started and looked down at the menu, quickly scanned the options. I had been too busy looking at Michael and the waitress and the other guests around us, seeing if anyone were staring, to see what the place offered.

The restaurant definitely catered to families. Charlie was far from the only child present, and we had easily walked here from Michael's house. It was where he'd taken his sister and nieces, he'd told me on the way.

"Can you give us a few more minutes?" he asked the waitress.

"Sure, no problem."

I grimaced when I glanced at him over the top of the menu after she'd left. "Sorry. I can't decide. It all looks delicious."

"Yes. It does."

My eyes jumped to his at the reverent note in his voice, clashed with green eyes staring at me, travelling over me, all of me. Heat bloomed in my cheeks. Silently clearing my throat, I smoothed my hand down over my dress.

Yes, you heard me correctly; I was wearing my favourite dress outside the flat for the first time in over three years. I don't know why I had packed it when I'd agreed to stay at Michael's house, but somehow it had ended up in my suitcase, and going out with Michael seemed the perfect occasion for wearing it.

Not that this was a date or anything. It was just a shared meal, and Charlie was with us. A date really wasn't possible with a three-year-old nearby. Not that I wanted to go on a date with Michael. Or anything.

My dress wasn't fancy or smart or new, it was a bit threadbare on the hip where my bag was always hanging, and it revealed a good deal more skin than I was used to. Arms and legs mostly, but also a bit more cleavage than my t-shirts ever showed.

Michael didn't seem to mind in the least. When I'd come downstairs to where he and Charlie had been waiting for me to get ready, his gaze had started at my feet and travelled slowly op my bare legs, trailing a path of sensations all the way up under my skirt.

The result was exactly what you imagine.

And all of it had only intensified when his gaze had moved from the curve of my neck down over my neckline.

I could only be thankful for my padded bra. Otherwise Michael would easily have been able to see through the thin fabric of my dress how hard his gaze affected me.

His eyes now had that same intense look, the same as earlier in the hall in his house. When we had stood so close that his scent of male and sun and bergamot had teased my every nerve. So close I had but to sway half an inch to touch him.