Trace of Innocence (No Control Book 3)

Chapter 25

(No Control - 25. Everything About You)

The host walks over as soon as we're through the door, before I can ask Jess if she is OK. I recognise him - I've been here a few times.

"I have a reservation for 8.30," I tell him, and he gives us a nod of acknowledgement.

"This way sir, miss," he says.

He walks off and I hold my hand out for Jess to go first. As we walk across the restaurant towards a quiet corner I notice people looking over as we pass. But they're not looking at me - their eyes are on the beautiful girl a couple of feet in front of me in the hot black dress.

Little black dress just walked into the room, making heads turn, cant stop looking at you, I sing in my head.

I need to stop singing One Direction songs. I'm scared she's turning me into a Directioner.

We arrive at the table and the host takes Jess's jacket. As we sit down I request a bottle of Dom Perignon before I realise I haven't even asked Jess what she wants - I just assumed she would like it.

"Is that ok with you?" I ask, feeling like a dick for being so rude and presumptuous.

"Yes fine, thanks," she replies, and she gives me a sort of reassuring smile that I can't help returning. It boosts my confidence.

"So I hope your laptop doesn't mind me taking you out tonight," I begin, and she laughs, which makes me smile again.

"I'm sure it doesn't."

"Well, more fool your laptop," I tease. "What were you supposed to be doing?"

"I just had some data to input into the system," she explains. "I approved a load of applications today but they need all the details to be entered before I can issue the policies."

Oh yes, she's an insurance underwriter. I don't fully understand what that is, and I stupidly never thought to Google it before I came on this date. More fool me, then.

"What type of insurance do you cover?" I ask, hoping her answer will give me more of a clue as to what she does.

"Commercial," she replies. "It's for companies. So I look at their financial information, like their accounts, director history etc, before deciding if they're an acceptable trade risk."

It's becoming clearer. She's must be pretty brainy if she decides stuff like that.

"Wow," I say. "Sounds complicated. Do you enjoy it?"

"It's not really," she says shyly, and I want to kiss her because she looks so cute. "But yeah, I absolutely love it. I find it really interesting looking into company accounts and seeing how they fare. And my office is great, I have some good friends there."

"That's great," I nod. I love her enthusiam for everything. It's infectious. "I can't imagine being stuck in a job you hate, day in, day out."

"Me neither," she says, and then she bites her lip and looks at the wall like she's embarrassed. "I know my job would probably bore most people silly but I'm a bit of a nerd so it's right up my street."

Is she serious? She's not a nerd, and it doesn't sound boring - not the way she talks about it anyway. Every word that comes out of her mouth sounds hot. Like, she could be talking about watching paint dry and I think I'd still want her to explain it in more detail.

This thought makes me laugh. "You're not a nerd. And there's nothing wrong with nerds anyway."

The host reappears before she can say anything else, and pours our champagne. I clink my glass with hers and we take a sip. I need to go easy on this because I am driving.