He flashes an expression of lust and leaves me. I sit stunned and speechless, no doubt with my mouth hanging open. When he disappears inside the hotel, I smile, then hustle to gather my things.
I only brought two dresses appropriate for a dinner date, but spend an hour deciding which Carlo might like better. Hair and makeup aren't a piece of cake either. My hand 's shaking from excitement. I feel alive.
I don't know why I'm so nervous. My eyes are darting around the restaurant to find him. My heart is racing. You would think it's my first date.
With half faith and half disappointment, I conclude he hasn't arrived yet and turn toward the bar.
I collect my faculties quickly when I see him seated on a barstool, holding up a Margarita for me. He wears tan slacks and a print shirt. Damn, he looks good.
I use the time it takes me to walk the longest thirty feet wisely. I give myself a hearty pep talk on the differences of behaving like an adult woman and an adolescent girl.
With Carlo perusing me every step of the way, I make an effort at a provocative walk. Are you kidding, with lead feet? My heart is not racing any more; it's pounding. I'll have to remember to offer a prayer of thanks for making it there without tripping.
"You're very pretty." Carlo takes my hand and guides me to the next stool.
I still haven't found my tongue and can only offer a nervous smile.
He looks deep into my eyes, then strokes my cheek softly with the back of his fingers. "Relax, Isabel," he says with compassion.
I'm thrilled he has inquired and learned my name and am amazed that he pronounces it correctly, as the French do. I'm also mystified whether it's his instruction to relax or he, but magic is suddenly cast and I'm ready for a drink and conversation.
We spend ten minutes doing the preliminary background reporting. I'm sure there will be a more in depth probe during dinner.
I find him to be incredibly comfortable to talk with. He is a mix of Italian and Greek. He's been living in Southern California since he was a young boy and is a building contractor. He also helps run his family-owned Italian restaurant. I bet he's a good cook. I'd love to taste his spicy meatballs.
I reveal that I'm a computer programmer, divorced, and live in Michigan. We also discover I'm older than he by two years.
Carlo is witty and his sense of humor is an unexpected delight. He continues to make me laugh.
"Come on, I'm hungry." Carlo suddenly takes my hand.
I manage to set my drink down without spilling any as he pulls me off the stool.
Apparently our table has been ready for some time and he leads me straight to it. No sooner do we sit than salads are placed in front of us. Ordinarily I would take offense at my date deciding what I should eat, but somehow with Carlo, it makes perfect sense.
We eat broiled shrimp with rice and fresh vegetables. Margaritas continue to arrive. Compliments of the hotel, there's an endless flow day and night.