This was not a work date

I blew out an exasperated sigh, sat up and folded my arms crossly. "Then why do you keep staring?" I snapped. Maybe it was a little rude, but I was feeling pretty frazzled and I didn't care.

Hans leaned forward. He put his elbows on the table and propped up his chin on his folded hands. "You're lovely," he reiterated.

Oh. Oh. I could feel the flush creeping up my cheeks. My mouth was inexplicably dry. I fumbled with unwrapping my straw, then realized what I was doing and put it aside. I took a long drink straight from my glass.

Megan was the pretty one. And I liked it that way, because it saved me from shit like this. I needed a distraction fast, but she wasn't here and Hans seemed pretty focused.

"You know, Sarah is prettier," I said.

Hans arched an eyebrow. "Is she?" He inquired.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Haven't you looked at her?"

Hans leaned forward further. "Nope," he said cheerfully. "I'm here with you," he pointed out. As though that was a perfectly reasonable excuse.

I scoffed. "When she comes back you take a good look and re-evaluate your sense of aesthetics," I told him. That would put an end to that.

Hans tilted his head and considered me. "I really doubt that will be necessary," he said. I glared, and he sat back, holding his hands up in surrender. "But if you insist," he acquiesced.

I would have been more mollified but he didn't actually look away until Sarah got back.

Sarah arrived with a massive round tray of plates balanced in one hand, and a folding stand carried in the other. She setup the stand one handed and put down the tray. True to his word, Hans was paying attention to her. I was paying attention to him.

I wanted him to take a look at a pretty girl and get some perspective, but if he was creepy or rude about it... that would be my fault for throwing her to the wolves. So I was completely ready to kick the shit out of Hans' shins if it became necessary.

It didn't. Hans gave Sarah a relaxed smile and helped her unload her tray, accepting dishes and arranging them on our table as she passed them to him. It looked like the "sampler platter" was intended for larger parties. There were mozzarella sticks, baked potato wedges, chicken strips, quesadilla triangles... even one plate that looked suspiciously like it only had veggies and dip. We were probably going to have leftovers.

When her tray was emptied, Sarah picked it and the stand back up. She beamed with energetic cheerfulness. "Can I get you anything else?" She asked. "Would you like a refill?" she asked me specifically.

I glanced at my glass. Apparently I'd almost drained it trying to drown my blushes. "Uh, sure," I said.

Sarah departed again and Hans offered me one of the empty plates she'd left at our table. I loaded it up with a couple potato wedges, quesadilla triangles, and a chicken strip. Hans loaded up another plate with a similar selection. Neither of us went for the veggie plate.

I was in the middle of contemplating how likely it was that finger foods would duplicate the straw problem when Sarah came back with a second glass of soda. I spared a glance at Hans, but he was back to watching me.

I can't begin to describe how unnerving it is to have the complete and undivided attention of a man like that. Especially since all I wanted to do was eat a potato wedge in peace. But noooo, Hans had to keep looking at me like he wanted to start with dessert and I was on the menu. I swallowed without taking a bite. The number three with extra bacon was a pretty good indicator, and he'd ordered two for lunch! But there was only one way to tell for sure if someone was really a cannibal.

I put down my potato wedge. Sarah had departed again, so at least this bout of crazy was only going to embarrass me in front of one person.

That wasn't much comfort.

I leaned forward, putting my elbow on the table and holding out my hand, palm up. Hans glanced down at my hand, and then back at me. I wriggled my fingers in front of his face.

"Look," I said, "You're looking at me like you think I'm more appetizing than anything Sarah's brought over." Including her, I managed not to add, but it was a near thing. "It's distracting. So why don't you just get it over with, take a bite, and find out."

I don't know what I expected him to do. If anyone had confronted me with something like that, I would have been mortified. I would probably have blushed a lot, looked away and never looked back; maybe said something crazy and stupid. Perhaps the part of me that takes over in times like these wanted to push Hans into making a denial. To get him to reconsider his behavior and stop it.

But Hans decided to go the "say something crazy" route.

"If you insist," Hans murmured. And then he one-upped "say something crazy" by following through.

Hans caught my hand easily and pulled it to his lips. He was a tall enough man that he had to lean forward and bend his head down over it. His bangs tickled my wrist, but he was kissing my fingertips and I was too stunned to giggle. His lips brushed down my fingers until they reached the fleshy part at the top of my palm. And then he bit. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make me gasp. His teeth scraped over my skin and his lips closed, planting a kiss in my palm just below my fingers.

This was not a work date. This was so not a work date.

I felt like all my limbs had frozen, like I was a wire pulled too taut to move. My mind scrambled, but shock had completely kicked the legs out from under rational thought, and I've never had that on good footing to begin with.

Hans looked at me over the heel of my palm, through his messy golden bangs. Trying to judge my reaction? Good luck to him. I couldn't even begin to figure it out myself.

But I was staring back at him, wide eyed. And my lips were parted because I'd gasped in but had yet to breathe out. I wasn't blushing, though. I felt like there couldn't be a drop of blood in my face. I felt more than a little light headed. Breathe, I told myself, and that was as much as rational thought could manage.

I exhaled. "I am not dessert," I said, and I was surprised at how level my voice was. I felt like I should probably be gibbering or something, but I was just too tense to come apart.

Hans kissed the heel of my palm. "No," he agreed, and his breath was hot on my skin. His accent plucked the wire I had become, and I felt like I was quivering at my core. He kissed my hand again, and I could see just the very corner of his mouth rising in a smile. "But I have always preferred savory over sweets," he confessed.

And, oh my God: Goose. Bumps. Everywhere.

It was too much. It was way too much. I felt like I was so tense I was about to break: the wire would snap if it were wound any tighter. I tried to breathe, and the effort made me tremble. I pulled my hand away before Hans could notice. I hoped. He let me have it. My cheeks were flushed and my mind was reeling and my breathing was ragged.

"I have to..." I tried to remember Megan's advice. "...be right back," I finished lamely. I was past starting to panic and well into an attack, but years of being an anxiety-ridden wreck came to the fore and kept me in cover-up mode. I felt like I was moving with the gracelessness of a spastic marionette, and I managed to pull myself out of the booth and walk away despite wanting desperately to run. Running would be bad. When prey runs, a predator will chase.

The babble of conversations around me roared in my ears, or maybe that was the rush of blood. I couldn't tell if I was queasy or just hungry, but I felt sick.

I saw Sarah and flagged her down. "Where are your restrooms?" I asked like I was a normal person with a normal question.

Sarah pointed. "Right over there," she said. "Down the little hallway. It'll be on your left."

I nodded. "Thank you," I said. I started to follow her directions, but then I stopped, and I held up a hand to stop Sarah, too. "Be careful," I warned her. "He bites."

Then I proceeded to the restroom with all the stately dignity a panicked, broken doll can manage. Which isn't much... but at least I didn't run.