Little Blackbird

Beneath her heavy lashes, she shyly watched him twirl his spaghetti alla puttanesca on the elegant fork. The seductive sounds of evening jazz, murmuring conversation and the occasional clink of silverware enveloped her senses. It had been eons since she had been on a date, and this evening so far had been terrifyingly surreal.

Realising she had been staring openly at him eat, she quickly recomposed herself and bravely opened the door to the dreaded first date questions.

"So, Mr Dalton... You get three questions, fire away."

He held her gaze for a moment, and raised a dark eyebrow.

"Is that so," he smiled and looked back to his plate before he replied.

His strong, rough hand reached out and cradled his glass of merlot, he looked directly back straight at her as he slowly and deliberately took a mouthful of the wine.

"Three questions. What's the boundaries...?” He paused, his hazel eyes sparkling cheekily, "just so I know, I don't want to waste my limited opportunities to learn more about you Miss Blackbird."

She felt the burn of her cheeks as she blushed heavily. Her body was betraying her, and she was certain this man was acutely aware of this.

"Three. No boundaries." She replied, fighting the butterflies erupting in her core. Distracting herself, she broke apart the garlic bread, dunking it into her marinara sauce.

He watched her keenly, and absorbed her intoxicating aura beneath the warm soft lights of the restaurant. There was something exceptionally enticing and mysterious about her blue grey eyes, as if she had a wealth of secrets like no other, and a playfulness that absolutely intrigued him.

He wanted to get through her façade – and his usual style of seduction felt inadequate for this. She was not the type that would fall for simple charms and compliments. This woman was a walking contradiction and he was surprised to feel that he craved to know more about her. He was pointed and thoughtful in his questions.

"If you knew you only had a day to live.....How would you spend your last 12 hours on this earth?" He asked, his eyes narrowing gently with genuine interest.

She looked at him sharply, eyes bright with slight surprise; this was certainly not the normal question she had anticipated on a first date.... Or any date to be brutally honest. Where had this man been hiding all her life she questioned herself internally, while a fleeting stab of guilt went through her for her attempt on his life.

She wiped her hands on the white linen napkin, before placing it gently beside her plate.

"My last 12 hours?" She paused thoughtfully, and looked down to her lap, before slowly raising her gaze again to meet his.

"My very last day on earth? I'd watch the sunrise... It's my absolute favourite part of the day. The surreal colours that change second by second, that unbelievable burning glow when the sun rises, it's like molten gold as it creeps over the horizon. I'd touch the earth, the run my hands over the grass, listen to the birds and feel the wind on my skin," she softly responded.

He smiled at her, nodding with agreement, his attention moving to the stem of the empty wine glass he was mindlessly playing with. She was refreshingly unexpected.

She went back to toying with her leftover pasta, and continued her reply.

"... I'd ensure that the people I love, are left in no doubt whatsoever about how I feel about them, and what they meant to me. I'd want to relive the best stories of my life with them and laugh about all the amazing moments we have shared. I'd have an indulgent high tea, champagne and gin and tonics, and make sure that I've left anything of importance to those I love and treasure."

She stopped to sip her wine, her thoughts interrupted by the rich flavours flooding her palette, and the notes of dark cherry and cocoa of the merlot were quite pleasing.

"Good question," she finished, her eyes twinkling at him briefly and she felt herself start to relax ever so slightly.

"And good wine choice," he commented, as he had watched her sip, his eyes momentarily transfixed on her full, almost perfect lips.

Gathering his quickly dissolving thoughts, he stated over-confidently, "Did you know, that the name Merlot is thought to be a diminutive of merle, the French name for the blackbird?"

"Oui Monsieur," she replied quickly, before she smiled so wide it was dazzling. He watched her effervescence radiate across the room, her eyes bright and intense glancing around the warmly lit restaurant.

He felt the immediate threat of falling for her charms. He remained outwardly cool and calm, but he was already well alight with overwhelming desire for this woman. They had only had one previous meeting; a memorable event to say the least – he had narrowly missed being the recipient of her target practice. He needed to keep his head on until he was sure she was who she said she was.

"Next question, then we order dessert," she prompted him, still nervous about the evening, she was keen to engage in any conversation. She desperately hoped he had not recognised her.

"Dessert!" He grinned widely, and laughed in comfortable agreeance. She watched him also relax ever so slightly, his top few shirt collar buttons undone, exposing sun kissed skin around his neck.

For two adversaries, it appeared there was a distinct attraction between them, posing a real challenge for the assignment she had been set.

“What would you like for dessert?” He murmured breaking her fixation on him.

“Was that your question number two? What a waste of a question Mr Dalton,” she chided, a repressed smile tugged at her mouth. She matched his gaze, the air thickened between them. A heady combination of sheer lust laced with genuine intrigue and mounting respect building between them, doused with the ever present fear of the truth being discovered by either party.

The waiter intervened to take their orders, and she was alerted again to her surroundings. Their plates were cleared and more wine was poured. Once they were alone again, she felt slight alarm in her body, as she felt the mood shift, and she was right to feel it.

“Well I really only have one question for you Little Blackbird.” His face darkened with significance.

She stiffened with his words, and with a slight lift of her delicate chin she replied, “Yes, well that will have to wait a moment, excuse me,” and her eyes glanced toward the rest rooms.

He subtly looked around to where she was implying, and graciously acknowledged.

She stood up to make her way through the tables of the restaurant, and she knew with every fibre of her being he was going to follow her.

Slipping around the corner of the corridor she halted, and stood there waiting.

Within seconds, she felt his breath on her shoulder, as he whispered, “Where did you learn to shoot?”

His hand caught her should and deftly swung her around to face him.

His were blazing with an intensity that make her insides dissolve.

“Your tutor is sorely disappointed in your efforts last week, I’d wager you don’t often miss in your line of work,” he continued with superior self-assurance.

She had become acutely aware of the situation, and aggravated by his comments.

Before she could respond angrily, he cupped her chin and kissed her with a hunger that could not be satiated. Between passion saturated kisses, he murmured her name.

She felt herself melt from within, and just as quickly as he had started, Mr Dalton dropped his hands from her face, before vanishing around the corner.

Leaving her utterly breathless and holding herself up against the cream brick wall, she willed her heart to slow from the manic pounding and sensory overload. The sinking feeling began to seep in, she knew she had some work to do ahead of her.

Glancing at her watch, she realised the night was still young. And infuriatingly, her tutor who not only recognised her and called her out… Mr Dalton, was indeed disappointed with her.

Her mind was racing, and her pride a little wounded, and yet the little Blackbird was planning a second date.