The Coffee Shop by Lauren Hunter Page A

what Incontro means, don’t you?”
    Annie paused. “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
    “It means encounter or meeting.”
    Annie stared at him and picked up her wine and took a sip.
    “I thought you hated the taste of wine?”
    “I do. And I have just confirmed it. I really hate the taste of wine.” Shaking her head, she waved her hand in front of her as if somehow that would remove the taste from her mouth. “Call me unsophisticated. Hell, call me a bumpkin, whatever that means, but I will never like the taste of wine.”
    “Why do I get the feeling you think that unless you drink wine that you are somehow unworthy of being considered?”
    “Considered what?”
    “I don’t know, but whatever you are thinking, you’re wrong. Oh, and did I just hear you curse?”
    “Did I?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, there you go. That’s what I was trying to tell you, when I am being stared at and feel under stress I become — ”
    “You are feeling under stress?”
    “The two of them staring at us, her envisioning me surrounded by a dozen bambinos? That’s enough to make any girl nervous.”
    “Tonight’s special.” Mr. Giordano was standing over them, two steaming hot plates in his hand. Placing the plates down before them, he stood proudly staring down at his creation. “Seafood fettuccine Alfredo.”
    Annie nodded vigorously as she gave Mr. Giordano a big smile. Digging her fork into the noodles, she twisted them around the tines as she twirled them in the sauce. Taking a big bite, she made loud, appreciative noises as Mr. Giordano beamed down at her.
    “You enjoy!”
    “We will,” she said through a mouthful of food. Derrick smiled at her.
    “Well, at least this way we can get an idea of how it’s supposed to look and taste.”
    Derrick took a generous mouthful and held Annie’s gaze as he chewed. “This tastes a lot like ours did.”
    “Yes, I was about to say the same thing.”
    “I have to say, I am, well, I’m shocked.”
    “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Mr. Sloane.”
    “Well, I know I can’t cook worth a damn, and you admitted as much, so that we managed to do as well as we did… Why, it’s a miracle.”
    “All right. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it that.”
    “Well, I would. I can’t toast bread without screwing it up somehow.”
    “Now you’re just exaggerating.”
    “Well, maybe a little.”
    They continued eating their meal, and Derrick sipped at his wine. “You never did tell me what you thought about the name of the restaurant.”
    “I didn’t, did I?” He watched as she ran her finger along the rim of her wine glass. “To be honest, I don’t know what to think. This whole thing…”
    “I know. I’ve only known you for just over a month, and for me, it’s like I’ve known you my whole life.” She didn’t respond, but he could tell from her reaction that she had thought the same thing herself, even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud. He didn’t want to rush her, or pressure her, but he wanted so desperately to be so much closer to the woman he already knew he loved. And he was so afraid if he tried to hurry it any faster that he may lose her altogether. “Annie?”
    “Hmm?”
    “You okay?”
    “Uh-hmm.” She reached out taking his hand. “It’s the strangest thing. I’ve only just met you, as far as I am concerned, and it’s like. God, if this were a movie you’d be saying how corny this all is and changing the channel right?”
    “Probably.” She looked surprised. “Figured that’d get your attention.” He entwined his fingers within hers, and looking at her hand, he tried to smile. “I was thinking.”
    Annie looked up at him. “What?”
    “I was expecting you to say, uh-oh.”
    She laughed. “Okay, when you do that.”
    “Do what?” he asked.
    “That hesitating thing. That makes me very nervous, I’ll have you know,” she said.
    “Oh, so you’re a rip the Band-Aid off quickly type of