Pieces of Perfect by Elizabeth Hayley Page A

out.”
 
    *               *              *
     
    The restaurant was two stories, with a bar on the main level and dinner seating on the lower level. Dimly lit with small cozy tables sprinkled throughout, it had a kind of comfortably intimate quality to it.
    Adam checked in with the hostess, a girl who look ed to be in her early twenties and was dressed in a black skirt and black top. She was pretty, and I suddenly felt self-conscious of the way I looked next to her. She led us downstairs, seated us at a small table against a brick wall, and handed us our menus. “Your server will be right with you,” she said.
    Our waitress arrived shortly after, and as I studied my menu, Adam ordered a hot seafood antipasto as an appetizer and a bottle of something I couldn't pronounce. He looked up from the wine list and over to me. “Did you want something to drink?”
    Was he serious? Did he plan to drink the entire bottle of wine himself? I thought it had been for the two of us. “Uh . . .” I just stared at him.
    Thankfully he interrupted my puzzlement. “Just kidding,” he said with a boyish grin. “I figured you’d know I was joking. Do I strike you as a raging alcoholic or something?” He chuckled as he turned toward the waitress. “I think that’ll be all for now.  Thank you.”
    We sat in silence for a few moments before he finally broke it. “So what are you in the mood for?”
    My mind flashed back to yesterday afternoon. It was the same question Max had asked me in his Range Rover before our little tryst, but said in such a different way. More innocent, more genuine. But in my mind, no less seductive.
    I busied myself reading over the menu, still slightly embarrassed that I actually thought he was only ordering the wine for himself. “Everything looks great here. I have no idea what to get.”
    “I guess that explains the name.”
    I looked up at him, confused.
    “La Scelta,” he said. “It means ‘The Choice.’”
     
    *               *              *
     
    “So you obviously know more about me than I do about you,” I prompted. “Tell me a little about yourself.”
     
    “Well, you know more about me than you think. You know I have a 12 year old daughter, I enjoy coffee, and I like to start clubs. What more is there?” he said with a little laugh.
     
    I loved the way I felt when he smiled.  Like he righted the world with it.  It was the kind of smile that begged to be returned.  So I did.
    He continued.  “I’m really an open book. But I guess I’ll start with the small stuff. I grew up in Montgomery County and went to Drexel for architecture. I’ve worked for a local firm now for about eight years.”
    “What do you design?” I was genuinely interested.
    “I’ve designed commercial buildings in the past, but now I work mostly on custom homes. People pay us to design the house of their dreams, basically. It’s fun. I design the blueprints and then oversee the construction here and there as well.  It gets me out of the office. I like to get my hands dirty every now and then.”
    The thought of this man, who was so well-dressed, so put together, getting dirty was such a turn on.
    “Drexel is actually where I met Eva’s mother. Not first date material, I know, but you heard me mention her at the conference, so I figure I’ll just tell you sooner rather than later. Eva was born when I was 20 and we were sophomores in college. Jessica and I . . . we just weren’t good together. We tried to make it work for Eva’s sake for a few months after she was born, but things ultimately started to fall apart. Jessica couldn’t take it. The stress, I guess. She left.” He was struggling to maintain eye contact throughout his explanation, as this was clearly something he seldom discussed.  “The rest is history, really. I started working full-time, and was able to finish school and still raise Eva with the help of my parents.”
    The thought of