First date
Gene had been watching the clock all day. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a mix of excitement and terror. Promotion board, maybe. Night before the sixty-nine Cup final. He'd tried to stop thinking about it, hating the way it made his guts clench, but he hadn't been able to push it out of his head. And as the hands crept closer to 5.30, he knew he'd get no more work done that day and instead he picked up the phone to confirm the reservation.
Glancing round the office, waiting for the call to be answered, he saw the team winding down for the day. Files being folded and thrown into drawers, keys and wallets being stuffed into pockets, stationery being lined up on desks. His gaze rested, as it often did, on his DI. Bolly was the only one still ploughing on, her nose deep in a file, a pencil tapping absently against her jaw. Gene smiled at her dedication; she never gave up, never made it easy for him. He'd finally begun to respect her for it. Gene was jolted from his thoughts as the restaurant picked up. Gene confirmed his table for two for dinner that evening and replaced the receiver, hoping he'd made the right choice of venue. Something classy, that went without saying, but not where he'd feel out of place and awkward. He'd asked around – discreetly, of course – and this place seemed to fit the bill. He only hoped his date thought so too.
He looked out across the squad room again. Did anyone else know yet? He thought not. He certainly hadn't told anyone, and he doubted she'd have gone blabbing, but you never could tell with women. Still, probably best to keep things quiet at this stage. If things went as he hoped, well then maybe that would change. But for now, caution was probably best.
He hadn't planned on asking her. Good job, really – if he'd thought about it beforehand, he'd probably have made a complete arse of it. Like the trout-and-almonds fiasco. God, he was glad he wouldn't have to go through that again. No, this time it had been more spur of the moment. Drinking last night in Luigi's, talking over current cases, laughing at Ray's attempt to chat up a pair of sisters at the next table, it had all come so naturally. She'd caught his eye, all bright eyes and wide smiles, and suddenly it was as though they were the only two there. He'd leaned across to her, cleared his throat, lowered his voice and just asked. No fancy words, no double meanings or hidden undertows. Just straightforward: would you have dinner with me tomorrow night? And she'd smiled, surprised, but the nod had been clear enough. As simple, and as massively, awe-inspiringly complicated, as that.
Bolly had disappeared from her desk. Probably doing whatever it was women did before leaving the office for the evening. Ray was spraying something into his mouth and stroking a finger across his God-awful tache. Gene briefly wondered who was going to be the lucky winner of Raymundo's affections this evening; it was a mystery to him how Ray was so lucky with the birds given his perm and facial hair. Chris was staring worriedly at Shaz's empty chair – Shaz was probably gassing with Drake in the ladies. He hoped she was making an effort; he'd worn a new shirt, the least she could do was run a brush through her hair.
If pressed, he could probably date his interest in her to that awful moment when she was fighting for her life on the cold tiles. Well, if he was honest, he'd probably known before, but that was when he'd realised – when he'd admitted to himself – that she was more to him than just a colleague, an ordinary member of his team. He'd been so relieved when she'd regained her breath, he'd thanked a God he hadn't believed in for bringing her back to him. From then on he'd stopped making sarcastic comments about her in front of the team, dropped the stupid name-calling, began talking things over with her, seeking her views. More often than he'd expected, she'd been spot on. And then there was her vibrant, vivacious personality, her beautiful, open face and, of course, her incredible body. She had it all. He only hoped she'd share it with him.
There was a knock at his door. Looking up, he saw her standing in the doorway, smiling shyly. "You ready, Guv?"
He swallowed. Gathering up his wallet and coat, he forced himself to meet her eyes. He could do this. It would be fine. "Certainly am," he announced with more confidence than he felt. He waved a hand towards the door. "After you, Shaz."