Chapter Eight
He did not have many expectations. He really didn't. All he really wanted was to spend some time with Ruth alone and not think about work with her for once and to get to know her better. He wanted to see her smile and he wanted to talk to her. That was all.
And this was nothing like that.
Harry had thought he possessed some charm when it came to women. As Malcolm had reminded him, he'd had something of a reputation in his younger days. Juliet once said he could charm the pants off anyone if he really wanted to. And while that was not precisely his goal here with Ruth, he found himself woefully inept.
He had offered to pick her up and drive take her to the restaurant, but she had declined. After the fact, he realized it was probably a rule from her bodyguard. Said bodyguard spent their meal sitting by the wall in the restaurant, watching them. Certainly did not add to the mood. Or rather it did add to the mood, but it was not a mood Harry had intended. They were both stilted and awkward and nervous and being watched like that certainly did not help the situation.
They'd made it through ordering and appetizers. And nothing was getting any better. They sipped their wine and just sat there uncomfortably. All of Harry's attempts at conversation seemed to be wrong. He did not want to make too much reference—or any, if he could help it—to her royal status, which cut out many topics he would have otherwise been interested in. Her family, her childhood, all things he had to steer away from.
"What do you like doing when you're not at work?" he asked out of the blue, desperate to say something.
"Oh," she answered, seemingly surprised by the question. "I…I don't know. I don't really have much free time, between work and other obligations. But I…I suppose I like to read."
Finally, something he could work with. "What sorts of books do you like?"
"All kinds."
Not a very effusive answer. "What are you reading nowadays?"
"I just finished reading The Iliad in Greek."
Harry could not help but laugh. "Why on earth would you do that?"
"I like reading things in the original language when I can," she defended. The lines on her forehead deepened as she felt obviously uncomfortable and displeased with his reaction.
He did his best to steer the conversation to safer ground. "What other books have you read in the original language?"
"I read Around the World in Eighty Days in French last year. And when I was in school, I decided to tackle War and Peace in Russian."
"Good lord that sounds painful," Harry teased.
The wrong thing to say. "I didn't mind it," Ruth replied quietly. She lowered her gaze to her lap where her hands were fidgeting with her napkin.
Their entrees arrived a moment later and they were thankfully occupied eating. "How's the halibut?" he asked.
"Very good, thank you," she answered. "And your veal?"
"Wonderful."
They lapsed into silence again. It was almost painful to Harry, almost enough to make him go off his meal. But he did not want to stop eating because he would be left with nothing else to do. He did not want to upset her any further, since it was clear she was not enjoying herself. Oh what an awful mess.
It occurred to him that perhaps she had only accepted his invitation because he was her boss. That she felt some kind of obligation. He had not made it very clear, upon retrospect, that he would not expect her to say yes. He had given her time to think about it, but perhaps he should have explained his intentions better. Of course he wanted to develop something of a personal romantic relationship with her, but if she did not feel the same, he would not have pushed. And regardless of how this dinner went—terribly, as it turned out—he wanted nothing more than to have their working relationship remain as it always had been. Christ, he'd have to tell her that after they finished eating. He needed to be sure that she would not feel any further pressure from him about this. They could just forget it happened and go back to how they were before this mistake ever occurred. At least, he hoped they could.
Once he made that decision, Harry was quite eager to get this dinner finished as soon as possible. He continued to eat quietly, glancing up every so often to see Ruth fidgeting with something or chewing on her lips in between bites.
It pained him that even as uncomfortable as she so clearly was, he could not help but notice how beautiful she looked. She had put on more makeup than he was used to seeing her wear every day. Her hair was hanging loose in soft waves to frame her lovely face. Her pale blue eyes were accentuated by the dark liner she wore. Her lips had a very pretty mauve lipstick that had rubbed off during the meal. And she wore a navy blue dress that, while not very flashy in any way, was quite different from the army uniform they each wore at work. He wished he could have told her how beautiful she was, but now it didn't feel right to say.
The waiter came by to pick up their finished plates. He offered dessert menus but Harry quickly declined. No doubt Ruth was eager to leave, and Harry did not want to drag this unfortunate evening out any longer. He paid the check a minute later, doing his best not to make eye contact with Ruth.
"Thank you for dinner," she said, as he handed the bill back to the waiter.
"You're welcome," he replied. He wanted to say that it was his pleasure, but he got no pleasure from knowing she did not have a good time. "I'll walk you to your car," he offered politely. When they were outside, he could apologize for making her uncomfortable and promise that their working relationship would remain intact.
He helped her with her coat, as it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and escorted her outside. The bodyguard was already going to retrieve the car for Ruth. "Actually," she said, pausing just beside the door to the restaurant, "could we walk a little? If…if you don't mind?"
That request surprised him, but he agreed.
They fell into step quietly for about a minute before Ruth, wringing her hands, suddenly said, "Harry, I'm really sorry."
His heart fell to his stomach. This was not what he wanted at all. He should have been the first to apologize. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Ruth, this is my fault and I should apologize to you."
"No, it's my fault. I wanted so much for this to go well. I couldn't believe when you asked me to dinner and I knew I'd ruin it somehow just like I always ruin things like this. I should have tried harder to get over it and for us to have a nice time, but I just couldn't seem to and now I'm sure you don't ever want to see me ever again, only I hope we can still continue on as we did at work. I really do love that job and I really love working with you, and I think we work well together, and I just…can we please keep that? Even after I behaved so badly tonight?" she said, rambling so fast, the words seemed to pour out of her ceaselessly.
Harry was slightly stunned. He stopped walking and stared at her in amazement, wondering how they could have mucked this up so badly. "You…you aren't upset at me?"
She stopped walking when he did and looked up at him, confusion filling her face. "Why would I be upset at you?"
"I thought you only agreed to dinner because I'm your boss. I was worried you were having a terrible time and didn't want to be here," he confessed, feeling his cheeks grow warm at saying it aloud.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "No, Harry, I thought you were upset at me for being so awkward about everything! I've been really looking forward to this and I really wanted to go to dinner with you. I…" A very pretty blush appeared in her cheeks and she averted her eyes nervously once more. Only this time she was smiling. "I like spending time with you."
"I didn't think you were having a very good time," he said softly.
She looked back up at him. "I thought you were regretting ever asking me out."
"No, not at all. I just wanted us to enjoy ourselves together."
Her eyes sparkled and Harry very much wanted to reach out to touch her face, but he restrained himself, particularly when she spoke again. "Do you think we could try again? Some other time?"
"Tomorrow?"
Ruth bit her lip. "I can't tomorrow, actually. The president of Jelman is arriving and I have to attend the reception."
"How about the night after?"
"Yes, that would be good. And I promise not to be so nervous."
"I don't want to make you nervous, Ruth."
"You don't make me nervous, Harry," she told him, placing a gentle hand on his forearm.
"Then why were you so nervous about tonight?"
"Honestly?"
"No, Ruth, I want you to lie to me," he quipped sarcastically.
She chuckled lightly, thank goodness, giving his arm a small squeeze. "I was nervous because I really like you and I wasn't sure how I could possibly be so lucky."
Harry did not stop himself this time from putting his palm on her cheek. "I really like you too, Ruth. I think you're lovely and I'd be honored for another chance to take you out."
"Yes, please."
He smiled, matching her expression. "Good," he murmured. "That's good.
They stayed like that for another quiet moment, only this one was not filled with their former discomfort. This quiet moment was rather nice, her hand holding his forearm and his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. But Ruth broke their silence again to say, "I think we should go find Tom before he sends half the Royal Guard to find me."
Harry nodded, dropping his hand from her face and turning to walk back towards where they had left the bodyguard with the car. Ruth took his hand as they walked.