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Another mojito? by Grady

She glanced demurely across the two-foot circle of a table at him. What a catch. His work shirt was only slightly ill-fitting, his hair feigned casualness. He couldn't stop looking at her. It may have been the needless extra half-inch of cleavage she had allowed.

There really wasn't any need to try. His work-weary eyes and somewhat hunched shoulders showed that he could use some fun. His seemingly lackadaisical approach, charming smile and the comfortable way he asked her out meant that he'd taken girls here before. The Portland City Grill, 30 floors up in the highest building in Portland. Live piano, mood lighting, finely dressed servers and food that deserved to be called cuisine, not just food.

Oh, and how readily he offered to buy her drinks.

"Do you like mojitos? People tell me they make them well up here," he said with a glance around the room that didn't disguise how pleased he was with his choice of surroundings. He would have no trouble paying for the meal, or offering to drive her home - his place or hers. And at this point, why not? He was charming after all, wearing the watch his dad gave him.

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