“I’ll have the house salad with blue cheese and the Shrimp Scampi. And would you bring us some of those sweet potato fries, please?” he said, handing the menu to the waitress. Once she left I looked around the restaurant and then peeked over at Jared, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

I floundered for conversation under his stare. Jared’s eyes were an incredible blue-grey; they almost glowed against his lightly bronzed skin. His thick brown eyebrows sat atop his almond-shaped eyes and were just slightly darker than his strategically messy dark blonde hair. His natural highlights glimmered in the early afternoon sun that broke through the windows. He was clearly more than just attractive. I wondered again why he was still speaking to me.

“Sweet potato fries?” I asked.

“They’re famous. Well, they’re famous to me. You have to dip them in these little sauces they give you to fully appreciate them. It’s an experience.”

“Sweet potato fries,” I said, still unsure.

He smiled. “Trust me.” His cell phone vibrated, and he flipped it open. It was more than a text message this time; he masked an irritated look and pressed it to his ear.

“Ryel,” he answered.

Righ-el? I was fairly sure that was his last name, but I couldn’t be certain. He lowered his voice and tilted his head away from me. He was unhappy with the caller, but it was only the tone I could understand; he was speaking what I guessed to be Russian. He was devastatingly handsome, kind, and spoke a second language. If the sweet potato fries turned out to be all that he’d promised, I might have fallen out of my chair.

He became impatient with the person on the other end of the line and hung up the phone.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

I shook my head, fielding his apology. “No, it’s fine. I just inadvertently learned two new things about you.”

His eyes were still focused on mine, but they were a bit fogged over as if his attention was divided between me and the problem with the caller.

“Ryel?” I asked.

“My last name.”

“And was that….Russian you were speaking?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Yes,” he sighed. His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled. “Doesn’t everyone speak a second language these days?”

“You only speak two?” I said, feigning dissatisfaction.

He laughed, and a new twinge formed in my chest. I couldn’t get over his smile and how remarkable it was, as if he had come straight out of a magazine.

“I took French in high school. It didn’t stick,” I said, feeling inferior.

“My dad spoke fluently. I learned from him.”

“Oh, your family is from Russia?”

“Er…no,” Jared said, looking uncomfortable with the question.

“It was beautiful,” I said. “You’re very popular. Business must be fantastic.”