Steve's fingers tap nervously against his gun, but all Danny does is look up at him from behind his desk and repeat the question in a stunned voice.
"Want to have dinner with me?"
"Yeah, I can do that," Danny says and smiles.
Dinner is steaks on the beach and a fabulous view and a blanket stretched out on the sand. It's the perfect date.
"Isn't this the same date you had with Catherine?" Danny gives the blanket and wine the fish eye.
"No,"Steve says too quickly.
"I will eat your steak and drink your wine and then I am going home. And I am going to sit in this chair, thank you very much." Danny drags an Adirondack chair over to the edge of the blanket and plunks himself down.
Steve pours Danny a glass of wine and hopes that will loosen both of them up.It doesn't.
Danny thanks Steve politely and heads for the door. Steve trails behind him wondering where he went wrong.
"Listen, babe. Tuesday night I am going to take you a real date. Because obviously you don't have a clue how to do this." Danny pulls Steve in for a kiss that is so quick, it's over before Steve knows it's happening. But it tastes like a promise on his lips, unless maybe that's just Shiraz.
Danny picks Steve up and compliments on him his attire. They trade banter, as per usual on the way to the restaurant, but it all seems laced with innuendo. At least saying, "I can't wait to see you put that in your mouth," does, but how could it not?
The restaurant has candles and the windows are thrown wide to catch the breeze. They sit overlooking the ocean. It really is kind of perfect, but they are surrounded by people.
"Why is this more romantic than being alone and looking at the ocean? I don't get it."
"First dates should a, begin in public until you know whether or not you like each other and b, not be repeats of dates with exes. That's a given." Danny sips his wine, white this time, something French and unpronounceable.
"What do you mean? We know we like each other. I know you." Steve has to admit, at least to himself, that he is having a nice time. The fish is fabulous. The view is perfect. And the company doesn't suck.
"Do you?" Danny smirks. "What's my favorite color?"
"Easy. Brown. The color of Grace's eyes."
Danny purses his lips and nods, impressed. He obviously didn't expect Steve to get that one.
"How many times have I been shot?"
"Three, and one of them was my fault, but it was only a graze. I can't believe you're still bitching about your boo boo."
"You're an ass," Danny says and shakes his head.
"But you wouldn't change me, right?" Steve grins and Danny sighs.
Danny raises his eyes to the ceiling and says, "God help me." Then he looks at Steve and says, "No. I wouldn't change you."
"Then can we get out of here?"
"We haven't even had dessert yet." Danny stares longingly at a woman eating a creme brulée at the next table.
"I am dessert," Steve says in a deep whisper.
"Yeah, OK." Danny waves down the waiter and asks for the check.