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Having had her attention focused elsewhere for the day hadn't seemed to have cured her of her attraction to him. Taking his proffered hand, the color rose in her cheeks once more as their fingers slid against each other. /Just this simple touch is doing this to me,/ she marveled.

Dinner with him sounded good, and suddenly, she realized she'd managed to skip lunch altogether. She'd been so lost in the case she'd been reading that the noon hour and come and gone without a trace. Her stomach grumbled in complaint, which made her chuckle at herself as she was drawn to her feet. Oh, it felt good to stand after so many hours sitting! Yet, even that sensation was barely noticeable next to the heat and texture of this man's fingers around hers, a heat and texture that sent waves of weakness through her to pool low in her body.

She was standing now, so she ought to let go of his hand. Right? /C'mon, fingers,/ she pleaded a bit hazily. They stubbornly and serenely refused to pull away from his. The blush returned in force as her gaze fixed on their conjoined hands, then travelled up to his face. Oh, she shouldn't have looked into his eyes, she thought, falling deeply into their warm depths. /He's a coworker! And I'm no school girl./ And yet, Mia knew with crystal clarity that she could not resist this man. From the marrow of her bones, she was certain they would kiss before the evening was done. /Why? I know nothing about him!/ "What kind of cuisine does the restaurant serve?" she croaked, still unable to pull her hand away from his. The heat his skin radiated was phenominal.

"Italian," repeated Mia a bit blankly. "Oh. Right. Italian!" She blushed even harder - never had she been so shaken by a man before that she'd forgotten something that simple. "I love Italian." /And darker-skinned men, too.../

His hand was still hot around hers. Reluctantly, she pulled it away, shivering slightly at the sensation of their skin sliding together. It made her think of other things people did where large areas of flesh rubbed and bounced off each other, and -that- made the blush complete its return to full force. She could not tear her eyes away from his lips and found herself leaning slightly forward towards them.

This whole thing was immensely inappropriate. Mia had held a couple part time jobs while a student in school, and she knew better than to express romantic interest in coworkers. Yet, the electricity between them made every nerve in her body leap and tingle. He was simply undeniable.

Turning, she picked up her purse, then faced him again. Taking a deep, steadying breath that made her chest move in highly interesting ways, she gave him a bright smile. "Ready when you are."

I'm always ready, Kitten.

That lowered rumble in his voice, the innuendo, the way his eyes smoldered, and the way he 'accidentally' brushed against her as he moved towards the door. Then, the heat of his hand on her lower back, something she felt very acutely even through layers of fabric.

Mia was in a lot of trouble.

She found herself walking a bit more slowly than she otherwise would, enjoying the feel of his hand, even leaning back into the touch. When they reached the front door of the office, Mia waited for Diego to lock up for the day. The parking lot was empty but for their cars, and she felt a little embarrassed of her road-worn Beetle, which was definitely showing its age, next to his slick ride. Obviously, he made good money. /He must be a good defense attorney./

"Should we just take one car? I can drop you off here afterwards - or you can drop me off," she said, not wanting to insist on using his car, looking at him with interest in her eyes that did not match up at all with her words.

/Or we can just go back to your place together... Mia!/ she scolded herself. /I am not the kind of girl to have a one night stand!/

Except that somehow she knew it was going to last far, far longer than one night, if she allowed it to happen. /How can I know that? I'm a spirit medium, not a psychic. ... At least, I haven't been, not too much, anyway./
She took a half-step towards him, needing to be closer to him.

He was such a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out into the street, the car's engine roared; there was a lot of power under the hood. "My mother was wronged by the legal system," she said at last, wiggling against the seat to get comfortable. That leather was cold against the bare backs of her legs! "I decided to become a defense attorney to try and keep such wrongs from happening again. And maybe I can clear her name, too."

She watched him drive, his eyes bright and quick on the road ahead of them. "How about you? This is a really nice car. You must be talented at scoring wins." It was such a -man's- car; it seemed Diego had opted for a vehicle with built in GPS, Onstar, and about every electronic gizmo a dealership could add on. She found herself half surprised that the thing didn't have a built-in coffee maker. Maybe it did, she thought, and smiled to herself. /Maybe it's just retractable or hidden or something like that./

"Red's definitely your color," she agreed. Surprised when he shrugged out of his coat, she was doubly surprised when he then leaned over to tuck the thing under her legs. The brush of his fingers on her skin sent yet another electrical bolt straight through her, and she heard herself make a soft sigh that was almost a moan. Face now scarlet, she adjusted the coat so that it wouldn't be wrinkled too badly.

/What does my boyfriend think?/ echoed her thoughts incredulously. /The way things are going, he's going to turn out to be a certain coffee drinking defense attorney, so it's apparent he's okay with it.../ "I, er, don't have one," she admitted. "I'm in the market. How about you? How does your girlfriend react to the long hours a defense attorney has to put in on a case sometimes?" Mia's voice was very collected, and she mentally congratulated herself. /Please don't have a girlfriend. Please, please, please.../

/...listen to me. Several hours ago, I knew I was above dating coworkers. Now I want nothing more than for Diego to be available./ Turning to him, she picked a minuscule piece of lint from his shirt's shoulder, fingers brushing against him more than was strictly necessary.

Mia felt the car swerve and was deeply gratified at this confirmation that she was affecting him as much as he was affecting her. Sitting back, she let him focus solely on the road. She heard the almost subvocal 'good,' and smiled as she looked out the window.

So he was completely unattatched. Good. They parked, and he opened the door gallantly for her. Stepping out, she glanced at the restaurant; it was the nicest Italian place in town, she was unsuprised to note. She'd only been here once before because a student's budget didn't usually allow for such extravagances.

It was appropriate, though, because this was clearly a date.

Mia had the oddest desire to take his elbow, as if he were escorting her. "Do you come to this restaurant often?" The way he'd spoken of it, the answer was probably yes. "I'd like it if you recommended their best dishes. I've been in school too long to be able to afford much of anything other than spaghetti-Os."

It wasn't -strictly- true; Mia stood as next in line to be the master of the Kurain school, after all. While the channeling dojo wasn't rolling in wealth, the people who sought their services out could and did usually pay very well. Nevertheless, Mia had money enough only to keep her well-worn car in repairs and for basic groceries.

This all wasn't something she felt she could quite divulge to her new friend just yet - it tended to 'wierd people out,' her younger 12-year-old sister Maya would put it.

Unconsciously fingering the Magatama around her neck, she accompanied him in. The hostess took one look at them, gave Diego a dazzling smile for which Mia felt a quick cold jolt of jealousy, and escorted them to a fairly secluded table for two in an alcove.

Mia -did- take her coat off now, hanging it over the back of her chair, along with her purse. Settling in the chair, she left the red-bound menu lying where the hostess had placed it to pick up the napkin to place in her lap. Real cloth, she marvelled. It had been at least a year since she'd been in a restaurant where the napkins weren't anything but paper. "The hostess seemed to know you," she said casually.

"That sounds good. I'll have that chicken parmagiano, then," she said. When he asked about the necklace, her fingers moved to touch it again. "This? It's..." She trailed off, her mind working furiously. It -did- tend to make people look at her strangely, but on the other hand, if they were coworkers now, he was bound to find out about it eventually anyway.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, watching his reactions carefully. "I know it's hard to tell to look at me, but I'm a quarter Japanese. My great-grandparents came over to this country maybe eighty years ago. Great-grandmother was the head of... of a school." A deep, steadying breath. "A channeling school. Remember that line from that movie, 'I see dead people?' ... well, we take it a little further than that. I know this all sounds completely crazy," she finished helplessly. "The necklace is something called a magatama, and it's sort of a storehouse of spiritual power. Trust me, it all really works and it all makes sense, it just sounds wierd when it's explained out loud..."

Mia knew she was babbling and fell silent, half expecting him to either burst out into incredulous laughter (the first type of standard reaction) or treat her as if she were an autistic child (the second type of standard reaction.) A slight pain in her lip, and she realized she was biting it. With an effort of will, she relaxed.

/That went a lot better than I thought it would./ Smiling at him and sagging slightly in relief, she nodded. "Certainly, I'll show you what we do first-hand. I know how hard it can be to believe." /Of course, now he'll have to watch me channel someone - and that might scare him senseless./ Mia was at least somewhat prepared to deal with that, though; she'd done many channelings before where she'd had to deal with frightened clients afterwards.

/Yes, but none of them were potential boyfriends,/ she thought in amusement.

She then ordered the chicken parmagiana with a wine to match. Not that Mia knew too much about wine at all, but a nice white sounded good. When the waitress left, she looked at him in bemusement. "You seem to like coffee a lot," she hazarded.