Thank goodness for the casual California dress code. Lex entered Crustaceans Restaurant in Santana Row and knew her simple cotton skirt wouldn’t look out of place. Some diners were dressed up, but others wore jeans.

She actually felt kind of special being seated with such a good-looking guy. Except that George also noticed the appreciative feminine glances he collected.

“Do you know those girls?” Lex nodded at the scantily-clad gigglers who were batting their eyelashes from a couple tables away.

George whipped his attention back to Lex. “Uh… no.” He flashed that bright, warm smile. Lex would have felt enveloped by it if she hadn’t seen the girls over his shoulder still ogling him. Look all you want, girlies. He’s with me.

He seemed to welcome the attraction, which didn’t bode well for item number five on her Ephesians List – the whole faithfulness issue. Well, she had all dinner to weigh him against the List.

Lex skimmed the menu, but she knew what she wanted to eat. Same thing she always got.

George glanced up at her. “Want to split a crab wonton appetizer?”

“Sure. Good choice.” To add to the List: Must enjoy good food as much as me.

The waitress appeared at the table like a genie, and dressed like one too, in a gauzy jewel-toned Vietnamese dress. “Do you know what you’d like to order?” Her bell-like voice tinkled.

George’s eyes didn’t immediately raise from his menu to the waitress’s face – he took a rather slow journey over her slender curves. Lex’s jaw flexed. That was strike two on the faithfulness point of the List. This might be a short date.

“We’ll share the crab wontons. I’ll have a Caesar salad and the garlic-roasted crab with garlic noodles.”

At least he had good taste in food. “I’ll have the same.” Lex handed the oversized menu to the waitress.

George leaned forward. “You work at Pear Technologies?”

She winced. So not her favorite topic. “Yeah.”

“How do you like working there?”

“Um…” Her boss was Captain Hook, her coworkers were nuttier than the seven dwarves, and she was worked harder than the Israelite slaves in Egypt. Not the most P.C. answer. “It’s okay.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Actually, it felt more like the embarrassed quiet that hushed a restaurant when someone dropped a platter full of dishes onto the floor.

“So, Lex, have you read the bestseller by that Asian author who goes by the pseudonym Mr. Roboto?”

Lex blinked. He was kidding, right? “Uh… I don’t think Mr.

Roboto is Asian.”

“What do you mean? Of course he must be Asian. That famous song was Chinese or something.”

She stared at him so hard, her eyes crossed. He was a complete idiot. “ ‘Domo arigato’ is Japanese, and that song was by Styx.”

George gave her a Well, duh look. “And they did that ‘Sukiyaki’ song too.”

“What?” Wasn’t ‘Sukiyaki’ by Taste of Honey or something like that?

He sat back, his eyes heavy-lidded. “You didn’t know that? I thought you would, being Asian and all.” He smiled. All that was missing was a condescending pat on her head.

Her gaze narrowed. Was it really possible for him to be such a blockhead?

Here in the Bay Area, hardly anyone brought up her Asian-ness -it would be like living in Dallas and commenting on someone’s Texas drawl. A part of her was in shock at how he’d been both insulting and idiotic, while her hand itched to smack that condescending smirk off his face.

Control yourself, babe. You’re in Crustaceans and you’re about to have a fabulous free meal. Remember the free part. She managed a strained smile. “You’re so multicultural.” Oh, gag me. “What’s your ethnic background?”

“Oh, I’m an American citizen. I grew up in San Jose…”

To add to the List: No ignorant ethnic remarks. Wasn’t that already in Ephesians somewhere?

While he spouted off on his childhood, her mind wandered.

Maybe she should have politely shut him down instead of appeasing him. This date had already started downhill. Why waste her whole evening?

The burning question: Is the garlic crab that important to you? She hadn’t had it in three months. Ninety-seven days, to be exact. And George was paying. Decisions, decisions…

“You know, you remind me of someone.” He squinted at her. Problem was, he squinted quite a bit below her chin.

Lex sensed another goober remark up ahead.

George snapped his fingers. “I know. You remind me of my ex-girlfriend.”

Hadn’t anyone told him that mentioning ex-girlfriends while on a date was like begging to have his car keyed?

“Yeah, you look exactly like her… except she was cuter – er, younger.”

Younger? She was only thirty!

“And she had a different body.” He sketched an impossible hourglass in midair – something like a 42 – 12 – 42. “And she had a larger caboose.”

The room darkened. A blood-red haze blurred his face in her vision. “That’s a little too personal.”

He waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t mind talking about it.”

“Well, I do.” You cretin. She could barely spit the words past her gritted teeth.

Oblivious to the gathering storm, George leaned forward. “But today’s technology is so great.”

She spoke as slow and measured as a speech therapist. “And-what-is-that-supposed-to-mean?”

“Well, you know… plastic surgery. It can help… people… look so much better.”

She couldn’t speak. Her vocal cords weren’t responding.

The moron kept talking. “You can get surgery for cheap. If you go to Mexico, you can get it for half the price as the U.S.” He beamed at her in friendliness mingled with pity.

She wondered how she could dispose of his body.

George was begging to get decked. With a two-by-four. Or maybe the aluminum baseball bat Lex kept in her car trunk. She’d forgotten to include on the List: Must never mention body parts, or else risk decapitation. They hadn’t even gotten their appetizers yet. He’d ruined her entire evening and she wouldn’t get dinner.

She was starving. She wanted crab.

No, she would walk out on him, breathe fresh air, clear her head, shake the dust from her shoes.

Or she could endure the evening and stick him with the bill. This place didn’t exactly have McDonalds’ prices.

Escape or revenge?

Freedom or suffering?

Peanut butter sandwiches or garlic roasted crab?

A steaming plate appeared in front of Lex – the crab wontons, nestled in a lettuce leaf. Blond deep-fried dumplings.

Maybe she’d walk out without braining George…

Another waiter swept past their table holding two platters of Crustaceans’ signature entrée. Rich, briny crab. Nutty brown butter. Lex’s stomach growled. “Let’s just finish dinner.” Granted, it came out sounding a bit strangled.

George smiled and tucked his napkin into his shirt collar.

Lex paused as she settled her napkin in her lap.

Her look must have clued him in, because he stiffened his shoulders. “This shirt cost me three hundred dollars and the tie is Ermene-gildo Zegna. I’m not getting it dirty. Do you know how much good dry-cleaning costs?”

Why was she surprised by anything that came out of his mouth by now? Just eat and leave.

As Lex pierced a wonton with her fork, its bubbled surface flaked pastry onto the stainless steel tines. She brought it to her mouth. The outer shell crunched against her teeth while the satiny, cheesy filling melted on her tongue. A ribbon of sweetness from the fresh crab lingered in her mouth.

Aaaaaahhhhhh…

George bit into a wonton with relish. “I had a girlfriend who could make these.”

Lex bit her tongue. The pain made her start and drop her fork with a clatter against the porcelain plate.

Her next wonton didn’t taste so divine.

He looked like he would expound on his master-chef-ex-girlfriend as soon as he finished chewing. She needed a tangent. “Do you cook?”