Chapter Fifteen
Maybe she had been a tiny bit worried that Herschel would show up for dinner in clueless, badly chosen clothing, but she was pleased to find, when she picked him up outside his hotel the next evening, that he was wearing a stylish pair of designer blue jeans and the nicest shirt she’d yet seen him in. It wasn’t that she was shallow—although a man who took pride in his appearance was a turn-on—but she’d spent more time that she’d admit picking out her outfit for the evening and didn’t want to feel foolish. It wasn’t like this was even a real date—just a dinner to celebrate the house deal, which was more than the usual glass of champagne with clients, but not enough to make her think Herschel was going to make a move.
Slipping into the passenger seat, he said, “You look beautiful.” He said it not the way a practiced womanizer tells every woman she’s beautiful, but like a man who was genuinely taking in and appreciating what he saw. Somehow that made her feel way more beautiful than usual. Because, although she’d been blessed with her mom’s good genes, a man hadn’t made her feel special in a very long time.
She thanked him and then looked down at herself. She wasn’t sure how smartly dressed Hersch would be, so she’d chosen a very simple coral cotton dress from the dozens she’d tried on. Now she realized she’d made the perfect choice. It was cut beautifully, with a scoop neck, and it clung in all the right places. She’d added minimal gold jewelry, gone light on her makeup so that it left her bronzed and glowy, and let her long blonde hair flow free.
“We’re heading to Bentley’s,” she said. Because she knew the owners, she told him, she’d made sure to reserve her favorite table—in a corner with a view of the ocean. It wasn’t until she saw his reaction that she realized her mistake. She paused and then said, “I didn’t even consider you might not want to have an ocean view. I’m so sorry. They just have wonderful food, and I figured—”
But he cut her off. “That’s okay. I’ll just be looking at you anyway.”
If there had been any doubt in her mind whether this might actually be a date, then some of that was squashed by that cute, flirty comment. Again, she felt a sweet stab of lust. Because he didn’t pay idle compliments. He always told the truth. It was charming and refreshing.
She relaxed and drove the familiar streets, enjoying the soft evening light and pointing out a few of her favorite cafés and bars, already hoping Hersch might want to extend the evening with a nightcap after dinner.
When they entered the restaurant, they were hit with the warm, buzzy atmosphere she loved so much about the place. The lights were low, and the room glowed. She turned to see his reaction. He looked around and then said, “This place is packed. How did you get a reservation on such short notice? And, I’m guessing, one of the best tables in the house?”
She was pleased he’d noticed that this place was in demand, but shrugged as though it were nothing. “First of all, I’ve lived here all my life. Between me, my mom and dad, and my brothers and sisters, there’s pretty much nobody we don’t know or at least know of. And then, in the business I’m in, you get ’em coming in and you get ’em going out. I sold a house to the owners’ son and his wife. It was a difficult deal, and I saved it for them. So yeah, I can always get a table here.”
He looked impressed. “I can see you’re a good woman to know.”
There was a kind of flirty undertone, and she responded in kind. “You’d better believe it.”
Apart from making sure to get her favorite table, she’d also made a few requests ahead of time. After they’d been seated at the most intimate, candlelit table, two flutes of champagne appeared in front of them. He raised one eyebrow at her, and she lifted her glass to tap his. “Congratulations on your new home, Hersch.”
Before he sipped, he said, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
This was, of course, true, and she was glad he’d noticed. She’d even surprised herself with how fast she’d acted on the house and then wrapped up this deal. Was it just good fortune, or had she worked even harder for this hottie of a client? They sipped the champagne, and she sighed with pleasure. She loved a glass of vintage champagne.
Hersch appeared to feel the same as he took another sip and then asked with a twinkle in his eye, “Have you ordered my whole dinner? Or should I look at the menu?”
She laughed and set down her glass. “I organized the table and the champagne. You’re on your own for everything else.”
He settled back with the menu, which tended to feature a lot of fresh fish and locally grown produce. She quickly decided on the ahi tuna steak with local vegetables. She took a moment to study him. Even just choosing from a menu, his face had a serious look, as though the most trivial decision deserved the most careful consideration. As someone who could be a little impulsive, she found that trait quite charming. When he moved, the candlelight caught a glint of gold around his neck, and she felt herself enjoying every small detail of the evening already.
As soon as he closed his menu with an air of decision, she leaned forward to study the gold chain he wore. “That looks like some sort of charm. What is it?”
Reflexively, Hersch touched the chain and looked thoughtful. “My Saint Christopher’s medal. It belonged to my grandfather, who fought in World War II. He was British and flew for the RAF. His name was Herschel too. The Saint Christopher’s was handed down to me mostly, I think, because I also got his name. He was shot down, but he survived, believing that Saint Christopher had protected him on his journey. I’m not sure if the medal saved him or not, but I’ve always liked the story. Maybe it’s superstitious… No, it’s definitely superstitious, and I laugh at myself regularly, as a man who believes so strongly in science, but I never take it off.” He paused and looked pensive. “Maybe when I nearly died out there, my grandfather was watching out for me. I don’t know, but I don’t plan to take it off any time soon.”
“I get that,” Mila said. “Why mess with fate?” And then she added, “Plus, it suits you.”
He smiled and touched the chain again.
The waiter came over then and recommended the crab cakes as an appetizer, as well as the fresh oysters.
She raised her brows at Hersch, who said, “Why don’t we have both and share?”
She loved this idea and ordered her main meal. She waited, intrigued, to see what kind of appetite Hersch had and was impressed when he chose the steak and lobster. When the waiter inquired about wine, Hersch looked to Mila and said, “I don’t tend to drink much, out of habit from my training, but I’d join you in a bottle if you’d like?”
Mila smiled. He had such a charming way of saying things. She said, “They have really good wines by the glass. I don’t need a whole bottle either.”
So they each chose a glass of good wine. She went for white and he for red. Both were California wines from the best wineries.
With everything ordered, Mila sat back in her chair and really relaxed. She looked at the hot man opposite her and decided she wanted to know everything about him. “So,” she said, setting down her champagne flute, “I don’t meet many astronauts, like pretty much every other person on the planet. What’s it like?”
He chuckled. “The question I get asked most often? ‘How do you go to the bathroom in space?’”
She said, “I’m going to guess you talk to a lot of school kids.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Public outreach is just part of the job.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’m not going to ask about your bathroom habits. What I really want to know is what it feels like to be out there. It’s so hard for me to imagine.”
As she had known he would, he paused as though he was really considering her question so he could give the best answer he could. But he didn’t look away, holding Mila’s gaze as she anticipated his answer. “My last mission was to the International Space Station. When you live there, there’s a small community, and even though it’s miles away from Earth in a zero-gravity environment, it becomes very routine. Honestly, you’d be surprised at how mundane the days are. Full of cleaning and checks and documenting the most minute details. And exercise, of course. We spend two hours every morning exercising to keep our bodies regulated and to ward off as much muscle atrophy as we can. Time in space weakens and ages us.”
She stared at him, not quite believing that his strong, muscular body could ever weaken. But after watching his crash and hearing the commentator mention his muscle atrophy while swimming, she decided to stay clear of the subject for fear of upsetting him. Instead, she said, “First of all, whatever you do in space is not boring, because it’s space. And second, take me back to zero gravity. I mean, do you have to, like, strap yourself down to get any work done?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that bad. I strap in to sleep in a sleeping bag that attaches to the wall.”
She was puzzled. “How do you lie down in space?”
He laughed a little. “You don’t. Because there’s no gravity, you don’t know whether you’re up or down or sideways, and the funny thing is that it doesn’t matter to your body. I tend to go vertical just because, and you don’t need a pillow, because your head’s not going to flop, so you kind of sleep upright, I guess.”
She shook her own head in response. “Now I’m super glad we got you that luxurious new mattress. You deserve it.”
He grinned, and then the fresh oysters appeared.
As they ate, he said, “I may not want to go into the ocean, but I do love the food that comes out of it.”
“And what were you working on up there?”
“A lot of what we do is scientific research. I was a medical doctor first and originally thought I’d practice as a doctor all my life, but I’d always had this fascination with space. Well, when your name is Herschel, and you’re named after an astronomer, you get an interest in the stars and the sky along with it—at least, I did. When I was a kid, I loved hearing all the stories about my grandfather in the war, flying fighter planes, and then my dad was a commercial pilot. He passed away five years ago. Cancer. So I guess flying seemed like something I should do.” He paused. “I just went a little higher than they did.” He chuckled. “I do like to take things to the next level sometimes.”
Mila wondered if he’d be willing to take things between them to the next level. She finished her flute of champagne and then said, “It sounds like flying is in your blood.”
He nodded. “I think so. I already had my pilot’s license, and when they recruit astronauts, they look for people with STEM degrees—that’s science, technology, engineering, and medicine. I had the medicine, but I also had a PhD in molecular biology.”
She was blown away by how modest this man was. “Wait—so you’re Dr. Herschel Greenfield.”
He nodded again, looking almost bashful. “Both MD and PhD. That is correct.”
“Wow. I can’t even imagine what kind of competition there is to get into the astronaut program.”
“Oh, it’s fierce. You have to have the right background in education. They really like some flying experience, which is why a lot of jet fighter pilots have become astronauts in the past. They used to come more from the military. and now it tends to be quite a few from the scientific and medical communities. But yeah, something like less than one percent of the applicants—and we’re talking solid, capable applicants—even get into the training program. And that is rigorous. You also have to have the fitness and the right kind of personality to live in a small space for a long time. We are thoroughly screened.”
She was fascinated and just loved how animated he got when he talked about his favorite subject. It was like she was finally getting to see the real man.
He glanced out at the sky, where the night had crept in and the stars were coming out, and wistfully said, “Do you know what the word astronaut means?”
“No,” she murmured, intrigued.
He turned his gaze back to hers. “Star sailor. Isn’t that beautiful? I like to think the Herschel I’m named for, that astronomer who added so much to our initial body of knowledge about space, would be thrilled to think of a much later Herschel actually sailing around in the stars. I know I’m a man of science, but I have to tell you, being out there is magical. Earth—its beauty echoes through the dark. It’s blue because so much of earth is covered by water and from space it seems almost fragile. I wish I had the words to really describe it to you. It’s the most humbling experience you could ever imagine. You just stand there, gaping, realizing what a tiny cog in the universe you are, but also how lucky you are to be a part of something so amazing. “
She felt a whisper down the back of her neck like the lightest brush of fingertips. He was so sexy and so darned thoughtful. It was almost too much to handle. She felt herself tipping from wanting him into desperately wanting him. Like right now, on this very table.
Trying to get her focus back on what he was saying and not the undercurrent of attraction, she asked, “It sounds incredible. And you describe it beautifully. What kind of research did you do at the space station?”
“I was part of a team working on Alzheimer’s research.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “To make it simple, it’s much easier to look at the mechanics of the disease when gravity isn’t getting in your way. A lot of the best research now is being done in space.”
“I had no idea. That’s so cool.” She glanced at him as their plates were taken away. “So, you’re super smart, super fit, and you’re working to eradicate one of the worst diseases on the planet.”
He paused and looked at her. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it that way myself, but some of that is true, yes.”
The waiter brought their wine, and they clinked glasses again. “A second cheers to the woman who rustled up my dream home like it was a quick omelet.” He smiled. “So I already know from working with you that you’re an excellent Realtor, with an engaging personality and a head for business. With the help of YouTube, I’ve also learned you’re an accomplished athlete, and the other term I would use for you is fearless.”
She chuckled, delighted at how neatly he’d summed her up, and even if it was a slightly flattering picture, it was also accurate.
Then he grew serious. “But I bet it wasn’t easy making the transition from surfing champ to Realtor.”
She shook her head and for a moment lowered her gaze to her wine. Then she looked up and said honestly, “No, it wasn’t. But it’s worked out okay.”
It wasn’t like Mila to go into her sad story, and as though he silently understood that about her, he redirected the conversation and asked, “How did you get started surfing? I mean, how does somebody even get to that level at the young age you were when you were competing?”
This was much easier to talk about. She remembered being young and full of an ambition that at times had been overwhelming. “My dad put me on a surfboard when I was about two years old.”
“Two?” he asked, clearly stunned. “You’re joking.”
She laughed. “No. I had my own little life jacket, and he put me on the front of his board, and we’d ride in together on the waves. It’s a pretty common way to teach really little kids.”
“It might seem common to you, but it sounds remarkable to me.”
She shook her head. “It’s what happens when you grow up by the ocean. By the time I was three, I was on my own tiny board. But he was always out there with me, making sure I was safe and didn’t end up in any riptides. He loves to tell the story of me coming onto the beach and saying, ‘More, more,’ and he’d take me out into the surf again, and I’d say, ‘More, more.’ Of all the kids, he said I was his water baby. I don’t know—I got hooked. I love the water. I love being on it and in it and on top of it. I love to be in wave patterns, figuring out where that perfect sweet spot is. I took dance when I was younger, not because I wanted to be a ballerina, but because I needed better control of my muscles and better balance for surfing.”
He said, “That’s funny. When I watched those videos of you, even when I watched you the other day coming in to the beach or out there surfing, I thought to myself, ‘My goodness, she’s dancing with the waves.’”
She laughed out loud, delighted with him. “That’s how it feels when I’m out there. But the sea is an unpredictable partner, and sometimes it trips you up.”
“Right.”
There was a short pause. “But you were right about having to be fearless. I guess I had natural talent, just something I was born with and that my dad nurtured, and then combine that with years of training, and you’re almost there. But if I hadn’t been fearless? Well, I never would have entered the world of championship surfing.”
There was another pause while the waiter delivered their meals. As he set down their plates, she felt that Herschel was as eager to keep the conversation going as she was. She picked up her fork and then set it down again. “It was fun while it lasted. Now that you’ve seen the video, you know all about the accident that broke my back and ended my career.”
“I saw what happened, yes. But I don’t know how it made you feel. Not just physically, but emotionally.”
She swallowed. “At first, they weren’t sure I’d ever walk again.” She paused, allowing herself only a few seconds to look back at those dark, dark days. “But somehow I knew I would. Even as I was lying in bed in the hospital in agony, I knew deep down I’d surf again. Maybe not at the pro level, but I would figure it out. There are people out there who surf on one leg, and I worked as hard as anybody’s ever worked in rehab, and I got there. I walked again.
“Luckily, I had my own house here in Carmel and the greatest family ever. Everybody pulled together to help me and cheer me up when I was feeling down, and they made sure I had everything I needed and got to all my appointments. So I became stronger and stronger, and I got my confidence back. One day, I told the doctor I was ready to try surfing, and she said, ‘No, you’re not.’ But I knew my body, and I knew I could do it. Besides, I was almost at the breaking point of frustration.”
She paused and ate a mouthful of succulent fish, toying with what she was going to say next. “I’ve never even told my family this, but one day I just snuck out and went to a beach in Monterey where nobody knew me.”
“Were you at all nervous?”
“More than you can imagine.”
He shook his head. “Oh, I can imagine.”
“But when I saw the ocean up close again, I realized just how much I had missed her. It wasn’t painful at all. It was like seeing an old friend again after coming home from a long trip. And without thinking about it, I got out there, and I surfed. It wasn’t pretty, it didn’t last long, and my back hurt like hell afterward, but I did it. From that point on, I got my life back.”
He looked fascinated, riveted almost. “Good for you,” he said. “I’m still struggling with that.”
She put her hand on his. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. “You’ll get there.”
He turned his hand and clasped hers. There was strength and steadiness in that grip. He said, “Yes, I will.” And then, as if embarrassed by his admission, he withdrew his hand and began to eat.
She followed his lead, but then decided not to let the subject drop. “You know, honestly, when the doctors told me I’d never surf again professionally, I thought my world had ended. It took a long time for me to get over that and see a way forward without surf competitions being my whole life anymore.”
He put down his fork and then leaned closer to her across the table. “I always thought I was okay with dying. Obviously, space missions are as safe as they can be, but I do a dangerous job. But when I got sucked down into the ocean, it was like the sea was deliberately trying to kill me, and I was helpless.” He swallowed. “Maybe that was the worst—being so helpless. Even after I was rescued, that’s what the nightmares were about—the ocean sucking me under.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. They were full of emotion. “I’ve never admitted these things to anyone else.”
She said, “Only you know about that illicit surfing trip. I’ve never told a single soul.”
“I’m honored by your confidence, and I’ll keep it to myself.”
“And I’ll keep yours.” After a pause, she said, “Maybe you don’t have to go in the water quite yet. Maybe you can give yourself some more breathing room.”
He suddenly looked very firm. “If I don’t get back in the water—and soon—I’ll never trust myself to go back into space. And no one else will trust me either.”
As if exhausted by their confessions, they both began to eat heartily, enjoying the candlelight and the atmosphere of the restaurant with its tables of chattering friends and couples.
She said, “Enough sad stories. How did it feel walking into the house as the homeowner for the first time?”
His smile was huge. “It felt great. I love everything about that house. And thank you for sending over your dad’s number. We’ve already been in touch. He said he’d hook me up with some painters.”
She nodded. “I knew he would. My dad’s the best.”
“I hope I get to meet him. He sounds like a really great guy.”
It suddenly crossed her mind to invite him to her brother’s wedding. But she stopped herself. It was ten days away, and she didn’t really know Herschel well enough yet, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to bring him to such an important family event. Even the fact that she’d thought of asking him made her pause. If she brought a guest to her brother’s wedding, her family would immediately think she had a new partner. No. She wasn’t going there. Instead, she said, “I’m going to take you on my secret special tour of all the highlights of Carmel-by-the-Sea. I think you’ll love it.”
“I can’t imagine a better tour guide. Thank you.”
After they both ordered coffee and declined dessert, Hersch pulled out his wallet, and she could see he was looking for a waiter. She said, “The other thing I did in advance? Pay the check. Welcome to Carmel, from me and Ferguson Realty. It’s on the company tonight.”
He put his wallet away but raised his eyebrows. Although he thanked her, she realized that Hersch was disappointed. Had she messed up by putting the dinner on the company card? It wasn’t unusual to wine and dine an extra-special client rather than send a gift basket. But from his expression, he’d thought their meal was more special than that… and it was. She could kick herself.
She lingered at the table, waiting to see if he might lean over and kiss her, but no, all the intimacy of the evening had disappeared. She ached with disappointment.
“If you really do feel that you’d like to get back in the water soon, come to my beginners drop-in surfing class tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” he said, looking unsure, and then he stood to pull out her chair.
The more she got to know Herschel, the more she wanted him. She just hoped she hadn’t messed things up by being her usual assertive self. She couldn’t bear the thought that Hersch might walk away from this night thinking she was just his real estate professional.