To say their first official date was proving to be an unmitigated disaster would be accurate.

"Stop pacing," Mary hisses, clearly exhausted by the argument Matthew has been having with the maitre d for the past ten minutes. "Just sit down and relax for a moment."

"I can't relax," he fumes, pretending not to notice the eye roll she tosses his way. "And this is ridiculous. I made these reservations days ago, and that bastard practically accused me of lying…"

"It's not that big of a deal," she cuts in, nodding politely as an older couple walks past them. "He didn't accuse you of lying, he just has no record of our reservation."

"He only asked me four times if I was certain I had the right restaurant," he huffs. "Then the right date, the right time, as if I were a moron who can't tell the difference between the time and my ass."

She shushes him pointedly as a woman passes by them, her hostility so acute at this point he can practically smell it from where he stands.

"There are other restaurants in the city," she continues, working to keep her voice steady, but still slicing him right where it hurts. "And most of them don't require reservations. Let's just go."

"That's not the point, Mary," he shoots back, doing everything he can to keep his blood pressure from boiling over. "I made these reservations because you mentioned how badly you've been wanting to try this place. I did this for you."

He face softens somewhat, even as her spine remains ramrod straight.

"And that's very sweet of you," she acknowledges. "But there's nothing written in stone that says if we don't eat here tonight, we'll never be allowed to return."

"That's not the point," he reiterates, making her sigh as she throws up her arms.

"Then what is the point?" she asks, clearly at a loss. "Because I'm starving, and if we need to find another place to eat, I'd rather do so sooner rather than later."

"The point is that we may have been having amazing sex, but this is our first real date."

The words come out far louder than he'd intended, and she whips her head around nervously, trying to make certain none of the patrons or servers had overheard his outburst. No trays collapse, no dishes break, and she begins to rub her temples, probably wishing she was anywhere in London right now besides sitting here with him. His shoulders collapse, and he moves beside her, exhaling loudly as he sits down, hoping she won't push him away or smack him across the face.

She does neither.

"I'm sorry."

He sighs as she shrugs, and he rubs his face as she folds her arms tightly across her lap, continuing to stare daggers at him. God, she's gorgeous, and refined, intelligent, witty-everything a man could ever want in a woman, and she smells sensational to boot. The fact that her kisses are a narcotic and that she's actually out on a date with him is enough to make his head spin, not to mention the fact that he's been enjoying the best sex of his life in her arms and in her bed.

"I just wanted to make it special for you," he breathes, his own hands falling into his lap. "Meeting you was the last thing on my mind, but now that it's happened, I…" He pauses, feeling his ears start to burn under her scrutiny as his insides continue to churn. "I just don't want you to wake up one morning and realize that you can do a lot better than me."

He feels her hand touch down on top of his, and he dares a look in her direction, amazed at the vulnerability he sees there.

"You don't have to wine and dine me at Gordon Ramsay's for me to stay with you," she whispers. "I'm just as happy grabbing some Indian food and taking a walk through Hyde Park." He squeezes her hand, feeling a welcome warmth spread through his body like quicksilver. "Richard took me to more than my fair share of fancy restaurants, and I was absolutely miserable with him."

"But you deserve this," he says, his gaze dropping to where their fingers intertwine. "You deserve the best, Mary, and Richard was an idiot and an ass for not seeing that." He knows her ex-husband treated her like shit, and that knowledge makes him want to right everything for her, to help her remember just what an exquisite creature she is, to give her the world and everything in it he can possibly afford.

"This," she states, waving her hand to indicate the restaurant, "doesn't make me happy. But this…" She leans in then and claims his mouth gently, teasing him, opening her mouth to him, melting into him with a soft moan that goes straight to his crotch. "This does."

Then he's kissing her, the thought of not kissing her impossible to entertain, and his arms wrap around her instinctively, pulling her closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss even further as one of her feet begin to rub up and down the side of his leg. He's going to be sporting quite a stiffie if they keep this up, but he can't bring himself to care as her fingers work their way into his scalp and her tongue does that thing that drives him absolutely insane.

"Excuse me, sir."

He hears someone clear his throat and breaks away from Mary long enough to spy the maitre d standing over them, staring down at them as if they were two teenagers he'd caught snogging.

"Yes?" Matthew returns, feeling Mary's thumb wipe away what must be lipstick from his chin.

"I have managed to straighten out the problem of your reservation," the maitre d continues, clearing his throat yet again. "Or lack of one, as it were, and I'm delighted to inform you that we shall be able to seat you in just a few minutes."

He turns towards Mary, grinning as her brows knit together into something that resembles a refined pout.

"Thank you," Matthew says, moving away from Mary long enough to sand and offer her his hand. "But we've decided to go elsewhere for dinner."

The look of shock on the poor man's face is worth the past fifteen minutes of strife, and Matthew is suddenly giddly, feeling as if he's walking on air as Mary tosses him a wink and they turn towards the door. They just make it outside before they bursting into laughter, and he tugs her back for a quick kiss, growing harder as she throws her arms about her him and kisses him back with gusto.

"So where are we going now?" she asks, pulling back far enough to take stock of their current location, her stomach growling as if on cue.

"I don't care," he grins, pulling her close and nipping at her ear. "As long as they have room service."