Bruce's gaze followed Sara and her saunter, which swayed with a sexual swagger, away from the table and toward the bathroom. His eyes betrayed a deep hunger: hunger for Sara, her love, her happiness, her body and soul. The prospect of having Sara for himself gave Bruce a deep satisfaction -- not only was she utterly scrumptious, but she had no idea just how phenomenal a woman she was. What was more, Bruce had plans for showing Sara a higher ground from the maladies that afflicted her inner emotions. Relief from turmoil was a common lure of suave men; the difference was that Bruce held the trust Sara offered him with sacred reverence -- he wanted to wipe away the blemishes that marred her inner spirit and let it roam happy and free.<br/><br/>A blithe look defined Bruce's features at the thought, which brought the lonely man into a living dream. Few would have considered Bruce a man of imagination, but too many opportunities flooded this mind and excited his senses. There was that night: be it sitting on a couch drinking wine or testing the strength of his bed. There was the next day: when the euphoria of their honeymoon period hit full swing, and both would revel in the intoxication of the other's company. There was the next week: when Bruce would affirm -- daily -- that he was in her life for good, and that he accepted her totally. The cogs of Bruce's mind kept turning further afield, taking them into the distant future and involving them in designs Bruce had never considered with another person. Not even Lucy, Bruce thought in mild relief.<br/><br/>The light cough of the maitre d' took Bruce by surprise, being caught with an impish grin. "Bonjour, Monsieur ... was everything to your liking?"<br/><br/>Bruce nodded and took the black, leather check presenter from the waiter. "Indeed, it was." Those cool grey eyes swept out over the heads of the patrons still enjoying their meal; they searched for the woman who ruled his heart. It dawned upon Bruce that he barely remembered the meal he had just consumed, his thoughts centered on the lovely blonde who would be his that evening. Bruce woke himself from revere, addressing the maitre d' directly. "Everything was extraordinary ... thank you."<br/><br/>"Of course," the man intoned. "What shall we do with the bottles of wine you ordered?"<br/><br/>The pen in Bruce's hand scribbled a generous amount on the payment line and tip -- far more than necessary or expected. "Have them delivered to my home. I've written the address on the check here."<br/><br/>The maitre d' nodded, taking the payment. "They will arrive tomorrow, Monsieur."<br/><br/>It was Friday night, and having a batch of wine that Sara adored would be the perfect surprise after the night he had planned for them. Bruce donned his wool longcoat, rolling his broad shoulders into the full depth of the garment. He grinned when he spotted Sara, who looked to beam at him with a ravishing twinkle in her eye. They moved to the exit, but Sara wasn't wearing a coat. Bruce slowed and turned around, thinking that perhaps Sara had forgotten it at the table. But, alas, the table had already been cleared and no coat was seen. The restaurant did not have a coat room, and so when they exited Bacaro into the cold bustle of Division Street Bruce took notice. Sara pressed against him, her frail frame shivering and her teeth chattering.<br/><br/>"No, no, no ... " Bruce muttered. He halted their momentum, a stern expression etched into his face, a severe and intense expression. "I don't know where your coat went off to, but you're with me now." The dark gray coat slipped off quickly, Bruce moved his body as a protective plane, angling the freezing woman back near the granite of the adjacent building. The coat still retained Bruce's ample warmth, which engulfed the blonde -- Bruce's scent infused into every fiber of the long garment. Bruce did not tolerate a word of dissent, had Sara uttered one. His deft fingers buttoned the front fasteners before uplifting the coat's collar to protect Sara's neck from the winter chill. "There," he said, finally satisfied. His hands smoothed over the baggy portions, for the coat was obviously over-sized for Sara, the hem reaching down near her ankles. Bruce stood before Sara, a chivalrous smile inching up the ends of his lips. "Thankfully, I'm used to the cold. Pittsburgh is far worse than New York City, believe it or not." He bent his face down, closing his eye to mold his lips onto Sara's with a kiss of exquisite tenderness. Bruce loved her, and he intended on caring for her when she least expected it. The gaze from her blue eyes was indecipherable, but Bruce simply took her hand.<br/><br/>"Shall we continue walking toward my mysterious destination?" Bruce quipped, playfully.