Good Deed Bad Deed

*
Ben was bored with waiting and swiveled on his barstool to face the crowd. He was an inveterate people watcher, prone to zero in on a particular face and proceed to create their back-story. As he surveyed the crowd his eyes fixed on the doors. He half-wished that she would be late so he could just get out of there, grab a cab, and go home to his bed, book, and bottle of Scotch.
The rain had formed a puddle at the entrance, and as Ana pushed through the swinging door, one of her boot-clad feet slipped in the wetness. She stumbled in, barely staying upright. Several male patrons jumped up to catch her, but she managed to straighten up, pausing to adjust her raincoat before checking the crowd for the man she was supposed to meet. Instinctively Ben had jumped from his stool to assist, but was too far away to make contact. However, he was close enough to see her quite well. He focused first on her dark wavy hair, glistening from the mist and slightly askew over one of her eyes. The raincoat she wore was the color of a tropical sea and complimented her olive skin. Ben glanced at his watch and realized that the appointed time for the arranged meeting had come and passed. At first it didn’t occur to him that this damp vision of beauty and clumsiness could be the person for whom he was waiting.
Ana walked further into the crowded room and continued to scan the crowd. Her expression was serious, her brow lightly furrowed in contemplation of an aborted opportunity to carry out the assignment. She was meant to interview Benedict Alexander McKinnon, the current rave author of travel fiction. Her eyes fixed on a tall man standing very still at the bar, looking her way with a rather sly smile on his face and a pint in one hand. He was wearing jeans, a deep blue turtleneck sweater, and a well-worn leather jacket. It didn’t occur to her that this could be the man. She had expected him to be a professorial type: horn-rimmed glasses, an old tweed sport coat, and the look of being slightly underfed. This was definitely not the case. He was built for his height, with broad shoulders and what she could see of a trim waistline. His thick hair was dark auburn, slightly long and combed straight back from his handsome, angular face. She admonished herself when wishing he would turn around and lean on the bar, proving that he looked just as good from the back. She came closer, and when they made eye contact she could see that his eyes were blue, the color of his sweater making them all the more noticeable.
Ana‘s impulse was to engage him, and she went with it. She approached him slowly, and when they were face to face, she cocked her head slightly and said, “I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling you’re the man I’m supposed to meet for an interview. If not, apologies.”
Ben paused before answering, looking her up and down discreetly before their eyes met again. “I think I’m the right guy. And with the entrance you made, I sure couldn’t miss you.” Ana looked down, still feeling a little flustered by her entrance. “Glad you didn’t hurt yourself. We would have missed our appointment,” he said.
She looked up at him, trying to think of what to say next. His smile lit up his whole face, and having once again replayed her entrance in his mind, he was trying very hard not to chuckle. Ana sensed this, but still had difficulty looking away from him.
The din of the crowd enjoying their evening in the pub made conversation difficult. Ben disliked having to talk loud into a woman’s face, so he suggested they look for a relatively quiet corner to conduct their business. The dread and annoyance he had felt while in limbo at the bar, waiting for whom he expected to be a brash journalist with a masculine edge, faded quickly when he caught sight of the mass of hair, the dark searching eyes and embarrassed expression of the woman who stumbled in from the rain.
Ben placed his hand lightly on the small of Ana’s back as they jockeyed through the crowd. She became very aware of his touch, and liked it, but knew it was just what a gentleman does rather automatically when guiding a woman forward. They saw a small corner table being vacated and hurried to lay claim. Ben had noticed her walk and had always liked that certain natural sway that some women have, usually when wearing high heels. He was very partial to women in heels.
Once at the table she began to remove her raincoat. Ben assisted and slid it from her arms, quickly noticing the way her waist tapered into very feminine hips. She was dressed in a red cashmere sweater and gray wool slacks. He could see they were slightly damp at the cuff, and that her boots had suffered from the puddles on the sidewalk. She unwrapped the printed silk scarf from her neck and tied it on the handle of her bag. Long gold hoops hung from her ears, and as she turned to sit, he caught a faint whiff of her very pleasant scent.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “I can see that you’ve done battle with the weather tonight.”
“I had to wait in front of my hotel for a cab, then ended up having to walk a bit before I could catch one. My hotel doesn’t have enough stars to warrant a doorman to do that sort of thing for guests.”
“I’m sorry this ended up being scheduled on such a nasty night. I don’t want you to come down with something over this. If you feel chilled, you should get back to your hotel and change. We can reschedule. I’m anti-interview, but with what you went through to get your assignment done, I’m