As the man flushed, Helena only pressed on. She leaned against the counter and twisted a piece of her dark hair around her index finger. "You don't have to look so nervous. I'm not going to hurt you."
The man gulped. "Miss, did you...need something?" he finally stuttered around, casting a glance around to see if anyone else was bearing witness to the Italian woman draping himself over the counter.
"How about a date?" she suggested, running her tongue slowly across her bottom lip. She glanced down to the name tag on his shirt. "Just me and you and a bottle of wine. How does that sound, Brett?"
Brett glanced away. "Sorry, miss but I'm engaged," he told her. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"