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I walk back behind my desk to gather some form of composure, thankful for having a barrier between us. After Becca closes the office door to give us some privacy, I remain silent, waiting for him to finally use that gorgeous mouth of his to utter words.
Careful, Lottie.
You just used gorgeous to describe a man’s mouth that isn’t your boyfriend’s.
I clear my throat and push that embarrassing realization away from the forefront of my mind.
But instead of Nathan explaining why he’s here to meet me, he seems too preoccupied with glancing around the office, taking inventory of everything around him.
As he continues to take stock of his surroundings, I begin to realize there is a pattern to him, one that probably works in his favor inside a hockey rink—taking his time to gather all the information about his opponent before striking.
This leaves me to think that, at this moment, he considers me to be his adversary.
Huh.
When his stare stops to fix on the mantle above the fireplace with my awards, his forehead wrinkles in curiosity.
“That’s the EOY award for best new and upcoming business in The State of Massachusetts,” I explain, eyeing him just as attentively as he’s eyeing my award.
“Ugh,” he grunts again, leaving me slightly exasperated with his lack of vocabulary skills.
“Tell me, Mr. Wilder. Will this meeting consist of you only grunting, or do you actually hold the capability of forming words?”
His stellar eyes flash to mine in an instant, making my palms sweat with how unnerving his penetrating gaze can become when so inclined. The tension in the room, however, dissipates when I see him trying very hard not to smile at my sass.
“Nate,” he finally utters.
“Excuse me?”
“My name. You can call me Nate,” he adds, his rich baritone voice reminiscent of a talented bass singer, one that I would be all too happy to spend large amounts of money to hear perform.
Suddenly, his grunted replies seem preferable to the alternative.
“Very well.” I clear my throat again. “What can I do for you, Nate?”
His expression morphs into one of confusion.
“I… um.”
Dear God, if this is how he reacts to an informal meeting, then I shudder to think how he acts on a real date.
Not that I’m faring any better.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that he’s not here for dating advice.
He’s here because he punched some innocent bystanders at a bar and now needs something else for the media to focus on.
That’s all this is, Lottie—a PR stunt.
Remember that.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Nate. Piper asked me to hold this meeting with you because she believes you need assistance in the love department, but we both know that isn’t why you are here. Let’s not waste our time and speak frankly, shall we? You need something to clean up your image and think that by going on a few dates, the media’s focus will shift away from your current predicament and onto whichever woman is hanging on your arm. Let me assure you that we take matchmaking very seriously here at Love Moore. Therefore, it will come as no surprise when I tell you that I do not feel comfortable working with someone with such ulterior motives.”
I shift in my seat when his hazel stare focuses on me again.
No.
Not on me.
