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I ignored the teasing in her tone, knowing my own damn words had put me in this position. “Why is this place not Carriage House?”
“Noticed that, did you?”
“Hard not to, Sophie. What’s going on?” I had the distinct feeling I was being played, and I didn’t like that feeling one bit.
“Nothing that you need to worry about, Oliver, I swear. I may be giving you a hard time, but I am a professional and I take my job seriously.” Her tone made me feel properly chastened. “Just go inside, look for the red lace dress, and have a good time.”
The call dropped before I could ask another question, which meant I was on my own. No big deal. I’d been on dates before, hundreds, maybe even thousands of first dates, and I hadn’t been nervous since junior prom. But tugging on the brass handle that took me inside the restaurant, I could admit to a hint of nerves.
“Welcome to Plymouth Steak Bistro, do you have a reservation?” The hostess wore a tight, professional smile that was friendly but not too friendly.
“I, uh, yes. I think. Oliver March, I’m meeting someone.” My gaze slid from the redheaded hostess to sweep the bar first, but there was no red dress, just a few rumpled suits worn by both sexes.
“Mr. March, of course. Right this way.” She grabbed a heavy-looking leather-bound menu and bounced away, leaving me to follow, which I did.
As soon as I rounded the small corner deep inside the dining room, I saw the dress. Only the dress. My date had thick black hair—familiar, but that was just wishful thinking or maybe fearful. I couldn’t be sure these days. The dress, though, it was captivating. Red lace and figure-hugging with that fabric that it made it appear that she was naked underneath.
“Here you are, sir. Enjoy your meal.” She flashed another wide smile and bounced away, leaving me to an awkward introduction.
My gaze started at the shoes, four inches high and nude. Sexy as fuck. Curvy legs with a hint of olive tone in them were on display up to the knee and then a sexy split on the side. But I couldn’t look away from the red lace, the luscious tits and slender waist that were familiar, but not as familiar as the scent that invaded my nose. I knew it was her before our gazes locked. “Red lace.”
Eva’s lips twitched but, stubborn woman that she was, she tried to hold it back. “Good observation. Dark suit,” she laughed. “I like this game.”
Even though the sight of Eva in that red dress was making things highly uncomfortable, I didn’t like how it felt. “I don’t. My date is supposed to sitting at this table, sipping scotch and wearing red lace.”
I saw the moment it all registered on her beautiful face. Grey eyes darkened to a stormy color that said whatever this was, Eva wasn’t in on it. She froze with the drink in her hand, lips pinched tight, and some of the color drained from her flawless skin. “Those bitches.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t the response I was expecting, but it wasn’t exactly anger or displeasure. “Care to share with the class?”
Eva motioned for me to sit, taking a moment to appreciate my body while pretending she wasn’t. “I told my partners about the kiss.”
That was unexpected. “Why?” I braced myself, knowing that between her sharp tongue and fiery nature, anything could come out of her mouth.
A frown marred her striking features. Her gray eyes were stunning tonight, enhanced by thick eyeliner and mascara that made it impossible to look away. “Because it was a horrible breach of ethics and they needed to know so we could figure out how to move forward.” Her haughty tone caught me off guard, but her words shocked the hell out of me.
“You were prepared to quit, to give up the stake in your business because of a kiss?” That was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard, though I had enough sense not to say so aloud.
Eva let out a sigh of annoyance she seemed to always make around me and looked at me like I was an idiot. “You are a client. I can’t take you for myself when I promised my clients that I would do everything in my power to find them what they’re looking for. I can’t do that if I’m kissing every good-looking charmer who walks into my office.”
“So, you think I’m charming and good-looking? I’m moving up in the world.” It was a bad time for a joke, but I managed to tease a small smile out of Eva.
“Focus, Oliver.” She snapped, half annoyed and half amused. “I think this is their attempt at matchmaking.”
“Worried I’ll charm you thoroughly?”
She barked out an unladylike laugh and shook her head. “Oh, please. I’m just upset that I had no idea what they were up to.”
