AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nonplussed, Kaitlyn grinned. "Not really. Thought I'd just hang out here and see you and Max off to dinner."
Shannon rolled her eyes at her sister. They fought like this all the time. For as long as she could remember, she and Kaitlyn had tiffs. Sometimes shouting matches. Many times lots of weather was exchanged. Spring and fall storms...very volatile. Until their mother stepped in the middle and put an end to it.
But as quick as the storm rolled in, it blew itself out. She and Kaitlyn adored each other. Sparring was second nature to them. Shannon knew that Kaitlyn was just a little too in love with the idea of her brothers and sisters falling in love. She wished her sister would focus her attentions on finding a man for herself instead of playing matchmaker for everyone else.
"Oh look, here he comes," Kaitlyn announced, giggling like a schoolgirl.
Shannon rolled her eyes. As if Max were the King of England or something. He grinned as he approached. "How lucky can a guy get? Here are two of the most beautiful women in New Orleans."
Kaitlyn smiled. Shannon snorted and said, "Shall we go?"
"In a hurry?" he asked.
"Yes. My favorite television program is on tonight. Can't miss it."
"Ignore her, Max," Kaitlyn chimed in. "You two have a great time. Shannon knows all the best places to eat."
"Kaitlyn, would you like to come with us?" he asked.
Shannon glanced at her sister, sending her mental signals to say yes. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Max tonight. She was already kicking herself for agreeing to have dinner with him without inviting one of the other family members along. Where was her brain?
"No, thank you. I already have plans. In fact, I'm late. Gotta run!" She waved and scurried to the elevators.
Traitor. Shannon knew Kaitlyn had no plans tonight. Matchmaking little sneak.
Resigned, she turned to Max. "What would you like to have tonight?"
He arched a brow and didn't say a word, but his lips curled in a smile that could only be described as sexually lethal.
"How about I just let you be in charge of...what I'm having tonight?" he suggested, the grin never leaving his face.
Ignoring the way he looked at her, she asked, "You're letting me decide? Wow, that's a first already. Sure you trust my judgment?"
"As it relates to food, yes."
"Fine. Let's go." She turned, wanting to hurry them along and hopefully keep her distance from Max, but he stayed in step beside her, resting his hand on her lower back as they moved to the doors. She nearly tripped over her shoes at the possessive feel of his hand on her, her skin on fire from his touch even though several layers of clothing separated his hand from her body.
Mentally cursing her traitorous body, she suffered him touching her as they headed outside and down the street. Solicitous to the point of great annoyance, he continued to touch her, directing her one way or the other with the slightest pressure of his hand against her back.
Really, it wasn't as if he knew where he was going. And she couldn't even move ahead of him because he kept pace with her no matter if she walked quickly or slowly. Damn, was this guy possessive or what?
Fortunately, the restaurant was only a couple blocks from the hotel. The day's heat still lingered and perspiration settled between her breasts, making her wish she'd changed into something cooler than her suit and blouse. As it was, the silk clung to her and she prayed desperately for the cool air conditioning of the restaurant. Otherwise, she might just have to strip.
And she'd just bet that Max would like that, too. Well, not a chance. She'd just perspire to death instead.
They walked inside the dimly lit restaurant. Why she chose Arnaud's was unfathomable. Most likely because it was close and she was hot. It had nothing to do with the ambience of romance that permeated every corner of the room. No, she sure as hell wouldn't have brought Max in here if she'd thought about it twice. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the wrong impression. Bad enough he had latched onto her hand earlier today and forced her rather windy reaction.
"Nice place," he said. And there went that hand again, gravitating to the small of her back as the maitre d' approached.
"Bon soir, Francois," she said as the gray-mustached waiter hurried over.
"Mademoiselle Storm!" She'd known Francois her entire life. He had to be in his late sixties by now, and yet still filled with as much abundant energy as he'd been when she was a child. He was merely a little rounder and a lot grayer now than he was back then.
"We are so happy to see you here tonight!" He nodded and smiled at Max. "Bon soir, Monsieur. Would you care to be seated in the main restaurant, or a more private dining area?"
"Out here is fine, Francois." The last thing she wanted was to eat in a private dining room with Max. Definitely keep things public with him. Public, business-like and totally hands off.
They were seated at a corner table overlooking the street. She'd always loved sitting by the windows. The leaded glass caught and held the sun during the daylight hours, filtering the rays until a kaleidoscope of color cascaded through the windows and onto the floors. The atmosphere made her feel transported backward in time, when opulence and beauty was the norm of the day. She studied the mosaic floors, remembering coming here with her parents, counting each colorful tile while her parents had their own conversations.
When she looked up, Max was watching her. Neither smiling nor frowning, he looked as if he were studying her, measuring her, making some kind of decision about her.
Suddenly uncomfortable, she cleared her throat and signaled for their waiter. "Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked.
"How about a bottle?"
Shannon had been drinking wine since she was old enough to hold a glass. It was a matter of culture here. And she was damn near expert in the different types of wine, including what had a fancy label and expensive price tag, but no flavor, and how to spot a wine amateur in a matter of seconds. She sat back and offered a smug smile. "Sure. You go ahead and order."
He arched a brow and took the wine list from the waiter, scanned it quickly, and ordered a bottle of her favorite Chardonnay.
Well, hell. No amateur there. Or maybe it was just a lucky guess.
"I take it you don't object to my choice?" he asked, smirking.
Why did she have this sudden urge to slap that smile off his face? "No. It's fine."
They sipped their drinks and ordered dinner. Shannon stared out the window, but Max looked only at her. Damned disconcerting, too. Did she have a zit on her nose or something? She'd never met someone so incredibly intense, or so blatantly interested in just looking at her.
Despite the air conditioning in the restaurant, her body heated, all too aware of his wandering looks
"So, what kind of PR campaign ideas do you have?" she asked, hoping if she could get him talking about business, he'd quit looking at her as if she was his intended meal.
"I don't want to talk business tonight. We can do that tomorrow."
"What do you want to talk about, then?" And if he hadn't wanted to discuss public relations for the hotel, why the hell had he invited her to dinner? Maybe she didn't really want to know the answer to that question, after all.
"I want to talk about you."
"I don't."
His green eyes turned more golden. "You don't strike me as the shy type."
"I'm not. But my personal life isn't any of your business."
"Oh, but you're wrong. It's every bit my business," he answered, then took a long swallow of the wine. She watched, his Adam's apple undulating with the movement of his throat. When he finished, he licked his lips. She tried not to be enticed by the flicking tip of his tongue around that sensual mouth of his. "I have to know about you, about your family, their history and how it all relates to The Rising Storm."
"My family's personal life has nothing to do with The Rising Storm."
"A good public relations campaign," he started, accentuating the good part as if what
she'd done so far had been crap, "starts from the ground and moves up. That means your family's background and how they became hoteliers is the basis with which we start our plan."
Did she look like an idiot? "No, the PR is strictly for the hotel/casino venture. The people of Louisiana have heard about the Storm family before. We've run that public relations gamut many times."
He poured more wine for them. "That's fine for Louisiana. Do you only want the people of Louisiana visiting your hotel, or do you want this campaign to reach out nationally, even internationally?"
