The room was delightful—intimate and glowing with the evening light. He seated them at a corner table, at right angles to each other. Nicole was amused to note that Sam immediately took the seat with his back to the wall, which meant he had to turn his head to look out at the beautiful view.
Bashir disappeared without taking any orders, but within a minute, a beautiful young girl who looked like him started ferrying out bowl after bowl of food. A full array ofmezzethat smelled and looked delicious.
A young man who shared the family resemblance uncorked a bottle of Syrah from Baalbek and poured a finger in Sam’s glass. He stood at attention as Sam sipped and nodded. Sam waved a long finger at Nicole’s glass.
“I won’t say anything until the lady has tasted.”
Nicole sipped and narrowed her eyes at the explosion of taste in her mouth. Sunshine, cherries, oak…“Wow.”
Sam nodded. “I think that will be fine, then, Maroun. Thank you.”
The young man disappeared. Nicole looked around, pleased with everything. The room, the view, the food, the wine.
The man.
It was already the nicest time she’d had in, oh, at least a year, and she hadn’t even eaten yet.
So far, Sam Reston hadn’t said or done anything obnoxious, which put him in the tenth percentile of dates. The food smelled glorious, the wine was magnificent.
Her father was in good hands this evening. She’d landed the contract with the Wall Street Master of the Universe, inching her way slightly closer to, if not wealth, then at least solvency. Maybe.
The evening reminded her of happier days with her family and carefree summers with friends. It reminded her of another, lost, life.
Sam dipped a crispy lettuce leaf into the hummus in an enameled bowl decorated with swirling earth colors.
“If you’re already smiling, then I want to see you after you put this in your mouth.” He held it out to her. Her fingers brushed his as she accepted it.
It was like a little electric shock. Nicole paused, the leaf trembling in her hand and looked at him, dismayed.
Oh no.
No nono.
Just when she was settling into an enjoyable evening, too.
When her fingers met his, a powerful burst of heat had coursed through her system, head to toe, as if she’d stepped in front of an open furnace. Classic hot flush, only she wasn’t menopausal.
Oh God, no. She was attracted to Sam Reston. Massively. It had been hidden by his little trip through Grungeville, but apparently underneath, humming like a powerful engine, there’d been attraction.
Sexual attraction.Wildsexual attraction, of a pitch and intensity she’d never experienced before.
She’d been pleased to think that she might be making a friend of him. It would be nice to have someone to go out with occasionally, spiced by a little tug of sexual attraction, just to keep her hormones ticking over. He spent most of his working days across the hallway from her, which meant maybe she could have company sometimes at her noonday meals, which up until now had basically been yogurt and a packed sandwich alone at her desk.
She needed friendship. She did not need this red-hot connection to every erogenous zone in her body.
Dismayed, she looked down at the uneaten hummus-laden leaf of lettuce, out the window at the neatly tended gardens below, then back at Sam Reston.
She winced at the heat in his eyes.
He saw her trembling hand and steadied it with his own. He removed the lettuce from her fingers, curled his big, rough hand around hers and brought her hand to his mouth.
His breath was a hot wash over her skin. Goose pimples broke out when he kissed her hand.
He understood exactly what was going on inside her. His dark eyes were so intelligent and so heat-filled she didn’t know where to look.
If he had had that annoyingly smug male look of someone who’d hooked a live one, this would have been easy. Put up a wall, eat the nice food, make light conversation, be distant when saying good night, avoid the kiss.
But he didn’t look smug. He looked serious, stern, as if wild sexual attraction were the most dangerous thing on earth.
