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For a second Orla couldn’t compute Antonio’s words. And then she parroted back,
‘Dinner? Tonight?’
He crossed his arms across his massive chest, drawing Orla’s helpless gaze to the bunching of his biceps under the material of his shirt.
‘Yes … it’s a common concept—a social event indulged in by people who wish to spend time together over food.’
Orla’s gaze lifted and clashed with a very dark one. She could see humour dancing in the depths and her belly swooped dangerously. Reminding her of the other night. Reminding her of the stranger who had seduced her so easily.
She opened her mouth to say something acerbic but Antonio cut her off, saying silkily, ‘Don’t waste your breath, Orla. I checked your diary and you’ve nothing on. I’ve booked a table at the Kilkenny restaurant downstairs for 8:00 p.m. Don’t be late.’
And with that, he walked out, leaving his scent in the air, exotic and spicy. Male. Orla’s hands curled to fists and she wondered helplessly just what it was about him that made her feel so threatened?
Her inner conscience laughed itself silly. Where did she start? He’d threatened her equilibrium as soon as she’d laid eyes on him. But she’d ignored that to jump into bed with him within an hour of meeting him.
This man, who was her adversary, had seen her at her absolute worst. Behaving so out of character that it made her feel ill to think about it. But what was even worse—it hadn’t been just a clinical emotionless one-night stand, not that she’d even know what that felt like. Not for her anyway. She still remembered all too well those raw feelings she’d had the next mor
ning. The raw feelings she’d had when he’d joined their bodies.
She still remembered the assertion that she’d never felt so intimate with another person … when he’d been a complete stranger! And the regret she’d felt walking away. Not even knowing his real name.
Orla’s mouth thinned and she walked around her desk and sat into her chair, which felt bigger, as if he’d stretched it with his masculine bulk. Well, fate had laughed in her face at that feeling of regret. Fate had given her precisely four hours of believing she was still in control of her life after behaving like a lust-obsessed groupie.
She’d known what lay ahead of her in terms of negotiating this takeover by the Chatsfields. And that it was going to be an uphill struggle at the best of times, because it was only for the fact that it suited the Chatsfields to buy them out that this deal was even being discussed. There was every possibility they’d start to think it wasn’t worth the trouble and walk away. And Orla was doing nothing to help that from happening. The fact that Antonio Chatsfield, the architect behind the deal, was the man who’d seen her at her most wanton and uninhibited had turned this from an uphill struggle to a nearly impossible one.
That was why he made her feel so threatened. And that was just for starters. And there was no way that she had a choice about dinner. Sighing deeply, Orla relegated the image of a relaxing bath to the back of her head. For as long as Antonio Chatsfield was in her life there would be no relaxing.
‘Good evening, Miss Kennedy. Your guest is waiting for you.’
‘Thank you, Brendan.’ Orla acknowledged their maître d’ and cursed the fact that she already felt breathless as she made her way across the dining room of the Michelin-starred Kilkenny restaurant. One of the reasons why their London hotel in particular was so attractive to the Chatsfields.
The lighting was dim in the wood-panelled dining room that had a library feel. Its discreet booths and tables attracted politicians, writers, artists, A-listers escaping the paparazzi and a general moneyed exclusive clientele, and Orla couldn’t help but be proud of it now. It was a testament to her father’s hard work and dedication.
Suddenly Orla felt very emotional to think of all of this being taken out of their hands and fought it down as she came closer and closer to the booth table at the back wall where she could see a familiar broad-shouldered figure. She cursed Antonio for picking such a private spot. She’d prefer a table right in the middle of the restaurant.
Instinctively she smoothed down her midnight-blue silk dress. It was knee-length. Completely demure—long-sleeved, with buttons running from waist to neck, not a peephole in sight.
She’d teamed it with matching slingback heels and a small silver clutch bag. She’d twisted her hair up in a chignon, determined not to give Antonio the impression that this dinner was about anything but business. Even if treacherous nerves that would be more appropriate if she were going on a date were jumping around in her belly.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANTONIO SAW ORLA approach him, winding through the tables with that innate grace he’d noticed when he’d first seen her. He also saw the firm set of her jaw and the hard line of her mouth. Her dress sent out serious Sunday-school teacher vibes but was all the more sexy because of that.
And clearly Orla believed she was sending out the message she wanted to because her chin had a definite hitch to it that screamed, I’m here for business only, as she finally arrived and Antonio stood automatically to greet her.
She slid into the booth, making sure to stay firmly on the opposite side to Antonio. Eyes sliding away from his. Taking the menu being offered by the waiter who had sprung into action as soon as she’d sat down.
Orla smiled warmly at him. ‘Thank you, Thomas. How’s your mother doing?’
The young man blushed. ‘She’s grand, Miss Kennedy. She’ll be heading home from the hospital next week and please God that’ll be the last of the treatments, thanks to you and your father.’
‘I’m glad. It’s been a tough time.’
The man murmured something and ducked away to let them peruse the menus. Antonio found that he was slightly stunned after watching that little interplay. He felt something dark grip him inside to see how Orla’s warm smile had faded as soon as the man had left. As soon as she’d smiled at the man Antonio had felt like grabbing him by the scruff of the neck.
Goaded by that spiky darkness, Antonio prompted with a drawl, ‘Good evening to you too.’
He saw her hands tense on the big leather menu and something in him got hotter. Not as unaffected as she’d like to appear. She lifted those long-lashed dark blue eyes to his. ‘Good evening.’
