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“You act like you grew up with money.”
“I had to perfect the attitude as a kid, and it’s worked well for me professionally,” she said, grinning. “When you never had the designer-label clothes, you had to have something to make up for it. It spared me some of the mockery. We all had ways to cope.” She thought of Ryan and his drive to get top marks in school, and of Ethan and Sadie being class clowns. “Our parents always used to say ‘it’s better to have people than things.’ We didn’t see the advantage when we were small and had to share everything, but coming from a big family means that you’ll never be alone unless you want to be. Sometimes not even then.”
He gave her a long look, as though she’d given him information he’d needed to make sense of her. His nod seemed satisfied somehow. “True enough.”
They made it to the restaurant about five minutes later—a glittering line of windows with mellow lighting that spun white gold out onto the sidewalk.
He was taking her to Frost Flower? How on earth had he gotten a reservation?
He helped her out of the Ferrari and gave the keys to a dour-faced valet before leading her inside. The restaurant had opened a year before, but reservations usually took four to six months, from what she’d heard.
“Do you know the owner?” she asked.
“From the club. She gets a private room at the club when she wants it, I have a table at the restaurant when I want it. No waiting. No questions.”
They walked past the maître d’, who only nodded to them, and he led her to a cozy table in a semiprivate room. It gave them more privacy than she’d expected.
He pulled out a chair for her, but put a finger under her chin before she moved to take her seat.
“Before you even think of sitting your ass in that chair, sunshine,” he murmured in her ear, “you will take your hair down.”
Juliet felt her face flush, and a man sitting at the next table glanced over at them, his expression curious. Will flashed him a dangerous look, and the man suddenly found his entree absolutely riveting.
Was Will serious? He couldn’t be serious. She studied his face, though, and his eyes held hers with a challenge and command that made her feel hot all over. Maybe trying to have dinner with this man was a bad idea. She didn’t feel like sitting down to fine dining with him looking at her that way.
Shyly, she tugged a few hairpins free, letting her hair spill around her shoulders, and watched his expression go from satisfied to hungry. For a moment, she wasn’t sure which of them was in control of the situation, and her heart fluttered wildly. She could feel her body responding as though he were running his hands over her body rather than his gaze. A man who could make her this hot without laying a hand on her was a dangerous one to have around.
He ran his hand through her hair, and the intimacy of it in such a public place made the gesture feel proprietary and almost dirty. No one in the room who’d seen him do it would guess they weren’t technically in a relationship.
When he gestured for her to sit and assisted her with her chair, Juliet was trembling and she wasn’t sure why. He cl
aimed his own seat and eyed her lazily. It felt like every synapse in her brain was wired directly to him, waiting to respond to his next move. Her mouth was dry, but, unfortunately, her underwear were not.
He started saying something, and she had to work her brain out of its fuzzy wrapping before she could understand he was recommending certain dishes. At that moment, she had absolutely no interest in food, no matter how good the restaurant supposedly was. A waiter came, and Will ordered a bottle of wine.
“Wine? I thought that was a big no-no.”
“I guess that would depend on what you had in mind for the evening,” he said archly. “Some of us are actually interested in talking, but I see the rest of us have our minds on less intellectual pursuits.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. Still, she tried to be offended or to say something catty, but the tug of humor at his lips made her want his mouth on her.
How was he making her think such inappropriate thoughts in a public venue? She wasn’t the kind of woman who fantasized about oral sex in the middle of a fancy restaurant.
The waiter returned with Will’s wine selection and took their order. Juliet felt like an idiot when Will had to help her choose something. She’d been too distracted to give the menu proper attention. As usual, Will seemed aware and amused by the chaos he was wreaking in her head.
“You seem distracted,” he observed when the waiter had gone.
She nodded. No sense in denying it.
“Anything you’d care to talk about?”
Juliet sipped at her wine, the taste of it bright on her tongue. “Nothing that would be appropriate to talk about here.”
He chuckled, and the rumble curled her toes.
“So what sorts of things are you hoping to do in life—aside from your career?”
“What do you mean?”
