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Jane opened her mouth and then closed it again. “You’ve paid me too much.” Her heart was breaking. It was broken beyond repair in fact, from the moment he’d heard her story and brushed it aside. What did she need from him? She didn’t know.
“No. I haven’t. I don’t make mistakes. I paid you about a hundredth of what you’re worth. But I paid you what I thought you might take.” He put his arms around her waist. “It’s not for sex. It’s not for anything. It’s a gift, from a man who loves spending time with you.”
Her throat was thick. “That’s actually really kind… Completely, over-the-top, way too generous, though.”
Carter shook his head. He had billions in the bank and she was thanking him for a paltry sum, comparatively. He was at a loss as to how to handle her.
“How do you feel about being outed, anyway?”
“Outed?” She frowned.
“I was wrong about last night.” He ran a finger down the side of her cheek, to her full, pouting lips. “I wanted to protect you, and you don’t need protecting. If you would come to dinner with me tomorrow night, I would consider myself the luckiest man in Manhattan.”
Her cheeks colored beneath her tan. “On one condition,” she said after a beat that made his heart turn over.
“Name it.”
“Let’s call it a date. Let’s call it our first date.”
“Done.”
He’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he had more money in the bank than he could ever use, and yet that night, he felt like he’d won the lottery.
CHAPTER NINE
“What is this place?” Jane asked in wonderment, as they walked into a room that was completely candlelit. From the enormous row of candelabra that hung from the ceiling, to the walls that were lit with lanterns, to the tables that were weighed down by clusters of different height candles in small arrangements, it was a place of true wonder.
But Carter only had eyes for his date. She was wearing a red silk dress that gave her a look of a sexy senorita, all tumbling black locks, tanned skin and velvet eyes. Her lips were painted the exact shade of the dress, and on her feet, she wore shoes with spikes tall enough to bring her a good few inches closer to his height.
“It’s called Chaleur. It’s French.”
She repeated the different sounding name. “What does it mean.”
His eyes held hers mockingly. “Heat.”
She smothered a laugh and looked at him archly. “Heat?”
“Appropriate, no?”
She laughed, hooking her hand through his arm. “Do you come here often?”
A flicker of a frown crossed his face. “Actually, I’ve been here a few times.”
She detected the miniscule change in his behaviour and fixed him with a mock scowl. “You bring women here often, don’t you?”
He pulled a face. “I love French food. What can I say?”
She rolled her eyes. “You do realise unoriginality is a definite mark against you?”
“Yep. I get the feeling I’m going to have to make that up to you later.”
She grinned. “I suspect you have a few ideas how you could do that.”
The waiter stopped walking at a table that was somewhat secluded from the rest of the restaurant. He went to pull out a seat for Jane but Carter waved him away.
“A bottle of the Dom Perignon, and some escargot and brioche.”
The waiter nodded his head and disappeared silently. Carter held a chair out for Jane, and as she sat down, he pressed a kiss against the top of her head.
