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His gaze zipped to my lips as he stared at me. "Yeah, um, grab your stuff and something to eat, and come over to my side so I can brief you."
When he backed away, every nerve and cell in my body wanted to reach for him, bring him closer, beg him to touch the places he hadn't touched. I wanted to cry. I wanted to moan. I wanted to throw myself in his arms, but I didn't.
Instead, I muttered, "Yeah, I'll be right there."
Gabe Webb was the real danger in this scenario. And I didn't know how I was going to survive the day knowing that he was watching me. Knowing where his hands had been. Knowing where I'd wanted them to be.
24
Tabatha
My hands still stung, and I deliberately kept on my gloves. They went with the outfit, so that was helpful.
"Thank you for bringing me to see the private collection. That was stunning. I've never seen anything like it in my life."
He laughed. "Well, Justin Wells is a friend. My family has known his since long before we were at Eton."
I didn't miss the old money references and the subtle way of telling me that his family was one of those kinds of families. Like he had the kind of connections that someone like me didn't have but would truly benefit from.
"No, I mean, some of those pieces were gorgeous. I really appreciate it." I did my best to bat my lashes, but I wasn't really that lashes kind of girl.
The drizzle began, and I could almost feel my hair puffing up. He frowned and opened his umbrella so we could stand beneath it. "I suspect you're getting wet now?"
"I don't think it's real rain. I think it's that nonsense pseudo-drizzle which is only meant to annoy."
"Yes, but I know how women are about their hair, right?"
I bit my tongue, but Tabatha Smith couldn't say shit. Tabatha Bracknell would cock her head and also not say anything, because Tabatha Bracknell was trying to get this dufus of a man to expose himself. I asked, "Would you like to get something to eat?"
"Yeah, let's do that. I know a delightful restaurant not a far walk from here if you don't mind. Or we can call the driver,” he added.
"No, the open air would be nice. We can walk."
"The chef and I are old friends. He'll even sit us in the kitchen and everything. You'll get a cooking lesson."
I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. But this was the gig. I was supposed to feel besotted, like I was falling in love with him.
As we walked, he talked more about art and name-dropped famous British celebrities. And it wasn't that I didn't care that he knew Freddie Highmore. Freddie Highmore was a very talented actor. It was more that this was really what he was attempting as a form of dating.
What do you know about dating? It's been ages since you've been on one.
He continued, "Oh, I meant to ask. I know you're still hesitant to date me, but I feel like we're out of that client sphere now, especially since I've taken you to a private art collection."
"You’re still my client until the results come back."
He frowned. "Well then, how about this? In the interest of our partnership, and you, uh, working for me, I would like to have a business discussion over music."
I frowned. "A business discussion over music?"
"Yes, we will have a meeting."
"Okay," I said with a startled laugh. "Where are we having this meeting?"
"At the opera."
My brows lifted. "Oh, yeah?"
"It's one of my favorite operas. Carmen at the English National Opera. I'd like you to accompany me."
