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"To lunch, ma'am," Zachary said.
My mouth twisted. "Did Mr. Waters give you instructions not to tell me where exactly we'll be going for lunch?"
"Oh, no, ma'am," he said. "I've never spoken with Mr. Waters directly. But..." In the rear view mirror he looked faintly embarrassed. "I am supposed to, er, drive around a bit before dropping you off.”
He looked worried.
“Don't fret,” I told him. “I won't tattle.”
I settled back and watched the city glide by me, hoping to calm my jangling nerves, but I must have been more tired than I'd realized. The cumulative effect of the car's momentum and last night's ill-considered bender combined to send me into a doze. I was startled awake by the door opening.
“Hrble?” I said intelligently. I glanced around, disoriented.
“Here we are, ma'am,” the driver said, and when I looked up at him, I saw the slightest bit of sympathy in his eyes. I felt pathetically grateful for it.
“Thank you,” I said. He helped me out of the car, and I pretended to fix my clothes—an impossible task as they were designed to be unfixable—and tried to figure out where I had ended up. Story of my life.
To my surprise, I discovered that I had been delivered to a small Mom and Pop place called The Villa. This didn't really tell me anything, because there are a thousand Mom and Pop Italian places called The Villa, but at least most of them were good. That I had not been deposited in front of a high-end sushi bar or a sexy French bistro surprised me, but only for a moment. I gathered my courage and went in.
Anton Waters was waiting for me just inside the door. Even though I was semi-prepared to see him, he still stopped me in my tracks.
Dammit. I'd forgotten just how arresting he was. He sported a light dusting of dark stubble today, accenting the squareness of his jaw. His stupid full lips quirked in that faint smile of his when he saw me, and I felt like those vivid green eyes, muted in the gloom of the intimate little restaurant, were staring right through me.
“Miss Dare,” he said.
I tried to toss my hair back arrogantly, but I wasn't used to wearing such high heels and the gesture made me stagger.
One large, warm hand caught me before I fell on my ass, and then Waters was pulling me close to him. His lean, hard body fairly hummed with energy, and he stared down at me.
“Watch your step,” he said. Then, gently, he let me go.
I swallowed hard. “Mr. Waters,” I said.
He held out a hand. “Please. Let's be seated.”
I gripped my purse, holding the strap in front of me like a talisman that could ward him off, and glared at him. He dropped his hand, somehow making the gesture elegant rather than awkward, and turned into the dining room. I followed him.
We wove through the other diners. A few stopped chewing and stared at him as he passed them by, but most of them ignored him. I, in my hooker-on-a-holiday getup, attracted far more attention. I didn't like that one bit. Mercifully, we were seated at the back of the dining room in an intimate little booth. I took one side and put my purse next to me to deter him from sharing my bench, but he didn't even try. Instead he slid in across from me, poured two generous glasses of red wine, and ordered the asparagus salad for both of us from the waitress who stood next to our table, practically vibrating at attention.
“Of course, Mr. Waters,” she gushed. She didn't even look at me. I wondered if I would have to get used to that sort of thing as well when we got married.
No. If. If!
Dammit.
I smoothed the white table cloth under my hands as she ran off to the kitchen. “I'm not fond of asparagus,” I said.
“You will be with this asparagus,” he said. “It is delicious.” I watched as he shook out his napkin and laid it in his lap. I envied that napkin. I followed suit, though the table cloth was so long it seemed like it could do double duty as a napkin just fine. I shoved it out of my way and laid the cloth across my gaudy red skirt.
“Care to explain what you are wearing?”
I looked up.
Waters sat across from me, one arm propped on the back of the booth, his head tilted at an arrogant angle. He wore another linen shirt today, this one just as impeccably tailored as the one yesterday, and a tie was conspicuously absent. Every day was casual Friday in the Empire empire, apparently.
“Just something I had left over from college,” I said. Which was mostly true.
He arched one perfect brow. His green eyes glinted. “I see,” he said, his tone of voice conveying that he didn't see at all. I felt like a contrite schoolgirl dragged in front of the principal.
