His brows lifted. “What style are you referring to, Ms. Ambrose?”
Her lips parted, and his heart rate moved up a notch because he was thinking about things he shouldn’t be.
“Oh, you know, the man who has everything,” she said, her lips curving into a smile. “Money, looks, charm—”
“Wait, what about my looks?” he asked.
Her smile widened, and her cheeks stained pink. “Your head’s big enough, sir. I wouldn’t want it to explode.” She moved a step away from him. “I’ve got a really busy night, and so I won’t be able to go to dinner. Thanks for the invitation, though.”
Nick grasped her hand before she could turn away. She stilled, then looked over her shoulder. She didn’t pull her hand from his, even though he held it loosely.
“One hour,” he said. “Everyone needs to eat, including you.”
She bit her lip, and he could see the indecision in those blue eyes of hers.
“One hour, two blocks,” he tried again. He dropped her hand and stepped back. “I’ll wait outside in case you change your mind.”
He turned then and wove his way through the crowd. He could feel her gaze on his back. Good. She was thinking about it. Meanwhile, he’d continue his streak of impulsivity and wait outside the gallery like some Romeo trying to get attention from his Juliet.
It turned out that he didn’t have to wait long. Only about fifteen minutes—well, fourteen minutes to be exact. When she stepped out of the gallery, her bag over her shoulder, the tension eased from his shoulders.
Beneath the moonlight, she looked different, more fragile, more ethereal. But he knew she was far from fragile.
“Is it really two blocks?” she asked.
Nick straightened from where he’d been leaning against the building. “I can pull it up on my phone and show you.”
The edges of her mouth lifted as she studied him.
Nick strode toward her, joining her in the light spilling out from the gallery windows. His heart might be thumping in anticipation, but he kept his voice neutral. “Do you want to walk?” He couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding to her heeled sandals.
She folded her arms, that smile still playing on her lips. “Where’s your car?”
This was more than what he’d expected. “Around the corner,” he gestured behind him, “the opposite way of the restaurant.”
She shrugged and moved past him, walking in the direction he’d pointed. “I’ve been standing in these heels for two hours, so we might as well drive.”
Nick was at her side in an instant. They didn’t talk as they walked to the corner.
A car passed, then another. The second one slowed down and angled toward the red-painted curb.
A man jumped out of the car, and Nick paused, wondering if he needed help.
Lauren came to a complete stop.
“Lauren!” the man said. “Are you leaving already?”
“Kevin?” she said in a faint voice.
Nick looked from Lauren to the man who’d illegally parked and was now approaching them. Wasn’t this the guy she said was her ex-boyfriend? Maybe they’d gotten back together?
Lauren moved closer to Nick and slipped her arm through his. Nick truly didn’t mind, but he wasn’t sure it was for the reason he was hoping.
Kevin was only a few feet away now, and the streetlamp illuminated his distressed face.
“I had to see you,” Kevin said. “You blocked my number.”
“We broke up, remember,” Lauren said in an even tone, although her grip tightened on Nick’s arm.
Kevin’s gaze slid to Nick. “You cheated on me with this guy?”
“What I do is no longer your business,” Lauren said. “You need to leave now, or I’ll call the police.”
Kevin’s eyes bugged out. “Really? You’re seriously whacked—”
Nick stepped forward, moving in front of Lauren. “She asked you to leave, Kevin.”
“This is between us,” Kevin spat out. “Move out of my way.”
The second Kevin tried to shove Nick, he was ready. Nick grabbed the guy’s shirt and hauled him close, stopping within inches of his face. Nick had him in both height and weight, and Kevin knew it.
“You can leave in peace,” Nick ground out, “or I can make you leave.”
Kevin stared at Nick, and he could see the debate in the guy’s eyes. “Don’t be stupid,” Nick said in a low voice. “Stalking a woman is a crime.”
“I’m not . . .” His voice trailed off as a police siren sounded in the distance. No one had called the police, but it was enough to alert Kevin.
“I’m going now,” Kevin said, pulling away from Nick.
Nick held on for another second, just to show that he could, then he released Kevin.
He stumbled back, then turned and hurried back to his car.
Nick stood on the sidewalk, his arms folded, as he watched Kevin do a lousy three-point turn to get his car going in the right direction. After he sped off down the road and disappeared around a corner, Nick faced Lauren.
She was standing still, one hand on her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She lowered her hand and nodded. Then she shook her head. “I can’t believe he did that. I mean, I didn’t think he was that type.”
“Well, he’s that type,” Nick said. “What else has he done?”
Lauren looked away. “Just phone calls, but I blocked his number today, and . . .” She wiped at her face.
Nick hated that she was crying over this jerk. “Hey.” He touched her arm gently. “We don’t have to go out. I was just—”
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms about his waist, stunning Nick. He pulled her close. He couldn’t tell if she was crying, but if she needed comfort, he was only too happy to give it.
A couple of cars passed by them on the street, and each time Lauren tensed.
“Does he know where you live?”
She nodded against his chest.
“Do you want to file a report at the police station?” he asked, rubbing a slow circle on her back.
“No,” she said. “I think you scared him off. And it might be good for him to think you and I are . . . together. Cut through whatever overzealous thoughts he might have about me.”
Nick frowned, not entirely convinced at her line of reasoning. He assumed she lived alone, and that would put her at risk. “Do you need a place to stay for a while?”
She looked up at him. “I’ll be fine. I was just taken off guard.” She drew away from him, and Nick caught her hand.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. At least she wasn’t crying anymore, and that was good, but still, Nick’s stomach felt like it had been hollowed out.
“I’m starving,” she said.
“Well, I think we could fix that.”
A small smile touched her lips, and he wanted to pull her close again.
“Okay, but you have to do one thing first.”
At that moment, he realized he’d pretty much do anything she asked of him. “Name it.”
This time she gave him a real smile. Then she reached up and unknotted his tie.
He found he was holding his breath for some ridiculous reason, but the brush of her fingertips against his neck sent a warm buzz through him. She slid off his tie, then rolled it up and put it into that multicolored bag of hers that seemed to hold a plethora of mysterious items.
But she wasn’t done yet apparently.
Lauren grasped the edges of his lapels and tugged his suit jacket over both shoulders. He shrugged out of it, helping her along, because he was helpful that way.
“Much better.” Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “I feel like walking after all.” She draped the jacket over her arm, then turned from him, heading down the street. “Coming?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
He’d been staring. “Yeah.” He forced himself to walk, feeling strangely exhilarated at her actions and the way he had en
joyed her taking the initiative in their relationship. That thought gave him pause. Relationship?
He was really glad that Lauren Ambrose couldn’t read minds.
The restaurant was cozy, beautiful, and smelled totally authentic. Or at least how Lauren imagined a restaurant would smell in Italy. When the waitress set down a basket of fresh, hot bread, Lauren felt the knots in her stomach begin to loosen. Nick had led her into the restaurant, his hand at the small of her back, as more than one person greeted him.
He hadn’t been kidding; he was a regular here.
Their booth was tucked away in the far corner of the restaurant, and the velvet seat coverings and the three candles on the table made Lauren feel like she was in a 1930s movie. Lauren decided right then and there that she wouldn’t tell Sofia about this little outing. Lauren could just imagine Sofia’s I-told-you-so attitude, which would not be helpful at all. No, this would stay Lauren’s own business.
“May I take your drink orders?” The waitress appeared, her jet-black hair smoothed into a twist and her dark-red lipstick setting off her olive skin. “The usual for you, Nick?”
Nick smiled at the woman. “Yes, thanks.”
Her name badge read Francesca.
Lauren tried not to feel the envy that was warming up her chest. Francesca was beautiful, and she obviously knew Nick—beyond the restaurant? Lauren had no idea, and it wasn’t any of her concern, but she was definitely curious.
Francesca turned her sultry gaze upon Lauren. “What will you have, ma’am?”
Lauren ordered hot tea. Ever since Kevin’s unexpected visit, her goose bumps wouldn’t go away.
When Francesca left, Lauren watched her walk away, marveling at how effortlessly the waitress moved about the restaurant in stilettos.
Lauren felt Nick’s studied gaze on her, and she looked over at him.
“Are you dating her?” Might as well get it all out in the open.
Nick blinked. “Francesca? Uh, no.”
“She was giving you that look.”
“What look?” Nick rested his forearms on the table.
Lauren waved her hand. “You know, that look women give men when they want something.”
His mouth quirked, and his hazel eyes scanned her face. “Care to demonstrate?”
“No,” she said. “I could never compare to an Italian woman.”
Nick didn’t say anything for a moment, and just as Lauren was thinking about picking up her menu, he said, “What if it’s the other way around?”
“What?” Lauren said.
“That Francesca could never compare to you,” he said in a quiet tone.
Lauren probably didn’t need the hot tea now; she was plenty warm. “I’m not naïve,” she said, “and I’m pretty sure you’re not either.”
“You’re right, I’m not naïve,” he said, but he was gazing at her with a thoughtful expression, and Lauren didn’t know how to read it.
“Thanks for your help, uh, back there with Kevin.”
He nodded, but his gaze was sharp. “I don’t like that he found you so easily. He could come to your place too.”
Lauren had to look away. It had been her exact worry.
“Look, Lauren,” he said in a careful tone. “I have a two-level house on the beach. You could stay on one level. You know, until you think that Kevin has given up.”
Lauren met his gaze again. She could see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. But it was going too far . . . “I’ll be okay, really.”
Nick didn’t seem surprised at her answer. He picked up his phone. “Let’s swap numbers, and then if you change your mind—”
“Here’s that water, Mr. Matthews,” Francesca said, arriving at their table.
She might have called Nick by Mr. Matthews, but on Francesca’s lips, it sounded intimate.
So maybe he really did order water all of the time if it was his usual at this restaurant. “And your tea,” Francesca continued, setting down a saucer and tea cup. She added a platter of tea condiments.
“Have you decided on your meals yet?” Francesca’s dark gaze was back on Nick. “The usual?”
“That sounds good,” he said.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” Lauren said. It was the quickest way to get rid of the waitress and all of those suggestive looks she kept giving Nick. If they really hadn’t dated, Lauren was pretty sure that Francesca wished they had.
When she walked away, Nick looked at Lauren with amusement. “You don’t even know what I ordered.”
“Well, if you like it, then I should too.” Or, more accurately, she’d ordered the same thing as Nick for Francesca’s benefit.
“That sounds perfectly logical,” Nick said, his smile growing.
Lauren hid a sigh. He really had a beautiful smile.
“I like you, Lauren Ambrose.”
She laughed. He wasn’t saying he liked her but that he liked her bantering.
Then his expression sobered. “Think about my offer. I don’t want Kevin to think he can bother you again.”
“I’ll be fine, truly,” she said. “I’ve lived alone my entire adult life.”
He said nothing for a second, just studied her. “At least give me your number, and vice versa. You can call me if anything changes.”
That sounded reasonable. She picked up her bag and dug her phone out of it, then said in a low, sultry tone to match Francesca’s, “What’s your number, Mr. Matthews?”
He chuckled and slid her phone from her grasp. He added his number, then handed the phone over. “Call me so I have yours.”
Lauren looked down at the contact he’d created. It was simply Nick. No Nicholas Matthews or Nick Matthews.
“Okay.” She pressed the call button.
His phone buzzed, then he created a contact from the number on his phone.
Unexpectedly, Lauren felt comfort in knowing that she had his number, and he had hers . . . if only because of Kevin. Not that she thought he’d continue to cause problems, but it was nice to know she could call Nick.
It wasn’t like she’d call Sofia—who was a couple of states away. She couldn’t do anything.
“How long have you been painting?” Nick asked after drinking some of his water.
“Since high school, I guess,” Lauren said, then she tried her tea. “I found out that I loved it in one of those mandatory art classes.”
Nick clasped his hands together. “So, why miniatures?”
It was a good question. “I guess I thought it was interesting to see how much I could get into such a small space. It’s not the best art, I know.”
“It’s great art,” Nick countered. “And you’re very talented.”
Lauren had been complimented plenty of times on her work, so why did Nick’s compliment make her face warm? “Thanks, but you don’t need to build up my confidence. I don’t need a regular job like most people, so I’m lucky to do something I love. Believe me, I know how unique that is.”
Nick’s hazel eyes didn’t leave her face. “I’m not trying to build up your confidence. I like your art, plain and simple. In fact, I bought a couple of pieces tonight.”
She stared at him. “You . . . did?” She swallowed, suddenly feeling like she should apologize or something. Tell him that he was under no obligation. Then her gaze narrowed. “Are you brown-nosing?”
He chuckled, and Lauren hated that his laugh warmed her through. Either that, or her tea was doing its job.
“I’m not brown-nosing.”
Lauren didn’t believe him for a minute. “Then wining and dining,” she said.
“I don’t see wine, do you?” He was still smiling. “We could order some if that would make you feel better.”
She shook her head. “I think I need to keep my head on straight around you in case you try to use your powers of persuasion.”
Nick leaned forward, his gaze intently interested. “What do you think I’m trying to persuade you to do?”
“Not to do, specifical
ly, but to believe.”
His brows raised. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not really.” Lauren exhaled. “You said this wasn’t a business dinner.”
“It’s not,” he said. “But we could talk about business if you want to. Although . . .” He took another sip of his water. “I’d rather not.”
His intense gaze on her, the quiet music, the candles glowing on the table, his close proximity, which meant she could smell his cologne . . . all of that was messing with her mind. This man was incredibly good-looking, and he knew it. He probably had a dozen Francescas saved in his phone.
“Fair enough,” Lauren said. “So tell me about yourself, Nicholas Matthews.”
His expression held amusement. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, what makes you tick?”
His chuckle was low. “Numbers.”
She should have guessed it. He was a finance guy, after all. “Have you always loved numbers?”
“They’re straightforward, and numbers never lie,” he said. “I love it when they balance out.”
“So you’re an accountant at heart?”
“That’s what I went to school for, and it wasn’t until a few years ago when my dad pulled me into his company that I worked more with investments,” Nick said. “I would have been perfectly happy running my own accounting firm, but working for my dad was unexpectedly enjoyable.”
Lauren was impressed that Nick enjoyed working for his dad. Family businesses were tricky. “That sounds nice.”
Nick shrugged. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, but age matured me, and age mellowed my dad. Besides, there’s not much travel in accounting. So traveling now has been an added perk.”
She smirked. “You bought your shoes in Italy, didn’t you?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Lauren laughed. “No, we do not.”
“So . . .” he prompted.
She met his gaze. “I don’t travel much, okay? I’m perfectly happy with my San Diego condo, my work, and not having to be anyplace at a specific time.”
Nick eyed her speculatively. “What’s the farthest you’ve been?”
Lauren hesitated, not having admitted this to anyone. “Um . . . New York.”
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