‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to suggest that snob stuff by you bringing me here,’ she rushed on. ‘Just that your tastes befit a Marketing Executive, that’s all.’ Even if he didn’t know the job and would take far too much time to learn the ropes to help the company now, when it needed help most.
‘Oh. Yes. The wage does offer its advantages,’ he said casually, catching her hand and drawing her to the entrance.
‘I see.’ She tried to stir up her resentment again, but failed. She couldn’t feel straight with her hand in his— her body was all sensations, all reactions, all tingling for more of Case’s attention.
He pushed open the door, letting her hand slip from his other hand as he held it open for her to pass, his gaze going to the slit in her dress. The light in his eyes and the flicker of a muscle in his jaw sent pulses of excitement racing through her.
Tahlia rubbed her palm against her thigh to expel the charge still tingling there. What she could do about the tingling in the rest of her body, she had no idea.
Case weaved through the line of people in the foyer, beckoning her to follow. ‘Reservation for Darrington,’ Case said smoothly to the maître d’.
The balding man in a tux smoothed his thin moustache and nodded. ‘Your usual table, Mr Darrington?’ he asked, sweeping up two menus and swinging around.
‘Yes.’ Case glanced at her sheepishly. ‘That’ll be fine. Thank you, Louis.’ Case placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her after Louis.
‘So you bring all your women here, do you?’ she asked, biting her cheek, fighting an unusual ache around her ribs. ‘Not that I mind,’ she blurted. ‘Or care. I’m sure a man like you must get around and wouldn’t be short of offers and it’s not like this isn’t a nice place to bring dates to show them not only how much you’re making but your taste in wine and food, and your style—’
‘That’s not my intention,’ Case offered.
Louis stopped at a small round table which was nestled in the corner of the room. A deep red leather bench-seat curled around the table, against the coffee-coloured wall and a print of a modern artwork with bold strokes and even bolder colours.
A candle flickered under a textured glass shade, the crystal wineglasses gleaming in the light, the wine bottle all too obviously chilling in the ice bucket beside the table, at the ready.
It was one thing to suppose the man was a career Romeo, another thing entirely to see it, feel it, know it. Tahlia glanced back across the busy room towards the door.
Was she just another distraction from doing his job properly?
‘You don’t like?’ he asked, moving closer to her. ‘We can go somewhere else if you’re not comfortable, if you don’t want to stay…’
She lifted her chin, stifling her concerns. This was business, nothing personal. ‘Why mess with something that obviously works for you?’
She slipped on to the bench, sliding a little on to the seat in front of the setting on the table, twining her hands together on her lap. ‘Nothing wrong with being organised, regulated, into an efficient routine and all that.’ Sounded a lot like what she’d do if she was a guy and was dating regularly.
Tahlia glanced up at Case, who was settling himself at the other side of the small table, his knees brushing against hers. ‘Doesn’t mean this is contrived,’ she blurted, blood rushing to her face and southward.
She stared at her place setting and straightened the cutlery. ‘That I’m just another woman to pass a meal with and try on for—’
‘Hey.’ Case reached across the table and held her hand. ‘I’m here with you because I want to find out more about you, because I’m interested in who you are, why you’re who you are,’ he said slowly, his voice deep and his sapphire-blue gaze on hers. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort with the dinner arrangements but it was short notice and I have a rapport here.’
‘That’s okay—’ she waved her other hand ‘—you don’t have to explain.’
‘I want to.’ He gave the hand captured in his a gentle squeeze. ‘I don’t want you to think for a moment that this isn’t special.’
Tahlia frowned. He couldn’t mean that. It was just a spiel. He was an expert, after all. A tall, handsome, amazing Casanova. ‘Really?’ she asked as innocently as she could.
‘Yes. I’ve brought dates here, but no one as inquisitive, observant and amazingly frank as you.’
She couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sorry. I’m not usually like this.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Case said, leaning closer to her. ‘I like you just the way you are.’
Tahlia’s chest warmed, filling her with a soft heat that radiated outward, making her whole body light and tingly.
She glanced at where his hand covered hers in his warmth, his strength, and she couldn’t help but like the feeling, like him.
No, not a good idea. She knew where liking a man got you—into loving a man, trusting a man and depending on him and she wasn’t going to experience that sort of vulnerability and loss, ever.
Sure, she respected the way he dealt with the staff but she’d confirmed his total lack of application to the Marketing job and all it entailed.
He had secured her promotion through dubious connections.
‘Case…that’s an odd name,’ she blurted, extracting her hand as slowly and as casually as she could before she did something she’d regret.
‘My father’s a lawyer,’ Case said, drawing his hand back and straightening his setting. ‘I think it was my mother’s way of tackling his workaholic nature. She’s a psychologist. Decided all she had to do to get him to switch on to giving me attention was to say my name. Case wants you. Spend some time on Case.’
‘Did it work?’
‘Yeah, pretty much.’ He shrugged, picking up the bottle of wine from the ice bucket. ‘Unless there was a case more important.’
‘Case priorities?’ she said softly, fighting a smile. She was glad her mother wasn’t the only strange one in the world. ‘I’m sorry… I do know the feeling.’
‘Your dad’s into work in a big way?’ Case asked, filling her glass.
‘Yes. He was.’
‘Was? He’s retired?’
She glanced around the busy restaurant—the tables all full, the soft murmur of couples doing little to ease the tension that pounded in her chest. ‘Deceased.’
‘I’m sorry. How did—’
‘So am I.’ Tahlia gripped her glass. ‘Is your dad retired?’
‘No. Still working, much to my mother’s dismay. She’s got a list a mile long of all the places she wants to go to, all the things she wants to see, and still he keeps on working.’
‘That’s sad. Does she have hobbies?’ she rushed on, eager to get as far from the issue of her father as quickly as possible.
‘Yes. Me.’
Tahlia couldn’t help but smile, relief washing through her at his dropping the subject of her father. ‘Let me guess… You’re her only child and she’s trying to get you married off so you can give her grandchildren, probably contacts you…almost daily…to ensure her plight is foremost in your mind at all times.’
Case laughed. ‘Spot on. How did you know?’
‘I’m an only child too.’ And she’d been hoping for years that her mother would start behaving like everyone else’s and care about that stuff. Now she was… Tahlia wasn’t so sure she liked it.
‘And your mother is after grandkids?’
Tahlia took a sip of the deep bold claret. ‘Always on my back.’ He didn’t have to know it was all about work, at least until tonight.
‘I guess it’s part of the job description. You’ll be just the same when you have kids.’
‘No way. I’m going to be nothing like my mother,’ Tahlia bit out. Visions leapt to her of her mother curled into a shattered ball on the bed she’d shared with her father, the days of tears, the weeks of silence, the haunted look in her eyes, still.
‘That’s what they all say,’ Case said lightly, but he cou
ldn’t help but notice the stricken look on her face. ‘What? Have I said something…anything to—?’
‘Nothing,’ she said lightly, picking up the menu. ‘Let’s order. I’m starving. Chefs in places like these take for ever in getting food to the table.’
Case nodded, picking up his menu, casting his eyes over the list of cuisine his restaurant offered. She may have guessed he brought all his women here, but not why. And she wouldn’t be able to fault the service. Everyone knew who he was…and no one disappointed the boss.
He gripped the menu, the words blurring. He was bursting to tell her.
Case took a gulp of the red wine. For the first time since Celia he wanted to tell a woman all about himself, all his assets, all his achievements, including making this struggling enterprise one of the top five restaurants in Melbourne.
He wanted to impress Tahlia, see her awe, hear her praise, see a warmth in those sea-green eyes that was just for him. ‘You do want kids, though?’
Tahlia glanced up, her eyes wide. ‘Ye-es, at a later stage I would like to have a couple of children,’ she said carefully. ‘But I wouldn’t bring them into a relationship that wasn’t absolutely totally stable and loving.’
‘Me neither.’ He lifted his arm and a waiter arrived at the table at the ready. ‘I’d like the quail entrée, Piper’s Peppered Steak with the Chef’s Best Salad and the Raspberry and Apple Pie with cream.’
The waiter turned to her.
‘Quail,’ she said, nodding to Case, her eyes bright. ‘The chicken breast with garden salad and a chocolate cheesecake.’
‘Is your mother local?’ he asked, watching her take a sip of the red wine, her lips almost as dark, looking as rich and sweet as cherries, just begging to be tasted.
‘Ye-es,’ she said slowly, her gaze on him. ‘My mother took a job here just after I first moved to Melbourne to work with WWW Designs. I don’t blame her for coming too. I wouldn’t want to be all alone and she is all alone and I understand that I’m all she has and all—’
Case heard the flood of sweet words from her mouth, saw the shine in her eyes as she dropped her gaze to the setting in front of her, and wanted her. Desperately, totally wanted her…never to be alone.
He swallowed hard. ‘God, you’re beautiful.’
Tahlia glanced up at him, a soft flush on her cheeks. ‘You don’t have to resort to flattery to get me to talk,’ she said casually. ‘Shoe size? Seven and a half. How I take my coffee? Black with no sugar. Where I go on holiday? Anywhere that has a seminar that can help my career. So what do you want to know?’
Case shook his head. ‘Can’t a guy make an honest comment about his date’s extraordinary beauty without it being taken as a means to an end?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
A waiter moved between them brandishing their entrées, the sweet scent of the freshly roasted delicacy wafting around them.
‘You seem dedicated to work.’ Case stripped the small quail of its meat, the prized morsels melt-in-the-mouth soft. ‘Your file is impressive. You’ve done a lot in a few short years.’ He glanced at her, trying to make her out.
She placed her hands in front of her. ‘So you finally read my file.’
Finally, for the twentieth time. She was twenty-six years old and had worked diligently, pursuing her career, yet still seemed so young and innocent in so many ways. ‘You mustn’t have had time for much of a personal life.’
Tahlia put down her fork, staring at him. ‘No, not much of one, but I’ve had my fair share of boyfriends.…if that’s what you’re asking.’
Case shook his head. ‘You are amazingly frank, Miss Moran.’
‘You are incredibly nosey, Mr Darrington. Anyone would think you have an ulterior motive.’
‘I do.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m seriously interested in all my employees, but I don’t usually take them out for dinner.’
‘And why am I so different?’ she asked softly, watching him with narrowed eyes.
‘Because you fascinate me.’
She stared at her plate. ‘I—’
He’d scared her away. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, hear it in her voice, feel it in every aching muscle in his body.
‘Not that I don’t usually bend my principles for a pretty woman,’ he blurted. ‘Or go after something I want…’ Dammit, he was digging himself deeper.
She glanced up at him, a soft gleam in her eyes and a knowing smile just touching her lips. ‘I know.’
Case leant back in his seat, watching her. Whatever she thought she knew, it made her happier and more relaxed. Who was he to argue?
Whatever she was thinking had put a smile on her face that glowed with a vibrancy that tantalised him.
It couldn’t be bad.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma’s rule number two: make love, not war.
TAHLIA chewed on her bottom lip, walking slowly to her front door, every footfall thundering through a body too alert, too aware of Case so close behind her, the warmth of his suit jacket around her shoulders smothering her with his spicy cologne mixed all too enticingly with pure male scent.
Their third date, in as many days, had been wonderful, the food almost as incredible as the company.
It wasn’t that she wanted to date him, but she found that at work she was so busy with finding files for Case, setting up interviews and doing her own job that she hardly had time to do anything more than admire his dedication to the employees. And he did keep asking her out so she had the opportunity to find out more about him.
Who was she to decline?
At least the plan was working. She was getting to know Case, although she was discovering more about his pets, his parents, his hobbies and his childhood than the details of his career.
Now he was being incredibly tortuous by doing the chivalrous escort-the-girl-to-the-door thing that drove her mind mad with the should-she or shouldn’t-she invitations for coffee, inclinations to kiss him, and intense desire to do more than show him the door after the coffee and kiss.
‘Thank you for another wonderful evening,’ she offered tightly, opening her bag and scrabbling for her keys, pushing the silly notions from her mind.
He was a professional and her boss. Much as she wanted him to be the office playboy, after spending the last few days with him she had serious doubts. He was simply wonderful.
‘My pleasure, Tahlia,’ he said, her name a mere whisper on his breath.
She shivered, plucked out her keys and fought the jumble for the right one. ‘It was great. The mousse was so rich and sweet and smooth—’ She glanced up at him—like his voice, like his jaw, like his lips…
‘It was,’ he said, inching even closer. ‘Can I help?’
She watched as he took the keys from her hand and poked the one she’d labelled ‘front’ in the lock and turned, pushing the door wide.
‘Thanks.’ Tahlia swept his jacket off her shoulders, the moment when he’d wrapped her in it scored in her memory, his body heat still lingering around her, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She tried to keep that comment he’d made that first night she’d gone out with him, that she was just another date, foremost in her mind, but the rest of the week pressed in on her, smothering her senses with a kindness and a warmth a shallow Romeo just shouldn’t have.
She wanted to tell him everything, stay close to him, talk to him all night…and more.
Was this what her mother was feeling? Was this crazy feeling the reason she’d risk so much on a man?
Tahlia looked up into Case’s sapphire-blue eyes. ‘I lied, you know,’ she said softly.
‘Oh, yes?’ he said, lifting an eyebrow and taking a step back. ‘About what, exactly?’
‘I haven’t exactly had my share of boyfriends.’ Tahlia bit her lip. ‘No serious boyfriends at all, really.’
‘Oh.’
Her belly tightened. ‘But don’t get me wrong. I have had boyfriends. Plenty. Just no o
ne special, you know, someone who made me feel like—’ She caught herself. ‘What about you?’
He shook his head. ‘No serious boyfriends either,’ he said softly, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. ‘But I did… I was…in a serious relationship.’
‘And—?’
‘And it didn’t end well,’ he murmured, moving closer. ‘But I believe in second chances. Do you?’
She hadn’t thought she ever could after what her father did… Hadn’t believed she could ever trust a man again, but this feeling, and Case, was special.
She looked up to hand him his jacket, catching his blue gaze and holding it, the gleam residing there fixing her to the spot. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
Case lifted a hand to her face, brushing her cheek with his knuckles, pushing back her long fringe, hooking his fingers around her neck and drawing her closer.
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
‘Case—’ she croaked, moistening her lips instinctively, her whole body aching for him. ‘This may not be a good idea—’ There was still so much to say before anything happened between them.
He leant down, brushing his lips over hers.
Oh, gawd—yes. Sensation sizzled along her lips, cascading down her body, nestling deep in the pit of her stomach where a yearning ache flared.
He tasted her mouth, teased her lips with his own, drawing up his other hand to cup her face.
Oh, hell, yes.
Tahlia pressed her hands against his hard solid chest, his heart thumping beneath her touch, his warm skin beneath just one thin layer of cotton, all that hard muscle and flesh so close…
He drew back, tasting her lips again. ‘You’re probably right. Not a good idea…’ He brushed her lips with his mouth. ‘Not a good idea at all.’
She backed into her doorway, her hands clenched tightly in his shirt. ‘Colleagues and all.’
Case followed, his gaze on her lips, his hands on her shoulders. ‘Absolutely. Not a good practice.’
‘Practise is good,’ she whispered, flicking open his shirt buttons and sliding her hands against his warm skin, revelling in the heat of him, the hardness of him, the incredible smoothness.
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