Dammit.
She needed to be more careful and call him by his first name.
Daniel should be here soon.
She never called him by his first name—at least not out loud. It did suit the man, but calling him Daniel sounded more casual…more intimate…than she was used to. At least for the next few weeks, she'd need to get accustomed to calling him that.
She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, feeling the smoothness of the waxing job. What a painful experience.
Her foot shook under the table, and she mentally told herself to calm down. She saw Daniel every day so tonight would be no different. She brushed her fingers through her new hairstyle, missing her usual twisted bun.
The bartender, dressed in black slacks, a green polo, and a white apron, approached her table. “This is from the gentleman at the end of the bar.” He placed a coaster and napkin on the table and then put an amber colored cocktail atop it. The smell of alcohol wafted from the tiny glass.
At first, she figured the offering was a mistake. After all, men didn't buy her drinks. But when she glanced at the man, he held up his own glass as if toasting her.
She immediately looked away and stared at the beverage. Should she accept the drink? Naturally, she wouldn't drink it. Perhaps sending it back with the bartender would be more proper.
But the bartender had already left, making the decision for her, so Deborah smiled at the man and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
Shit.
He was heading her way.
A heaviness settled within her chest and she felt like a trapped animal.
She glanced at the lobby, but Daniel wasn't there yet. She gently touched the necklace once again. She'd be okay. It wasn't as if this man were coming to rob her, not with so many witnesses.
No, he was coming to share a drink with her. She took a deep breath, thinking it'd be better if he just stole the jewelry and ran.
“May I join you?” The man smiled and gestured to the chair across from her.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She wasn't attracted to the man and didn't want his company, but it had been years since a man had approached her like this. “I'm waiting for someone,” she said with the best smile she could muster on her face.
He sat down anyway. “I'll keep you company until they arrive.”
She straightened in her chair and glared at him. “My date will be here shortly,” Deborah said, hating the man's rudeness.
She studied the man's face. He couldn't be older than late twenties. Did he have any idea she was pushing forty? If he did, she suspected he wouldn't be sitting at this table. Or, could he be on the prowl for a cougar?
“Your eyes are beautiful.”
As if the man could even tell what color they were since he stared at her cleavage. Or, was he staring at the necklace? Maybe he had pegged her for a wealthy woman who would be easy to take advantage of.
She now understood how Daniel felt when he was out and approached by strangers. Fur coat. Expensive jewelry. Designer gown. She was nothing more than a price tag.
“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve every laid eyes on.” His smile broadened. There was something about the gleam in his eye that told her that he genuinely found her attractive.
Perhaps she just needed to accept the compliment and stop letting her imagination run wild.
He gestured to the drink he’d bought her, the coldness of it beading condensation and dripping down the glass to the coaster below. “Let's toast to your beauty and to our chance meeting.”
“I'm sorry, but I don't drink.” She gazed at the vastness of the marble–floored lobby entrance once again, hoping to see Daniel.
No such luck.
16
Daniel was running late and driving slightly faster than usual. A prickling sensation tugged at the back of his neck. He was being followed.
Shifting lanes, he checked for any copy-cat cars, but saw none.
He took a deep breath to shake off his nerves. No one knew his schedule for tonight, other than when he would arrive at the restaurant, so he should be fine.
He suffered from stress. Nothing more.
Plus, the short stop at the baby store had taken much longer than he expected. Who would have guessed the Everything Baby store would be a madhouse?
After fighting traffic and nearly running a red light, he parked his Lexus in a short–term parking spot outside the hotel. He saw no one around and was thrilled that if the press was following him, that they hadn't discovered that he was headed to the Langtham to pick up his date. He wanted the mob at the restaurant, but not here. Giving Ms. Baxter… Deborah privacy was important to the success of the lie.
No one needed to know she was staying at the Langtham. After all, he wouldn't be staying the night. The press didn't need to know every detail of his fake engagement.
He entered the hotel and made his way to the bar. Several people sat on stools and side tables, but he didn't see Deborah anywhere.
Deborah would most likely be alone reading a book or something while she waited. She'd probably stick out like a sore thumb, and yet, he didn't see her anywhere.
He checked his watch. He’d arrived a couple of minutes late. What seemed odd was that she was always on time, if not early. He scanned the room again.
From the corner of his eye, a vision of beauty caught his attention. A brunette sat with a man near the front of the bar. Daniel couldn't see her face, but that hair… the dark ringlets reminded him of his dream woman from the other night.
That exceptionally erotic dream, the one he kept thinking about.
His eyes wandered from her shoulder–length, soft–looking hair to her shoulders and ample chest. She nearly popped out of the dress she wore, and he got an eyeful of her creamy, alabaster skin. Her legs were crossed, and from where he stood, the angle of his vision could see a portion of her upper thigh through the dress’s slit. Her shapely figure was curved in all the right places.
The woman brushed her hand through her dark, brunette hair, and he got a good look at her face. Her pert little nose, her shining green eyes, her flawless skin…she was a vision.
Even without his glasses on, he could tell she was a mature woman, not one of the many young women he had preferred so far. Her appearance was that of a thirty–something–year–old.
Could that be the problem? Was his dream woman more mature and sophisticated than what his little head generally desired? Was that what had made his dream so exciting? He couldn't remember the last time he had dated someone who was over thirty.
He moved closer to the table, feeling drawn to her. She sat tall in her chair, not making eye contact with her date. Her 'don't mess with me' body language gave off a sexy vibe, probably the opposite of what she intended since Daniel overheard her repeatedly ask the man across from her to leave.
Wait.
Daniel's head craned around to get a better look at the woman's face now that he stood closer. Her voice sounded so familiar that he was sure he knew her.
He now stood close enough to stare at the woman. It was Deborah.
Her flawless skin. Her dark hair. Her lyrical voice.
She was stunning.
His gaze took in the sight of her whole body. Poised and perfect. Delicate and delightful.
She was a vision, but her companion was clearly annoying her.
Rarely did Daniel ever see Deborah flustered and uncomfortable, but the expression on her face showed her uneasiness. She wanted the man to leave, and the guy deliberately continued to hit on her and ignore her requests.
With each step, a finger curled into Daniel's palm as though it was a countdown to an explosion.
“My date will be here soon. You should leave,” Deborah said.
“The man is a fool for keeping you waiting.”
Daniel puffed up his chest and stood tall in front of the table. Glaring at the man, he said, “I believe you're in my seat.”
The man's gaze ping–ponged from
Daniel to Deborah, but he didn't budge.
Daniel leaned in and put one fist on the table, getting up close to the man. “You need to un–ass my chair.”
“He was just leaving,” Deborah said.
The man grabbed his drink and stood next to Daniel. He had youth on his side, but Daniel noticed he lacked in the height—as well as manners—department. He left the table, heading to the bar to possibly find another victim for the night.
Daniel scowled at the man until he’d walked a safe distance away. He then sat and looked at Deborah. “You all right?”
Deborah nodded. “Apparently, that man was never taught manners.”
Speaking of manners, Daniel had arrived late. “I didn't mean to keep you waiting.” Daniel felt bad for her having to deal with such a loser. “I didn't realize someone would be hitting on you.”
“Men hit on women all the time, especially in bars. I was handling it.”
“I didn't mean to imply that you weren't handling it. I'm just sorry you needed to.” Did men hit on her all the time? He’d never thought of her going out on dates to bars, but it was possible.
Now that he sat close to her, he had a clear view of her plunging neckline. The woman must never go out in the sun because her flawless skin looked baby–smooth.
“Did you want to order a drink or something before we go?” she asked.
Good Lord, he was practically gawking at her so he quickly averted his eyes. Something about her was different tonight. She wore dresses all the time at work; although, not a dress like this. And her hair was normally neatly and professionally pulled back, not like it was tonight, all loose and sexy and framing her face.
He then realized what was missing. “Can you see without your glasses?” he asked, making sure to only look at her face.
“Contacts.” Deborah took the last sip of her Sprite. “I've had them for years, but don't prefer them.” She took a deep breath. “Caroline suggested I wear them.”
Daniel remembered that the contract had mentioned a spa day so he pointed to her hair. “You look different.”
Different? She looked gorgeous in a sundae—no, in a banana split—type of way. Stunning dress. Sexy body. His gaze once again moved to her ample bosom, which nearly popped out of the gown.
Her hand touched a brunette lock of hair. “Caroline suggested a new style, so…”
He glanced back up at her hairstyle. “You look beautiful.” The bartender approached, but there was no time for drinks. Daniel stood and held out his arm. “Are you ready for dinner?”
Deborah felt like a fish out of water. Hopefully, no one could tell. This was only an elegant dinner out, so why was she sweating so much? She had eaten with Daniel in the past. Sure it was mainly food they had ordered into the office when they worked late, but this evening would be nothing different.
Mas Rafs' elegance and class impressed her, and they had only valeted the rental car and stood in front of the place. How many times had she confirmed dinner reservations at this location on Daniel's calendar?
Tonight her curiosity would be fulfilled. This restaurant's reputation preceded it, and it always received high marks from the food critics.
It was also expensive as hell.
She had just draped the stole higher on her shoulders and placed some dark glasses on to conceal her identity when Daniel held out the crook of his arm. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
A flush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. This was a date. She needed to remember that. She was allowed, and expected, to touch the man. Her heart pounded as she entwined her arm with his. “Sorry, I should have… well, of course, sir.”
A light flickering from across the parking lot caught her attention, even through her sunglasses. A photographer was taking their picture. She hadn’t expected the show to begin this early, especially with a different rental car, but according to the contract, she needed to act like a loving fiancée.
Daniel kept walking as though he hadn’t noticed the man and his camera. She now leaned in to whisper about the photographer. Daniel's head jerked as though surprised she was standing so close to him. In a slightly louder voice than she had intended, she whispered, “The press is already here, darling.”
She had wondered what, if any, endearing name she might call him. Many of the names she had considered didn’t fit. And she would never embarrass him with a name such as Pookie and the like. Somehow ‘darling’ felt more appropriate.
His stature softened, and he did his part of pretending to be her love interest. “I had hoped that the picture Scott took in his office would be enough,” Daniel said. “I guess the vultures just need more.”
He held her closer in what felt a much more intimate way, which now allowed her to get a good whiff of his cologne. She knew exactly which brand he preferred since she kept his house stocked. The fragrance was a high–quality one with a light muskiness. She’d just never stood close enough to appreciate it before. The wind picked up, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent.
Just before they entered the restaurant, several reporters called out Daniel’s name, which proved that Caroline’s tweet leakage to the media certainly paid off well. Maybe too well considering how many people were here.
Deborah knew this was the first time Daniel would be making a public appearance with her fiancée, but she had never been the attention of the paparazzi before. She didn’t like the attention and now understood why Daniel hated it, and had always avoided it. Everyone in the crowd now stared at them and cameras and microphones were being thrust in their faces.
There were several questions, and they were jumbled together so that she couldn’t make out one reporters voice over another.
The only sentence that did make its way through was a deep voice that stood out. It wasn’t a question, just more of a demand for Daniel to give his fiancée a kiss.
Her mind had barely enough time to process the request before she felt him grasp her waist and pull her closer. She sucked in a deep breath a second before his lips touched hers.
His strong arm held her waist from behind, which was good since she felt her knees give way. The kiss was tender and chaste, but only one sided. She hadn’t even moved her lips or… hell, he could have kissed a mannequin and gotten more of a response.
The kiss ended as quickly as it had started, and she looked away finding it hard to make eye contact with anyone.
Not that she had any right to do so, but how often had she dreamed about kissing Daniel? Decades? The moment was gone before it had even really begun. The kiss was flat and…and…her lips curled up in a smile. She had kissed Daniel! Oh, it wasn’t a kiss that would ever make it into a romance novel, but the next one…
The next one would… Her fantasy began taking off. It’d be passionate, it’d be rich with emotion, it would… No, it needed to feel the same way. Flat and uneventful.
Too much was at stake.
She may be a key member in this little farce, but that was all it was. A fictitious story that needed to remain in la-la land.
There’d be no passion. There’d be no excitement. There’d be no invitation up to her room extended.
Nothing.
The crowd gave way now that they got what they wanted. They then entered the dimly lit restaurant, which oozed romance. His touch still lingered on her lips, so she touched them and told herself that the kiss meant nothing. This was a business agreement, and nothing else.
“Our table should be ready,” he said.
A man dressed in a suit held up his arms, walked the entry's small hallway, and greeted them. He gave Daniel a half–handshake and half–hug greeting.
“Deborah, this is Adam. He owns the restaurant.”
Adam Levinson, the owner of the place—and another person to perform in front of.
She took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand.
It was dinner.
Dinner out with Daniel at a fine restaurant.
She could do this.
She
could have recognized Adam’s voice anywhere since she had talked to him numerous times over the phone. Giving him a pleasant smile and extending her hand for a handshake, Deborah was surprised when he took the offering and gently kissed the back of her hand.
The man inspected her from head to toe and then a twinkle appeared in his eye. “This one is a keeper, Daniel.”
Her jaw fell slack and she gaped at the man. She felt on display, and yet, all she could think of was the scene from Disney's Lady and the Tramp with the restaurant owner saying to Tramp, “You keepa dis one.”
She hoped spaghetti wasn't going to be served.
“I set up a private room for you tonight, and I asked the chef to prepare something extra special.” Adam gestured with his hand for them to follow. “I hope you like Italian.”
An image of her and Daniel sharing a spaghetti noodle appeared in her mind. This was her boss, not her date. She planned to order the most expensive entrée. There would be no sharing of food tonight.
17
According to the Self-Made Diva magazine, Daniel needed to practice how to connect with a woman on a date, and Ms. Baxter would be the perfect guinea pig. So why was he struggling to get the words out?
It was probably due to the kiss outside the restaurant.
He had thought it would feel like kissing a sister or other female relative, but it didn’t.
The kiss wasn’t passionate, but his heart was pounding when he reached in and claimed her lips. The entire event had unsettled him, which was why the kiss was only a peck on the lips.
He took a deep breath to relieve his tension. New clothes, new hairstyle, new role… but same Ms. Baxter.
The excitement he had felt was just because the newness of it all. Nothing else.
Employees are off-limits.
Period.
He looked down at his empty glass and then caught the waiter's attention. “I'll take another,” he said, ordering his second scotch of the evening in a more aggravated tone than he had intended.
After having memorized the top five dinner conversation starters from his latest edition of Self–Made Diva, he leaned in and continued with question number four, hoping to get more of a conversation going than just a yes or no answer.
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