‘The beginning of our working relationship,’ he said smoothly, keeping his voice low and intimate. He lifted the bottle chilling on ice. ‘Champagne?’
‘Is it French?’ she demanded, with a supercilious lift of one eyebrow. ‘I only drink French.’
He gritted his teeth and then pulled in a breath. ‘Naturally.’ He’d manage suave and charming if it killed him. She could shrug and yawn all she liked. What she’d get in return was cultured and courteous. Determination settled over him. He’d impress her with this meal. He’d impress her with his manners. He’d break down the barriers she’d erected, and he’d make her laugh, joke and spar with him and enjoy herself. He’d make her see he wasn’t a beast.
‘How do you know I haven’t cooked?’ He was honestly curious.
She sipped the champagne before answering. It left a shine on her lips and he found it difficult to drag his gaze away. She might’ve scorned make-up and glamorous clothing, but her bearing, her gestures, betrayed her innate sensuality. She moved with the fluid grace and assurance of a confident woman.
‘There are only finished-meal smells, no cooking smells.’
He blinked.
‘Plus, cooking is noisy and the apartment has been quiet all evening.’
Aha. So she had been aware.
‘You ought to serve the fish before it dries out.’
How the hell?
‘I can smell it,’ she said before he could ask.
She was a chef. Of course she could smell it.
She flipped out her napkin and smoothed it across her lap then raised an eyebrow. He jerked into action. He was supposed to be acting smooth, suave; serving food with finesse and style. Not standing there gaping at her like some uncouth teenager. Like a...
Like a sap!
He shot into the kitchen, braced his hands against a bench and counted to three.
He was not uncouth. He was not a sap. He was not a big bad wolf.
He would make her smile.
He opened his eyes, pushed his shoulders back and grabbed their plates. With a flourish he set the cod in white wine sauce in front of her, then slid into the seat opposite. Anticipation fired through him.
She sniffed. He leaned in closer, watching for the dreamy expression he’d imagined rippling across her face. If he had her pegged right, Bella would react to fine food the way other women reacted to jewellery.
‘They’ve used oregano in the sauce instead of marjoram.’ Her lips turned down. ‘Why overpower the delicate taste of the fish like that?’ Her clear eyes met his, disappointment etched in their depths. He lost the power to speak.
She picked up her fork, flaked off a small piece and brought it to her lips. He held his breath and waited. No dreamy expression appeared. Disappointment burned through him, hot and acrid.
As if she could feel his gaze, she glanced up and met it. ‘It’s nice and moist, though,’ she said with a faintly resigned, ‘it’s what I expected’ half smile, half grimace. As if she had to search her mind for a compliment to toss off as a sop to his ego.
As if he were a sap.
Dominic lost his appetite then and there.
CHAPTER FIVE
OH MY God! The fish was out-of-this-world delicious. It took all of Bella’s willpower not to moan in pleasure as she forked another glorious morsel into her mouth. She nearly weakened altogether at Dominic’s evident disappointment, but hastily pulled herself up. Weaken now, and she was lost. Conquered territory et cetera.
She didn’t know how it was possible to stop becoming emotionally involved when one made love. She didn’t know how Dominic managed it, and she didn’t want to know his secret either. But when she made love, she wanted to give herself wholeheartedly.
Oh, she knew some movies, books and pop songs exaggerated the link between love and sex, but it was only possible to exaggerate something that already existed. And she felt the germ of truth in those movies, books and songs right down in her bone marrow. Right down in her heart.
She wanted to love the man she made love with. She wanted to be sure of his love for her.
She wanted ‘for ever’.
Dominic and for ever? Ha! If she were lucky he might promise her to the end of next week.
Not good enough.
Even though Bella knew she was making the sensible decision, the right choice for her, her body kicked up a ruckus in protest. Her eyes burned. Her head started to ache.
And the rotten fish was delicious!
She’d resisted being lumped with all the cooking because, in her mind, cooking night after night for a man could become as dangerous as sleeping with him. If a woman wasn’t careful, she could find herself building fantasies around him. Stupid fantasies.
If you ate night after night with a man, could you create stupid fantasies, too?
With an abrupt movement she set her plate on the floor for Minky. The delicious smells had brought her out of hiding and made her semi-amiable, at least for the moment.
‘What the—?’
‘Minky may be a prima donna,’ she said with an airy wave of her hand, pretending not to notice his outrage, desperately trying to keep her hormones in check. ‘But she won’t notice the oregano, and if she does she won’t care. What’s for mains?’
She waited for him to slam his cutlery to his plate, explode at her for her rudeness and then storm out of the apartment. She wouldn’t blame him, either. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but the only way she’d ever managed subtle was in a sauce.
He was a womaniser, and he was ruthless. This was supposed to be a business arrangement, yet here he was taking full advantage of the situation. She sat back, hardened her heart. She would not be taken advantage of. She would not be distracted from what she wanted to achieve.
And, while she may be at a loss at how to keep him onside while keeping him at arm’s length, from the moment she’d opened her bedroom door and found him standing there dressed to kill—in the rotten candlelight, no less—a part of her had decided he deserved everything she could throw at him tonight. And more.
All this glorious food was just part and parcel of an elaborate seduction. He wasn’t interested in her as a woman, a person. He was interested in the challenge...and the body.
A pulse in her throat fluttered to life.
‘The next course is a surprise,’ he informed her with an urbanity that masked everything but the appreciative light in his eyes as they rested on her face.
Man, he was good. She wanted to applaud his polish, his cool. Instead, when he disappeared back into the kitchen with their plates she seized the moment to rest her elbows on the table, press her palms to her eyes and breathe deeply.
He returned with their main course. The smell hit her first, then he set it down in front of her and her mouth watered with the kind of ferocity she normally reserved for a good curry.
A lamb loin.
Stuffed.
With a crust.
She wanted to close her eyes and inhale its scent. Then she wanted to savour every succulent morsel. She didn’t. She lifted her knife and fork, sent him a tight little smile, then cut into the moist meat.
Oh, good Lord. Hot-knife-through-butter tender.
She brought a piece to her lips, aware of how closely he watched her, as if by sheer willpower he could regulate her responses.
She knew what response he wanted: her surrender.
Not in this lifetime, buddy.
She closed her mouth around the morsel of food...
Mamma Mia! She chewed and tried not to let the taste transport her. By some miracle she managed to keep her face wooden as she did her best to concentrate on the combination of flavours, like a wine taster. Only, there was no way she was spitting this out. It was way too good for that.
‘How’s the sauce?’
She almost laughed at the edge behind the polite enquiry. ‘Actually, it’s quite good.’ Divine, really. ‘I just don’t understand why the chef chose cashews for the crust rather than pine
nuts.’ Oh, yes, she did.
She feigned indifference as she took another bite. Minky meowed. She pushed the cat away with the edge of her foot. No way; she wasn’t sharing this. ‘Pine nuts would’ve enhanced the texture and lifted this dish out of the ordinary.’ Not!
‘Ordinary?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. Still he didn’t explode. Instead he reached out and poured her a glass of red wine. She glanced at the label and dabbed at her mouth again. ‘What made you choose a Merlot over a Cabernet Sauvignon?’
He slammed the bottle down, his eyes shooting sparks. ‘I didn’t choose it,’ he ground out. ‘The restaurant promised to provide an ideal wine with each course.’
She slammed her knife and fork to her plate and met his glare with one of her own. ‘The restaurant? You didn’t even choose the wine yourself?’ Indignation shot through her. Had he done anything other than make a phone call? ‘What does the restaurant know? Who is this restaurant anyway, if they’re supposed to be so darn good?’
‘The Regency Bellevue,’ he ground out between clenched teeth. ‘And they’re the best.’
‘Pah! My restaurant will be better than this.’ She pushed her plate away in disgust. Not in disgust at the food—despite her boast, it’d take a lot of hard work to reach the same standard as the Regency Bellevue, hard work she was fully prepared to put in—but in disgust at Dominic. Did he really think he could seduce a woman without putting in a real effort?
‘Is there no pleasing you?’ Dominic snapped.
‘I’d be well pleased if this was all innocent, a meal shared with a business colleague, but it’s not innocent, is it?’
* * *
Her accusation brought him up short. While he had no intention of seducing her, he had done everything in his power to let her think he meant to. So, innocent? Not precisely.
He hadn’t expected her to challenge him head-on, though. The women he knew played games, hedged and shifted, and would never issue such a direct challenge. Evidently Bella wasn’t of their ilk.
‘But if you’re so hell-bent on seduction, at least put in a decent effort!’
He gaped. ‘Decent effort?’
‘What, beyond forking out an obscene amount of money that you can well afford, have you actually invested of yourself this evening?’
‘Time and thought,’ he shot back.
‘Time, huh? How long did it take you to consult with the chef and decide on a menu? Fifteen minutes?’
He held her gaze but shifted on his seat again and her lips twisted.
‘Ten minutes? And how much thought did you put into those ten minutes?’
He didn’t say anything.
‘And then the food was delivered by someone else, the table set by someone else. You just donned your glad rags and served it up and you expect me to applaud and think you’re wonderful? I don’t think so.’ She sat back and folded her arms.
‘A simple “thank you” would’ve sufficed.’
This time it was she who shifted on her chair, but she stared at him with eyes that screamed ‘big bad wolf’. He’d been an idiot to play this game.
‘I wasn’t trying to seduce you,’ he ground out.
Her eyes called him a liar.
How had this backfired so spectacularly? ‘The conclusions you jumped to about me earlier... They annoyed me. You condemned me as a womaniser.’
Her eyes became less certain. ‘Are you telling me you’re not a womaniser?’
If he did it’d be an outright lie. He frowned. So why had he taken offence at the truth?
Because it wasn’t true where she was concerned!
How was she supposed to know that?
He scowled and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And you wrote me off as some kind of unreconstructed jerk who was going to land you with all the household chores.’
She bit her lip.
‘And you’d jumped to all those conclusions not based on any evidence of your own but because of hearsay and gossip.’
She stilled.
‘So I decided to teach you a lesson. I thought I’d let you think seduction was precisely what I had on my mind.’ He leaned across the table towards her. He eyes widened and her lemon tang taunted him. ‘And at the end of the evening, when you were anticipating my main move...’
Her throat worked. ‘Yes?’
‘I was simply going to say good night and retire to my room alone. And leave you stewing in the realisation that you’d read me all wrong, that you’d judged me unfairly.’
She stared at him and something in her eyes flashed. ‘Don’t you think that’s a stupidly elaborate charade to go through just to teach me a lesson? Why on earth didn’t you tell me to just wake up to myself? Much simpler and more straightforward, don’t you think? Why didn’t you talk to me about it like an...an adult?’
‘Because you weren’t acting like an adult!’ he exploded back at her. ‘Because you kept acting like I was about to jump on you any moment like some bloody big bad wolf. All of that...virginal shrinking really got my back up and—’
He broke off when Bella flinched at his words. Even in the candlelight he could see colour flood her face. She refused to meet his eyes.
He stared, and kept right on staring. ‘My God,’ he finally breathed. ‘You have to be joking me?’
The colour deepened. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she croaked, her voice dry and brittle. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
No! It couldn’t be... He stabbed a finger down on the table between them. ‘You can’t seriously expect me to believe that you are a virgin?’
She glared at him then. ‘I’m not asking you to believe anything!’
Bella Maldini was a virgin? Dominic shot back in his seat, folded his arms and glared. Hell! This woman should come with a warning sign, with flashing lights and alarm bells over her beautiful head.
A virgin!
Dominic steered well clear of virgins. He dragged both hands back through his hair and praised the powers that be that his intentions tonight hadn’t veered towards a real seduction. If he’d seduced Bella for real...
He clenched his jaw. Virgins built sex up to be an amazing romantic oneness, a mingling of the souls. They confused sex with love. They hadn’t learned yet that love was a myth. They hadn’t learned yet to disassociate sex from love. Some women never did; Dominic steered well clear of them, too. He might be a womaniser, but he wasn’t stupid.
A virgin? Perspiration broke out on his upper lip. He had a reputation as a heartbreaker, but he only slept with women who shared his views about sex. Anything else became too complicated.
He wasn’t into complications.
He didn’t want to be the man to shatter a woman’s illusions.
He wasn’t into tears and he wasn’t into heartbreak. There was enough pain in the world as it was and he had no intention of adding to it. Light-hearted laughter and fun, an uncomplicated good time—that was his speciality. Ring him for that, and he’d be there in a flash. But for anything more? Forget it.
‘A virgin,’ he murmured again. Unbelievable.
Bella tossed her head and glared. ‘So what if I am? What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing.’ Absolutely nothing. But thank heavens he’d never had any real intention of pursuing uncomplicated, light-hearted fun with Bella, that was all he could say.
Damn it! He didn’t have a one-track mind. He and Bella needed to get this sex question settled. They were in Newcastle because they had a job to do. End of story.
‘I owe you an apology.’
That snapped him to.
‘I did come here thinking the worst about you,’ she admitted. ‘That wasn’t fair and I’m sorry.’
Her apology took him off-guard. The spoiled little rich girl knew how to apologise? He’d accused her of misjudging him, but in that instant he wondered just how much he’d misjudged her, too. She obviously hadn’t spent the last several years being a party girl like
he’d thought.
‘Apology accepted.’ He couldn’t mistake the relief that flitted across her face, and for some reason that made him feel more like a big bad wolf than anything else had so far today.
He clenched his hands. They were putting this sex question to bed once and for all. ‘You were right to be on your guard, Bella. I do have a reputation and, while the gossips have no doubt exaggerated it, I shouldn’t have blamed you for thinking what you did.’
‘No,’ she countered. ‘I should’ve known better. I should’ve made up my own mind about you instead of listening to what other people said. You see, I hate it when people judge me based on who my father is. So I really, really should’ve known better than to do the same to you.’
For a moment he was at a loss and that so rarely happened that three additional beats went by before he found his voice again, which might have been why he blurted it out so badly. ‘I have a no-sex policy with work colleagues.’ It wasn’t a hundred per cent true; he could recall a couple of temps he’d considered fair game. But in Bella’s case it was ‘lock it in the safe and throw away the key’ true.
She leaned towards him. ‘Really?’
He wished he didn’t notice the way her breasts rose and fell beneath that awful track suit. ‘Cross my heart.’
‘So this—’ she gestured around the apartment ‘—really is all business?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Oh, that is good news!’
She beamed at him and it took all his power to keep his blood cool and his mind on her words rather than the shape of her mouth.
‘Because, Dominic, there is so much I want to learn from you.’
He didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t groan. He told himself that eventually he wouldn’t read a double meaning into everything she said.
Her grin widened. He didn’t groan about that either, but one thing became startlingly clear—he didn’t want to become all buddy-buddy with her. Business, plain and simple. No complications.
‘So what did you get for dessert?’
He stared at her for a long moment. ‘I respect your father in ways I doubt you could even begin to understand.’
Her smile faded. ‘I’m not sure what it is you’re trying to say.’
Bella's Impossible Boss Page 5
