Her email beeped.
Dinner. 8. Luxe.
Brows knit together, she stared at the screen. Just how did he expect her to make that happen?
With a huff, she opened the spreadsheet she’d created of the restaurants he enjoyed, complete with his favorite dish at each and the number for a contact who could get him a table no matter what. Thank goodness, he tipped so well it took no time for Curtis Frye to have dinner reservations at three of the best restaurants in San Francisco. It seemed everyone had a table for the current talk of the town. Everyone except Luxe.
Robyn emailed him the restaurants he had to choose from and hit send with more force than was necessary.
In a few seconds, his reply made her eyebrow twitch.
Good idea.
No telling her which restaurant he’d selected so she could cancel the others, just good idea.
Whatever that meant. This day definitely called for plentiful quantities of caffeine and chocolate, preferably blended together.
“Are you ready?”
Robyn jumped in her seat, her whole body tensing at the unexpected interruption. She gripped the edge of her desk to center herself and looked up at Curtis looming above her desk, his broad shoulders shifting impatiently.
“Ready for what?” She blinked a few times, her eyes dry from staring at the computer monitor too long. Deciphering the scratches and scrawls Curtis considered handwriting into flow charts and slide presentations took miracles. Hard work, experience, computer knowledge, and miracles. If she got the slightest bit of it wrong, she’d likely have to start the entire presentation over. Which was why she had engrossed herself in the project completely, not allowing any outside distractions until his voice tickled at her ear.
How did he do that? Manipulate sound waves to feel like a touch?
“Dinner. I called to push back the reservation once. I could do it again if you need, but I haven’t eaten since lunch.” He gave her a smile that could make a leopard change its spots.
Focus, Robyn. He’s just smiling. Being friendly. “Do I need to drive you and—”
“No. Landry left when you were at lunch. The riverboats are a go. I’ve been working on the mall projects while you’ve been in the zone out here.”
He stepped closer, leaning over her for a better look at her computer. The scent of his warm skin ignited her imagination. She swallowed hard, trying to block the image of him leaning just a little closer, swiping the piles of paper on her desk to the floor, and lifting her from her chair and placing her on the cool mahogany.
“Don’t spend any more time on the Chicago high-rise deal. Pass what you’ve done to the New York office. I assigned the venture to a project manager this morning.”
So much for fantasies. She returned her attention to her computer and the spreadsheet she’d spent hours cleaning up. “I’ll package up my notes and get everything ready to go out in the morning Fed Ex.” She turned in her seat, stuffing papers back into their folders.
Curtis’s warm hand drifted down on top of hers, covering it completely. Breath stuttered in her throat as she raised her gaze to his.
Just like this morning, she was caught up in it, locked inside her own desire to do nothing but stare at him. Well, not nothing. But she didn’t dare do enough to get herself fired.
“Let’s get out of the office where we can talk.” The husky inflection of his voice promised more than talking, more than dinner. And yet his eyes showed nothing at all. Only the intense blue-green stare.
Was he propositioning her? She had no idea how office romances started, but she didn’t think men like Curtis Frye settled for women like her when they were accustomed to waif-thin models.
His lips tilted in a smile. “Are you ready?”
For what? With a nod of her head that did nothing to center her universe, currently spinning in all sorts of directions, she collected her purse and stood, finding herself in the same position that had struck her dumb this morning.
Fantasy and reality were morphing into one, turning the centimeters that separated their bodies into riots of electricity.
Okay, Robyn. Last chance to do the smart thing and save yourself from a lifetime of embarrassment. Because if he makes the slightest move, you know you’ll be all over him.
“I’m ready.”
“Great.” With his hand protectively on the small of her back, he guided her all the way to the elevator. “Do you mind if I drive?”
She stepped inside and handed him the keys.
“After tonight, the truck is all yours, I promise. No more having to drive me around.”
“Except you’re the one driving.”
“True.” He handed back the keys. “You should drive so you’re used to it when you drop me off.”
Drop him off? Laughter bubbled inside, but she tamped it down. Of course Curtis Frye wasn’t asking her to dinner, he was asking her to drive him to dinner because he didn’t have a car.
She fell in step beside him, nearly running into him when he stopped at the door to the parking garage.
“I should drive.”
“It’s odd to be your chauffeur when you never let me drive.” She tried for a smile, but his puzzled expression showed she’d missed.
“You’re not my chauffeur. There might be photographers, and it takes some aggressive driving to get around them. It can be frightening to try to maneuver a vehicle that size with people all around you.”
Tilting her head, she pulled her purse higher on her shoulder. “Do you want me to drive around front and pick you up?”
He stiffened, nostrils flaring. “No. That’s ridiculous.” He took the keys from her hand and opened the door. His head turned from side to side, then back to her. “There are two by the exit ramp. If we run, we can be inside before they get their cameras up.”
He didn’t wait for her assent, just grabbed her hand and pulled her across the nearly empty parking garage. He unlocked the doors with the remote, but it caused the headlights to flash and the photographers to come running.
Breathless, Robyn climbed into her seat and slammed the door. Before she got her seat belt on, Curtis had started the engine and was pulling away. He nearly missed a photographer who shoved his lens against the tinted windows.
“Where did you make reservations for again?”
She listed the restaurants from memory. As Curtis maneuvered through the streets she realized he still had dinner plans. A ping of jealousy wiggled through her, and she pushed her watch higher on her wrist.
“So am I some kind of decoy for whomever you are meeting tonight?” The vinegar in her voice surprised her. Man, if she was going to be bitter about every woman he dated, she really needed to find a different job. She’d go crazy if she had to get dinner reservations, arrange romantic getaways, buy gifts for the other woman.
She pressed her lips together in disgust. She was acting like a jealous wife, and she was his assistant, nothing more. It might not be safe for her sanity to stay much longer.
“We’re going to dinner so you and I can talk. I have a brilliant idea, and I want you to keep an open mind when I tell you about it. But not while I’m trying to lose the creep tailing us.”
They drove in silence. Curtis pulled down a side street next to one of the restaurants at which she’d made reservations, the car following pulled into the parking lot then speed away.
She tried to distract herself from the feeling of being hunted, wondering why Curtis wanted to run an idea by her. He never had before. He didn’t present projects to anyone until he knew the response would be positive. Why would he need her opinion?
She rubbed the base of her neck where a headache was forming from having her thick hair pulled back so tightly for so long. She undid the clip and massaged the aching muscles with her fingers. Why couldn’t anything about this day make sense?
Her world was waffling between fantasy and reality, and at the moment, she wanted a little more fantasy in the mix. If she really was going to have d
inner with Curtis, she wanted to look more like someone who’d be sharing a meal with him and less like, well, his secretary. Ugh.
What she wouldn’t give for a poof from a fairy godmother that could magically put her in a sexy red cocktail dress.
He pulled the SUV alongside the curb in front of the nondescript restaurant, housed in what used to be a warehouse. The best restaurants in San Francisco had nominal storefronts and focused entirely on the food. Luxe didn’t even have a sign. She furrowed her brow. When she couldn’t get him in at Luxe, he must have done it himself.
She was so confused. Curtis opened her door before she even thought to. From nowhere, blinding flashes and shouted questions clashed, and her nerves tightened in panic. Curtis pulled her against him. “Let’s get inside, quickly.”
He practically carried her across the sidewalk and into the restaurant. The shouting and flashing tried to follow them inside, but Curtis turned back and held up one hand. “We all know you can’t come inside the restaurant. If you want a usable picture, stay back and frame your damn shot.” He turned on his heel and marched back inside. “Are you all right?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, calming the raging emotions. He gently squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to walk through that.”
“And I have to walk through it again to head home. I don’t understand why anyone would do something like that. Kendra has press releases with photos, and you’re doing interviews on Friday. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not for some of them.” The apology in his tone made her heart sink. This was his life, every day.
The host greeted Curtis and led them both through a darkened archway into an empty dining room. Every table in the restaurant was covered in creamy cotton with blue votive candles and snowball-like hydrangeas. “I hope everything meets your needs, Mr. Frye.”
“It’s perfect.” Curtis pulled out a chair at the table, and, not quite sure what was happening, Robyn sat.
The dark-haired man scurried past them, through a door leading to what she guessed was the kitchen. The room must be light and airy during the day, minimalist and fresh. But at night, with the lights turned down, candlelight flickering on the bare walls, bursts of blue hydrangeas everywhere, it was a summertime romance heaven. If this were a date. Which it seemed to be. Just not for her.
He couldn’t actually expect her to sit through his date, watch him with someone else, and then drive him home. She’d… Well, she’d start crying, most likely. Before she could even formulate a question, he asked one.
“You look nervous. Are you still upset about earlier?”
Which earlier did he mean? Him arriving at her apartment before the morning paper? Barely speaking to her once they were in the office, using email instead? The mad dash to the SUV, the paparazzi when they arrived at the restaurant?
“I think I have whiplash.”
His gaze narrowed with worry. “I didn’t realize they’d hurt you. Do you need to see a doctor?”
She shook her head. “Not from being blinded by flashbulbs. From this day. I’m not sure what is going on.”
“If you’re not sure, then I’m doing something wrong.”
The waiter returned with a bottle of champagne and showed the label to Curtis. Probably real champagne from France, not the sparkling California wine most people passed off as champagne.
She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, checking for bumps. Maybe she’d slipped in the shower this morning and had been hallucinating her own personal Wonderland ever since. Except she’d worked very hard today—and if she dreamed about work, she was truly pathetic.
Still, this wasn’t her life. She didn’t dine at five-star establishments. She ate at chain restaurants with massive margarita menus. Guys she dated didn’t make reservations, let alone close down entire dining rooms for a private party. And she’d never tasted real champagne. This wasn’t a dream. It was a whole new world.
Curtis poured the champagne, and the tiniest of bubbles burst at the surface of the pale gold liquid. Champagne, a romantic restaurant, a day of feeling completely off-kilter. She was standing on the precipice and so much as a wink from him would push her over the edge.
She took the glass from his outstretched hand, not sure if it was meant for her, or if she was supposed to set it at his date’s place. Or was she his date?
“What’s happening here? You have been so weird today. Did you get abducted by aliens last night? Have some kind of personality reset procedure?”
“How am I acting differently?”
“You showed up at my apartment before the sun like some kind of reverse booty call, where instead of having sex we carpool.”
He had the nerve to start laughing. And he had the best laugh, light and rich and smooth. And his eyes squinted up with little crinkles at the side. Whoa, girl, don’t get lost in him.
“We stopped for coffee and you ordered for me like we’re some married couple.”
“Anyone who knows you has witnessed your obsession with coffee milkshakes.”
And he had that smile that made her want to grab his face and— Gah. She had to focus. In spite of herself, her mouth curled in a grin. “Seriously, what’s going on? Is this some kind of practice date?”
His lips tilted in a smile. “Dating is for people who don’t know each other. We know each other quite well, don’t you think?”
She nodded in agreement, still perplexed. She knew him on paper, and in fantasies. Reality was another matter entirely. One he seemed to have no desire to help her out with.
She lifted her glass. “To the riverboat deal.”
“To gambling on a sure thing.” He clinked her glass and sipped his champagne, staring at her with hooded eyes.
Crisp sweetness flooded her mouth as she sipped, then the bubbles burst, tickling her tongue with the dry flavor of the grape. She loved it—real champagne was light years beyond the stuff they sold at the supermarket—but she wished it were vodka. Something strong to take the edge off her insecurities. Because she couldn’t fathom why Curtis Frye was flirting with her, had done all this probably with seducing her in mind, which would be a fantastic idea if she could get her conscience to quiet down.
He’s your boss.
You won’t be able to work with him after.
You’ll have nothing but a memory when you leave.
A regret.
And yet she’d regret it either way. After tonight, she’d always be uncomfortable working with him, whether she indulged herself in what he offered or not.
…
“More champagne?”
“Goodness, yes.” She set her glass in front of him and stared at him as if he’d sprouted another head.
“Are you still upset about earlier?”
“I’m not upset, just confused.” She lifted her now-full champagne flute and stared at the bubbles. “I’m not sure why we’re here, what you want to talk about, and why you needed to clear an entire restaurant to do it.”
“I wanted to make sure you know how much I appreciate all you do for me.”
“You said that with the SUV. Which I think is mine, although I haven’t actually driven it yet.”
Robyn had a grin that ignited his imagination. She wasn’t the obvious beauty he was accustomed to, the overt brand of sexiness so common in the women he’d dated in the last few years. When he’d thought up this idea, he hadn’t thought their relationship would be more than business, hadn’t considered the inclination until he’d seen the picture of her as a girl with Cinderella aspirations and realized she held them still. He could do romance if it meant she’d agree to make their engagement public.
Though, as she stared at him, he realized her price was much higher than he’d bargained for. She loved this, would want more and more until she was as addicted to the attention as she was to her coffee milkshakes. She was a stunning combination of effortless, radiant sensuality with gentle, unaffected innocence.
That she had no idea what he had planned was
written all over her face. And damn if she didn’t look cute trying not to be perplexed. She’d been like that her first few weeks on the job, never asking what he meant, just trudging forward and finding things out for herself.
Her determination and loyalty made her the obvious choice, but sitting alone with her in a now-private restaurant, he had to wonder how a part of him hadn’t registered how green her eyes were, how fantastic she’d look after an afternoon with his mother’s expertise on appearance. It would truly be like Cinderella—a little magic, and she’d radiate the confidence she lacked.
All through dinner, she studied him, and he could see the ebb and flow of brightness in her eyes as she followed one hypothesis after another in her mind. It occurred to him she might think he was propositioning her for a simple office affair, and it felt out of character for her to be considering it. But he didn’t know that side of her. Sharing more than a workday with Robyn Tindall held a new appeal.
“This day has been so strange. Amazing, but disjointed, like I’m dreaming.” She twirled her spoon in the crème brûlée. “Dinner tonight was the best meal I’ve ever had, hands down.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
She set down her spoon and leaned back in her chair. “I’ve never had lavender in desert before. I’ll have to tell Carmella.”
“The sleepy roommate?”
“That’s the one. She’ll never believe this day.” Robyn’s words had flowed like a waterfall after the second glass of champagne. Since her third, she’d been completely relaxed. “She’ll think I dreamed everything.”
“Why?”
“Please. My boss drove me around all day like a chauffeur, I was bum-rushed by paparazzi, had dinner with California’s most eligible bachelor, and he closed down one of the best restaurants in the city to talk to me about…wait. What was it you were going to ask me?” She pushed her glasses tighter against her face, making him want to pull them off. The glasses had to go. She had the prettiest green eyes, a bright green that shouldn’t be shrunken behind lenses thick as the bottom of wine bottles.
“I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
The Billionaire's Runaway Fiancé (Invested in Love) Page 5
