Secret Date

by Victoria Pinder

  The valet was already bringing his car and he motioned for Natalie to join him. “Please call me Galen tonight. We can take my car. I’ll drop you off once we finish.”

  She gritted her teeth but nodded. “Sounds fair, Galen.”

  He held her door for her and she hopped inside. He tipped the valet and took the driver’s seat of his black Infiniti QX80 and winked at Natalie. “See, that’s a good start.”

  She piled her bags between them and stayed near the door. “Where are we going?”

  Right. This was work and not a date. Clearly last night had left a sour taste of loneliness in his mouth—he had to focus on the fact Natalie was a business associate and nothing more. Images of her removing the wig needed to stop replaying in his mind like a striptease as he drove down the street. “Le Provençal Restaurant. French food feels like home and I’ve had a long day.”

  “I see.” She dug out her phone from a giant black purse and sent off a text. Galen drove the short distance to the restaurant, valet parked, and came around to open her passenger door. She slipped her phone in her bag and followed him.

  “Sorry, girl squad texted. I just needed to tell my friend I was safe and fine for dinner.”

  “Smart.” They entered the dimly lit restaurant and Galen told the hostess he wanted a table for two.

  A waitress brought them to a quiet, romantic nook circled completely in pink roses. He held his tongue and reminded himself not to have a crush on Natalie. Just because she was beautiful, he shouldn’t want to touch her. He held her seat for her and she asked, “What happened that you need comfort food?”

  Galen sat opposite her and ignored how her blonde hair glistened in the candlelight. Crystal goblets held ice water and he took a drink. “The clinic was part two of my day, to be honest.”

  “There was more for you?” She sipped daintily from her glass and leaned closer, curious. “What happened first?”

  He didn’t want to confess to her about Jennifer—but she hadn’t asked, specifically. Part of his conscience whispered he should tell her that he was a horrible choice in all capacities. He ordered a bottle of a decent ugni blanc and met Natalie’s gaze. “My brother Damien and his wife got married yesterday.”

  She adjusted her cross around her neck, the gold flashing against the black fabric of her collar. “I remember. He wasn’t supposed to be at the office for a few weeks, so we were all surprised to see him this afternoon.”

  He brought his chair closer to hers. “Well, this morning his new wife was kidnapped. I helped get her back.”

  “Kidnapped.” She repeated in a high tone but settled down as the waitress poured them both a glass of dry white wine. Once the waitress left, Natalie said, “So that’s where you got that cut on your cheek?”

  His finger brushed the rough scrape as he nodded. “There was a fight.” He shrugged, happy that it had all worked out in the end.

  She picked up her wine glass. “Well, I’m glad you are all okay.”

  She sounded to Galen as if she cared. “I probably shouldn’t have ordered wine for you, if you’re pregnant.”

  Her fingers circled the wine glass like she needed to protect it from being stolen. She looked at the flickering candle flame. “I don’t want to think about that. And besides, my period ended two days ago. It’s a pretty low percentage as I’m not in the middle of my cycle or anything.”

  This wasn’t a conversation he’d ever imagined having with Natalie, whom until this morning, he’d considered frumpy. They’d mostly talked about sharing the printer. Her fresh face and glowing skin now fascinated him—though knowing her fertility schedule was almost too much. Still, if she was pregnant then drinking was bad form. He pressed his lips together as she sipped rather than admonishing her—as she said, there was a very minute chance she was pregnant anyhow.

  “So how did you end up at the doctor’s?”

  He savored the dry white wine. “I was there with Peter, after I tipped him off about Jennifer’s plans.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

  His collar felt hot and he looked down into the wine glass. “Jennifer and I had a small encounter at the wedding.”

  Natalie pushed her hair behind her ear and nodded without judgment. “Ah well, she’s beautiful—her dress this morning was amazing. Did she wear white to a wedding where she wasn’t the bride?” Galen remembered the way Jennifer had turned getting dressed into a seduction. No, Natalie didn’t understand. Not really. He cleared his throat. “No, she changed her clothes.”

  “Oh.” Natalie changed the subject and tapped the menu. “I’ve never really had French food. It’s not a regular option.”

  Good. Their conversation about Jennifer was over. Galen shrugged. French cuisine always made him feel better. “I grew up in Paris and then settled in New Orleans for a while.”

  Her lips parted as her eyes glazed over. “Paris must have been beautiful.”

  From her far-away look, he’d guess she hadn’t traveled much. He reached across the table and gently patted her hand. “It was. Do you want me to make suggestions for what to order?”

  “Sure.” She didn’t take her hand back and batted her pretty blue eyes his way in thanks.

  His fingers buzzed from touching her, so he slipped his hand back and studied the menu. He glanced up and noticed the sparkling glow of her skin, though he knew he imagined it. He stared at the menu again. “And for the record, this restaurant is okay with the food. In Paris, the choices are better.”

  She nodded and rested her chin on her fingers. “I’ll remember that.”

  He imagined showing her Paris but then smashed the idea—he was Natalie’s boss and needed to take charge of this awful situation. No woman had gotten to him in years, and he preferred his heart empty of commitment because it was safe. He read the dinner options and said, “I’d recommend the sautéed mushroom Provençal, salads are obvious and they make a pretty good coq au vin chicken here, and we can pair it with this bottle of wine.”

  She folded her menu as the waitress returned. “That sounds good. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “One minute.” He ordered their food. Once the waitress left, he sipped his wine and smiled at her. Natalie was sweet to look at without makeup or artifice. He shifted in his seat. “Okay, Natalie. I wanted to make sure you understand I’m in your corner when it comes to whatever you decide to do next and I won’t pressure you. But my brother is worried his possible child won’t be raised in the House of Morgan.”

  “That shouldn’t matter.”

  “My brother and his wife want a child—if you are pregnant then they have offered to pay you a surrogate fee to carry the child.”

  “No. Any child of mine is not for sale.” She lifted her chin with determination. “I called my doctor after you told me what happened and she believes that there is no actual chance of the pregnancy taking because of when I had my period. She offered the day after pill, but I said no.”

  “Why?”

  “I am not pregnant. I don’t have time to be pregnant. But because of religious reasons, I won’t take the day after pill.”

  His jaw ticked like it did when he needed to make a decision but he simply said, “I’ll let Peter know.”

  “Okay.” She lifted her hand as if she had bigger issues. “I can’t even think about that possibility right now—and we won’t know for weeks. I still don’t believe it now that the shock has worn off. Trust me, I have other things on my mind that need to be taken care of.”

  Now it was his turn to learn and listen. He leaned forward in his chair. “Like what?”

  She sipped her wine and briefly closed her eyes. When she reopened them, her blue-green orbs were filled with pain. “Like my mother’s cancer treatments.”

  Ouch. His mother had pretended to be sick for a while, which still annoyed him because he’d been worried for her. Galen put his glass down and reached across the table. “Your mom has cancer?”

  She acc
epted his hand and squeezed. “Yes, I go visit her most nights and weekends to cheer her up.”

  No wonder she hadn’t processed the enormity of her situation with Peter Morgan and the clinic. “I had no idea.”

  She shrugged. “Why would you? It’s not like we talk about anything other than work at the office.”

  Right. The last thing Natalie needed was additional stress and it sounded like she had a lot already. Her hand in his sent a spark through him that he tamped down. “Please forward any medical bills to me immediately when it concerns your mother. You shouldn’t have to worry about anything financial.”

  She slipped her hand back and covered her lips. “I can’t let you do that.”

  His gaze narrowed. This wasn’t because of whatever he felt that was clearly one-sided. He sat straighter. “Why not? Let me check with HR about a different insurance package for you and your family—consider it a job benefit.”

  Her lips pressed together like she was formulating a report at work, but then she shook her head. “There are some exceptionally expensive options-”

  The need to protect Natalie rushed through him like a natural pulse in his veins. “Do whatever you think is best to care for your mother.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she continued to shake her head. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I would do this for any employee of mine.” If he’d known about it, but she’d kept her troubles away from work.

  A single drop rolled down her cheek.

  Tears were never good from any woman, and his stomach churned. Time to change the conversation. He shifted in his seat and held her gaze. “I think the more important question of the day is why you felt it necessary to wear a wig and horrible old lady clothes at the office.”

  She put her elbow on the table and stared at the candle between them. Was she trying to avoid his questions? At last she said, “I needed a job and word on the street is you don’t hire women my age.”

  “What?” He picked up his wine glass again. His reputation was now anti-woman? Sure, he’d kept a professional distance, but sexism could get his business in unnecessary hot water.

  Natalie dug a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. “I am the only woman in the office, other than your sixty-year-old secretary.”

  Galen felt he needed to justify this, now, to Natalie. “It’s a small office of five and we go on construction sites. The office in New Orleans is a much larger and more diverse group.”

  She flipped her sleek blonde hair and said, like a Miami girl, “Irregardless, I wanted a job with good benefits and you were hiring—if I had to wear a wig, so be it.”

  He leaned closer and could smell her soap that reminded him of outside on a spring day. “You don’t have to anymore.”

  She put her tissue in a side pocket of her bag without looking at him. “Here comes the food.”

  Natalie confused him. He kept silent while the server set the table, but he needed to talk to her more, to get to know her for Peter’s sake. It had nothing to do with how his skin felt alive and aware of her every move. Good girls were always trouble and Natalie could be the cheer captain of the good girl team. Alison had taught him well.

  Natalie stared into the dark brown eyes of Galen Morgan and couldn’t stop. Sure, she’d always had a crush, but he’d been far out of her reach. His voice made her insides quiver, added to that sexy, hot and muscular body, well he fueled her dreams late at night. Now he was across the dinner table and her heart ached for his touch, his scent, his anything, as long as he stayed near.

  She turned toward the candle which helped focus her mind and lowered her lashes. “Galen, thank you for helping with my mother’s medical bills.”

  He sipped his wine and smiled like he’d just won his latest real estate deal. “I’m glad that you are allowing me to be of assistance.”

  Her shoulders lifted with relief. Without worrying over the bills, she could focus on her dad’s mental health. As an only child, both parents were her responsibility now. “I can’t afford to say no, honestly. It’s generous.”

  She clutched her gold cross and met his gaze. Galen Morgan was a decent and good human being underneath that sexy exterior. She’d known that for months, but it hit home now.

  She brushed the back of his hand with her fingertip.

  His face froze. She’d guess stricken was the right way to interpret his expression.

  Would he take her hand? Realize that she wanted him to kiss her? She waited for his response. Finally he said, “Natalie, you’re my employee.”

  Right, but the way her pulse zipped, there was no way she thought of him as her boss like she did at work. He’d always been this far away dream, but now candlelight sparkled in his dark hues. She ignored the rise of heat in her face. “Not right now. We’re off the clock.”

  “I can’t forget the line.”

  He’d invited her to dinner—she’d watched him bank his attraction to her. Her heart pounded in her chest. Maybe it was the wine or that he’d just been the most generous man she’d ever talked to, but her lips tingled as she confessed to the burning candle. “I’d like for our relationship to grow. You’re kinder than I expected and I know from this past year that I already get along with you.”

  He scoffed and picked up a fork. “Kind is not a word used to describe me. My ex would probably say jerk as one of the nicer terms.”

  No. She stilled, but he wasn’t a jerk. She saw him every day.

  They ate their appetizer, a creamy bisque soup, but her hunger pains weren’t for the food they shared. Once the waiter brought their main dish—coq au vin, which was basically chicken and mushroom made in red wine—and left, Natalie asked the question that had bothered her for a year about her boss that she’d never dared ask. “When did you get married? I’ve always wondered how that ever fit into your busy schedule.”

  He shrugged and rearranged the napkin on his lap. “I was twenty-one and thought I was in love with that redhead.”

  Alison Evermore was a redhead then. After too much wine a few months ago, Natalie might have online stalked the woman touring Tibet on her social media and wondered if the mountain climber was the ex. Natalie picked up her fork to try the meat. “That’s awfully young, considering you finished college at twenty-two.” Her heart sped up and she hoped he didn’t catch her slip. She added quickly, “I read your resume.” Her leg trembled. She looked at her dinner and asked, “When did you get divorced?”

  “When I was twenty-six.” He bit into a roasted carrot.

  Right. She took a few deep breaths, picked up her fork but said in a quiet tone, “The same year you made your first billion-dollar building deal.”

  He coughed and wiped his mouth before he nodded. “You have studied me.”

  “Of course. I wanted to work for you last year and your resume is out there.” Natalie concentrated on finishing her dinner and once she’d had enough, she covered the rest with her napkin and picked up her wine. Hopefully he believed her interest had only been about business. She held his gaze. “But I could never figure out when you had time to get married and divorced. Why did you get married so young?”

  He leaned forward like they were sharing a secret. “Because my father disapproved of Alison, or at least of me marrying someone with money and connection.”

  “With money and connections? Not without?”

  “I was born on the wrong side of the blanket. My mother wasn’t good enough to marry my dad so I wasn’t supposed to even look at certain women in society where their parents might mingle with the legitimate House of Morgan members.”

  Wow. She’d heard rumors about the elder father in the House of Morgan, but she never paid it much attention. Natalie pressed her lips together. “And what would your father say about me?”

  Galen gave a bitter laugh. “He’d have had your entire history on his desk before he made that call.”

  “We were never rich. My parents are still married, own a house together and raised me. I don’t think we
have many connections.”

  “Without money and connections, he might have approved of you for me. When I was twenty, that alone would have sent me running in the other direction.”

  Not much to see. Natalie was the only daughter of working-class parents. Her father owned a grocery store. Her mother was a police officer. She’d gone to college and studied business, but had no real ambitions beyond that and then her mom became sick. She could sum up her entire life just that fast. However, none of that was newsworthy.

  “What about you?”

  My parents would respect my date choice, though honestly they were never that warm to many of them.”

  He refilled their glasses from the bottle on the table. “So you brought guys home unworthy of you.”

  Three in total, unless her prom date counted, but he’d just been a friend. Sam, the musician, sprang to mind as the biggest wrong she’d liked, but she said, “They were all interesting in their own way.”

  He handed her glass back to her. “Interesting doesn’t mean worthy.”

  His fingers around the stem of her glass had her crossing her legs. It wasn’t fair to have a crush, be outed as herself and not live out the rest of her fantasy as Galen’s lover. She stared into the wine and asked, “Galen, if we didn’t know each other from work, would we even be here now?”

  He scooted near her while the table was cleared. Once they were alone, he asked, “How would we have met then?”

  Fantasy time. If she could meet Galen outside of work, where would she choose? Her mind went blank and she couldn’t come up with anything besides the office—or the clinic, which didn’t lead to fantasies. She moved closer to him and this time sensed his body heat which skyrocketed her own temperature. “I don’t know. Perhaps here, at this restaurant.”

  Galen reached out and rested his arms beside her as his smoldering gaze melted any defenses she might have near him. “If I saw you tonight for the first time, I’d have gotten over my “no good girl” rule and talked to you.”

  Her ears buzzed as her lips ached for him, though she knew they were an impossibility. She stared at his mouth and wished for things to be different. “Wait. No good girl rule? What’s that?”