Page 60 of Fool's Gold

“I’m flattered.” Jacob’s voice rumbles through me, and the sensation is not unpleasant. “And appreciative.”

I’m not sure why he wants to spend time with me. Then my memory snags on a word. Scripts. He wants to talk business.

It makes agreeing to a meet up a little easier to swallow and the pressure in my chest a bit easier to bear.

Our shooting schedule for Friday gives me a small break around midafternoon because most of the scenes involve Greg and not me. Since he’s semi back in action, it makes sense.

I can’t be away for more than a couple of hours, and rather than taking the driver Marcus hired, I sneak off set in an Uber.

There’s a thrill bubbling in my blood.

Does a date automatically get better if it’s covert? Illicit?

I prattle off the address to the driver, reminding him where we’re going, my knee bobbing up and down once more. Why the eff should I be nervous?

It’s just a date. There’s literally no reason for me to check my reflection in the window, fluffing my hair, only to tamp it down again. I run a hand down my blouse, pushing up the girls, groaning, and drawing my shirt up to cover the display.

Nervous?

An understatement.

The coffee place is one I’ve been to before, one I know where to go and where to park. This time of day, the streets are packed, lined with cars. People need their caffeine fix, and none of them bat an eye at me when I hop out of the Uber.

Jacob, on the other hand, draws a crowd.

He meets me outside the door with two burly bodyguards in tow, and his smile lights up the street when he sees me coming toward him.

“You look stunning, Empire.” He leans down for a swift hug, his fingers brushing the hem of my emerald-green tank top.

“Thanks,” I murmur. “So do you.”

Shit, do I have to be so awkward?

“I mean, not stunning. You look good. Better than good.” I fumble, still not making any sense.

Rather than looking at me sideways, Jacob laughs, and his bodyguards open the door for us. “I’m taking it as a huge compliment.”

His blue-tone shirt brings out the colors of his eyes, and his hair is pristine, styled in such a way that no single hair moves out of place despite the breeze. Several women suck in a breath when we get inside, and one even squeals in delight.

His presence causes a wave of attention to ripple out from us.

But Jacob’s attention remains on me. He goes so far as to pull out a seat for me, the table hidden behind a row of plants.

“I came here a month ago, I think. With River.”

“She’s the one who recommended it. Said the staff is really nice and the drinks are delicious. I hope you don’t mind. I got here a little early and took the liberty of ordering.”

Right on time, the server places two drinks in front of us, both with matching designs in the foam on the top.

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“River said you loved lattes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I appreciate it.” The first sip has me grimacing.

Jacob notices immediately. “What’s the matter?”

The matter? Whole milk instead of almond. I wave him away even though the thought of dairy twists my stomach in preparation for the worst—something I definitely don’t want to endure in front of someone like Jacob.

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