Page 152 of Worth Every Penny

I push the thought away as hard as I can, locking it up. Otherwise I’ll be weeping at the table.

I take my seat and a moment later a server appears and clears away the place setting opposite me. Great. Now there’s not even a pretense that anyone else is coming. My aloneness is exposed for all to see.

“Would you like to see the wine menu?” asks a smartly dressed sommelier who has appeared at the side of my table as stealthily as a ghost.

“No. But I’ll take a bottle of your best Sauvignon.”

He clutches the wine menu to his chest like a shield, and the slight widening of his eyes is the only judgment he offers.

Yes, I’m alone. Yes, I mean to drink the entire bottle myself. Is it a good idea? No. Do I care? Also no.

“Wait,” I say. “How much is your best Sauvignon?”

His eyebrows rise fully now, and when he speaks, his voice is little more than a whisper. “Three hundred and forty-five dollars, Ma’am.”

I bite back the gasp. I might have a horde of cash in my bank account, but spending freely is a habit I’ll have to learn. That sounds like a big number for a bottle of wine and this trip has already cost a small fortune. Perhaps I ought not splurge on an entire bottle if all I’ll have to show for it is a hangover.

“Let’s go for something mid-range,” I say. “And maybe just a glass, for now.” I give him the most dazzling smile I can manage in my exhausted state, and he responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own, giving me a little bow before he departs.

Alone again at the table, I lament that I haven’t brought a book. I can’t sit here looking at my phone for the entire time. I ought to have ordered room service.

I scan the menu. There are typical dishes, like a high end burger with truffle sauce and parmesan potatoes, or something simpler like tagliatelle with a wild boar ragu.

“I hear the seabass is excellent.”

I still at the sound of that deep, sensuous voice. I’d know it anywhere. But here, now? I’m hallucinating. Must be.

Finally, I look up.

Definitely not hallucinating.

Nico Hawkston is standing on the other side of my table, the streetlights from the window behind casting a golden glow over his skin. His square jaw is tight, and the intensity in his dark eyes is like stepping into a blazing fire; my body is kindling beneath its glare.

He’s still wearing full black tie, and here I am in a casual summer dress.He’s devastating in a tux. The bow tie at his neck is undone and it drapes around his collar, hanging loose. The top two buttons of his shirt are open, revealing that familiar triangle of skin that begs to be touched… or kissed.

He rubs a hand over the dark scruff that covers his jaw. It suits him, making him look a little more dangerous than normal.

“You’re here,” I whisper.

A beat passes before he answers. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

The words warm my chest like he’s placed his palms against my breasts, and the strain around my heart eases just a smidge. I fiddle with my fork, straightening it unnecessarily on the tablecloth. “You’re ambushing me again.”

Amusement dances in his eyes. “And turning up at my office an ocean away isn’t an ambush?”

“No. That was war.”

He huffs out a raw burst of laughter. “Assuming this is an ambush, is it unwelcome?”

My gaze snags on his lips as he speaks, and I’m assaulted by memories of them moving over my body; my neck, my breasts, my thighs… the innermost part of me that already knows the answer to his question.

Not unwelcome at all.

He lifts a brow, inviting my verdict. His large hand rests on the back of the empty chair opposite me, but he doesn’t pull it back or indicate that he intends to sit. For a few seconds neither of us moves, then Nico cants his head, alerting me to the presence of a server hovering nearby. Her upper body tilts forwards as she looks between us, but her feet stay firmly planted further from the table than looks comfortable. She must sense the tension, too. “Should I bring an extra place setting?”

A subtle alteration in the angle of Nico’s chin communicates that he’s deferring the decision to me.

I wait, letting him worry for a moment. Not that he looks worriedat all. He’s all cool poise and confidence. Only a tiny flicker of his eyelids reveals that he’s remotely concerned about my answer.

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