Page 314 of In Love with a Cruel Billionaire

But it was not the same.

Her

DIANA KNEW SHE WASnoton a date.

She only wished she could let the others understand this, too.

The others being students who also went to Helder Meer and happened to be at the same French restaurant downtown where Magnolia's British half-brother was treating her dinner at. All of them had gawked at Ryder, whose black hair lent an exotic slant to his patrician looks, before glancing at Diana with either confusion or envy.

Some, Diana noticed, looked at her with both, plus a little bit of resentment, too.

She was used to such reactions (just one of the many hazards of being Damen's little sister), and she would normally be indifferent. Tonight, however, exasperated her. Didnobodynotice the fact he was wearing a clergy's shirt, with the initials of his church even monogrammed on his breast pocket?

He was a deacon, for heaven's sake. Did they really think herthatdesperate, to make her moves on a man of the cloth?

Having also noticed the dirty looks coming from the female patrons at the table next to them, Magnolia's sibling could only grimace in apology, saying, "I am sorry for this, child."

Since Ryder was only a couple years older, the gravely spoken words were exactly what Diana needed to hear. She burst into laughter, tension easing from her form as his levity helped her see the humor in things.

"Maybe I should play it up," Diana joked under her breath, "just to make things worth their while."

"By all means." Ryder was genuinely supportive. While even he recognized how melancholy made her looks rather unearthly in its beauty, he would rather see her a little uglier and happier.

Which, of course, led the concerned deacon to the question of...

"What's wrong?"

Diana bit back a smile at Ryder's frankness. "You're supposed to start the conversation with something about the weather. You're British, remember?"

"I also have a red-eye flight to catch," he reminded her. "So if we could just pretend we've done our customary thirty-minute bush-beating..." He raised a brow. "Well?"

Diana tried not to squirm under the deacon's piercing stare. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," he retorted, "if Magnolia insisted that I force you to submit to Confession."

"Shewhat?" Diana didn't know whether to feel aghast, amused, or offended.

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