Page 94 of What Happens in Dubai

I raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s not a date. It’s a business dinner.’

‘I meant for Ashley! But if that’s what you’re planning. What a filthy mind, Miss Smith.’

My stomach twisted from cringing. ‘I’m not planning anything!’

‘Let’s flag down a taxi,’ I said. ‘We can’t walk to where we’re going.’

I watched him lift an elegant arm into the air and effortlessly hail a taxi. As it pulled into the side of the road, he went to the door and held it open for me.

‘Thank you,’ I said, climbing in.

He got in behind me, and we settled together on the seat.

‘Cut restaurant in Bothwell, please, driver,’ I said, and just like that, we were on our way out of the city centre.

Cut was a delicious steakhouse situated in an affluent town just outside the city. We arrived just before our eight o’clock reservation and stood in the queue to be seated.

‘Good choice, boss,’ Tom said. ‘Very swanky.’

I was glad he approved and smiled back. The restaurant was on Bothwell’s main street, in an enormous sandstone building. The décor was dark and stylish with modern marble tables set against the classic period designs of the old-fashioned building.

‘What would you like to drink tonight? Champagne?’ Tom suggested.

‘Why not!’ I raised the credit card in the air mischievously. ‘I’m buying, remember.’

Tom leaned in towards me, and I felt his warm body press against mine. ‘I like this bossy side to you, Zara. Rarrrrrr.’ He growled into my ear.

Immediately, goosebumps travelled up my arm and I felt my nipples turn hard. I shook them off.

We moved up the line to where the friendly hostess stood, holding menus and a clipboard.

‘Hi, guys, do you have a reservation?’

‘Yes, we—’ Tom began, but I shot him a stare, determined not to allow him to take over.

‘Yes, we do. Table booked for Smith at eight, please.’

‘OK, perfect. Does any of your party have any allergies?’

‘No, we don’t,’ Tom couldn’t help but chip in once more.

I peered up at him again. ‘Actually, I do.’ I cleared my throat and turned back to the hostess. ‘Penicillin.’

She seemed puzzled. ‘Any food allergies, miss?’

I heard Tom choke on a laugh beside me.

‘Well … eh … no, just penicillin, thanks.’

As Tom continued to laugh, my face turned scarlet.

‘Follow me, please,’ the hostess said.

We entered the restaurant and were seated at a small booth near the back.

‘Can I get you guys any drinks?’

Tom held his hand up, gesturing for me to speak.

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