His Southern Sweetheart

The animosity in her voice came in loud and clear. He wanted to hang his head in shame knowing he was the reason she’d lost her job, but she needed to look on the bright side. He’d done her a favor. “The studio is a platform for money and greed.”

Amelia sat back, tight-lipped. Her dark brown eyes glanced up to each corner of the ceiling. The huff of breath blew a stray strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her eyes.

“Are you looking around for cameras?”

“No.” She sighed. “I’m looking around for places I’d put a camera if I wanted to create a show.”

“Habit of yours?” Not sure if he preferred her avoiding eye contact with him or taking the icy glare she gave him now, Nate wiggled his brows.

The bells over the door jingled. The young girl behind the counter shouted out for the new guests to have a seat wherever and let them know someone would be with them in a moment. Meanwhile, the door to the kitchen swung open and a waiter came out with a pizza for another couple. Nate watched Amelia, who’d gone back to observing the restaurant.

“I like to come up with different ideas for shows,” Amelia finally answered him, resting her elbows on the table. Out of habit with Philly, Nate moved Amelia’s glass of soda out of the way. “It relaxes me. How long have you lived with your nieces?”

“About eight months.”

Amelia nodded as if she already knew but tested him. “How old are they?”

“Sixteen and five,” he answered.

“How are they doing?” Amelia spread her fingers flat on the table, almost touching his, but as if she was too afraid to make a move.

Nate half smiled. “They’re fine. Better than I was when I heard the news.”

“It’s so noble of you to take care of them.”

Nate placed his hands over hers again. “I can honestly say they’re the ones taking care of me. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Not really.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I mean, I have bunch of cousins. One is like a sister to me. Cayla, well, we call her Cay. She was with me last night when I...”

“Staked your claim on me?” Nate chuckled. She tried to withdraw her hands but he held on tightly. “Stop pulling away. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But—” Amelia raised her left brow and offered him a challenging smile “—I don’t want to get burned.”

Had they not been in a public place, Nate just might have pushed the salt, red pepper and parmesan cheese shakers to the ground and lifted her onto the table. Hurt her? He wanted to protect her, cherish her and even worship her body. That was not too complicated, right? “Amelia, you’re going to have to learn to trust me. I understand we got off to a rocky start yesterday.”

“Because you set me up?”

Nate nodded. “If you want to view it that way, okay. But despite why I needed to see you, understand I wanted to be with you the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you believe that, Amelia?” Was he pleading with her? When had he started pleading with women? Each second she took to answer caused a notch of strange insecurity in him. “Do you believe you won’t get burned with me?”

“At the moment.” Amelia shook her head back and forth.

Dying to know what she meant, Nate leaned forward. Did she believe he’d burn her? Didn’t she understand how much he wanted to be with her? “Tell me what I need to do to get back in your good graces?”

“What are you talking about?” Amelia yanked her hand away before he could protest. “I’m talking about the pizza.”

“What?” Nate felt his brows furrow.

“Pay attention, the pizza’s here.”

Chapter 6

With the pizza stand between the two of them empty, Amelia sighed at the thought of their evening ending. Tonight was the first time she’d gone out with no one or nothing hounding her, not her work or her past. Nate made an irresistible dining partner. His humor kept her from jumping every time a car passed by the windows or the bell chimed when the door opened. The last thing she wanted to do was be spotted by someone in town. She wanted a smooth in-and-out when it came time to leave.

“You have to have dessert here,” Nate suggested, polishing off the last morsel of pizza crust before wiping his hands on the napkin in his lap.

Unlike most women she knew, Amelia did not act shy when it came to eating in front of a man. The pizza had been layered so beaut

ifully, with fresh mozzarella, paper-thin prosciutto, crispy pepperoni and some of the freshest vegetables around. When their pie arrived, she’d vowed to eat the whole thing, but the buttery parmesan crust had fooled her and she only managed three slices. Dessert seemed out of the question.