She raised her eyebrows. “You’re just going to get him all excited. Once he gets a taste, he’ll text you every day. He might even start sexting you.”
My nerves started to thrum. “Ugh, don’t make me nervous—you know I don’t even know what that word means!”
My sister’s face softened. She knew that between the two of us, she was the worldly and sophisticated one with the boyfriends and the trendy clothes, and I was the bookworm with neither. And that was the way I preferred it. “Aw, don’t be nervous. You’re going to be fine. I only met him once, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He’s not as hot as Gabriel—hey, how did lunch go, anyway?”
I shrugged. “It was fine. He wants us to partner with his company for international distribution.”
Hannah’s eyes glimmered with excitement. “That’d be great, right?”
I shrugged again. “I have to present it to the board. I have a feeling they’re going to say yes.”
“So, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I lied.
“You suck at lying.” She put her hands on her hips. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I sighed, deflating. “I just don’t know if I can trust him.”
Hannah nodded as if she understood. She was the person in the world who knew me best, so she probably did. “But you don’t have to trust everything about him. You just have to trust that he’ll perform his side of the contract. He’s probably capable of that, right?”
“Probably.”
“Then it’ll be okay. Plus, maybe he’ll bring his hunky self around the lab every once in a while. That wouldn’t suck!”
I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t doing much for my nerves right now.”
She looked me up and down and sighed. “This probably isn’t going to make your nerves any better, but is that what you’re wearing to dinner?”
I wore a simple white sweater and black skirt, which I had paired with black tights and flats. “Yes.”
“That,” she said, pointing up and down at my outfit, “is the opposite of sexy.”
I crossed my arms against my chest. “That’s fine with me. I wasn’t going for sexy.”
Hannah groaned. “Where is Clive taking you?”
“Some steakhouse.”
She looked incredulous. “Doesn’t he know you don’t eat meat?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t feel it was necessary to burden him with personal information about me.” Hannah groaned again as I looked back at the clock. “I have to go. The driver’s probably already out front with security.”
Hannah stalked back to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. “I’ll be holding a vigil, waiting for you. I have my cell phone, and I have wine. You call me if you need anything.”
I collected my coat and headed for the door. “Got it.”
“Hey,” Hannah called from the island. “Try to have fun. It won’t kill you. I promise!”
“It just might,” I muttered to myself as I went through the door.
The pretty hostess nodded at me. “Ms. Taylor? Mr. Warren’s already waiting for you at your table.”
I had a vague sense of déjà vu. The fact that this was happening to me twice in one week was nothing short of miraculous. Two different men, two different restaurants. It was an all-time personal record for me.
I spotted Clive, resplendent in a dark suit, before he saw me. He looked handsome and meticulously groomed, his dark hair gelled carefully, his tortoiseshell glasses immaculate. He even had a dark purple cloth in his pocket, which seemed a bit prissy, but what the hell did I know?
“Lauren!” He jumped to his feet and hugged me warmly. “So glad you could make it.”