eserved for guests requesting something “special.” It would be very wrong of them to monopolize the table when there was likely a paying guest waiting for it.
She sipped her drink and waited. By ten past six her toe had joined her nails, tapping with impatience. Only to stop abruptly when he stepped in the room.
God, he was beautiful. She could admit it when he was a room away from her and they weren’t embroiled in business. He was safe there. Safe and devastatingly sexy in black trousers and a black shirt. She shook her head, sighing. It was one of those tailored shirts that was meant to be untucked, emphasizing his narrow waist and moving up to broad shoulders. One hand slid casually into his pocket in a gesture she somehow already knew intimately. He said something to the hostess at the front, and the two of them laughed.
Luca Fiori was every woman’s dream. Everyone’s but hers. Dreams like that simply didn’t last. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the package. It was a lovely package. And for a very quick moment, she wished. Wishing wasn’t a luxury she afforded herself. But looking at Luca, with his bronzed skin and free smile, she wished she knew how to be that free. To be able to accept, and to give.
He approached the table with an easy stride. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got caught up in e-mails my father sent and lost track of time.”
She pursed her lips, determined not to let him off easily, but he leaned over and pressed an informal kiss of greeting to her cheek.
She froze.
Seemingly unaware of her reaction, Luca took the chair across from her. “You look beautiful. Have you ordered?”
Beautiful? Her? She’d gone home to change and feed Tommy and then he’d drooled over the front of her outfit, causing a wardrobe change. Gone was the tailored charcoal trouser suit she’d picked and in its place was her generic little black dress—simply cut, black velvet with long fitted sleeves and with a hem ending just above the knee.
It wasn’t as businesslike as she’d have preferred, but it worked and while classy there wasn’t much sexy about it. It seemed compliments rolled off his tongue as easily as assurances.
“Thank you, and no, I was enjoying a drink and the music.” Mari struggled to make her voice sound less strangled than she felt.
A recent jazz cd played over the speakers. She hadn’t paid it a whit of attention but needed to cover. It was becoming clear that Luca was a toucher. He was comfortable with easy, physical gestures like polite kisses and hand clasps. It should help, knowing they were impersonal, but Mari knew she could never be that tactile with people. It was simply too difficult. Yet to explain was unthinkable. She’d just have to muddle through.
“I ordered us some wine on the way in. I’m looking forward to tasting something more local.”
Brenda came back with a bottle and moved to uncork it, but Luca took it from her hands. “Thank you, Brenda, but I can do this.”
Mari looked at him, tilting her head as he applied the corkscrew to the bottle. He was new, and likely jet-lagged, but he’d remembered Brenda’s name. She couldn’t help but be impressed. It showed an attention to detail that surprised her, and people didn’t often surprise her.
He pulled out the cork with a minimum of fuss and put the bottle down briefly. “You haven’t said anything.”
“I’m waiting to get to the business portion of the meal.”
She set her lips and looked him dead in the eye. A deal was a deal. As long as he kept it about The Cascade, they’d have no problems.
He chuckled as he poured wine into two glasses. “Single minded. I like that. It means you’re focused, driven.”
“A compliment.”
“Perhaps. I’m reserving judgment. Waiting to see if you’re also rigid, stubborn, and always need to be right.”
Mari grabbed her tonic water as her face flamed. Of all the nerve!
“I don’t apologize for being organized or efficient.”
“Nor should you. They’re admirable qualities.”
Mari looked out the window and away from him. She’d never met a man like him. She couldn’t quite pin him down and that threw her off balance. Normally she could typecast a person within moments of meeting. She put them in a file in her mind and dealt with them accordingly.
But not Luca. There was something different about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. He was very modern with his carefully messed hair, the way he left his collar open so that Mari was treated to a tempting glimpse of the tanned hollow of his throat. As he lifted his glass, she spied a ring on his right hand—plain, not ostentatious at all. It almost looked antique. In the centre of the flat gold oval was the imprint of a lily. The same imprint that she recognized from the company logo. It was the only jewelry he wore. His entire demeanor suggested playboy, but there was something more.
“Let’s order,” he suggested, his voice drawing her eyes away from the ring. “We’ll talk about the food and brainstorm about what The Cascade will become.”
He flipped open his menu, skimmed it and shut it again.
“Just like that?”
“Absolutely.”