She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not (The American Soldier Collection 8)

“Thank you, you’re very kind. The tour was informative as you intended.”

He waved toward the server standing by, a man dressed as a formal waiter, with a sharp white linen towel draped over his arm. He approached the table and poured two glasses of wine.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of ordering a few of my favorite dishes for you to experience. I’m planning on keeping them in the new menu for my latest chain of restaurants.”

“Of course. I’m sure I will be very happy with your choices.”

“Are you now? Is it because you trust my judgment and taste or are you simply appeasing me?” he asked with an heir of arrogance that had her defensive radar rising.

“Of course not. You may not realize this, Renaldo, but I have very opinionated tastes. It will be amusing to see if you and I share some similar likes.”

“Amusing? I would prefer stimulating,” he countered, holding her gaze and looking her cleavage over with interest. She felt the heat hit her body and wondered how this business dinner meeting was turning into something else. She lowered her eyes and adjusted her napkin on her lap.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I enjoy conversing with you. You’re a realist, but you have the quality of shyness I’m truly attracted to.”

The waiter arrived, thank goodness, with some appetizers. Oysters on the half shell, shrimp scampi, and some stuffed mushrooms, her favorite.

“Oooh, I love stuffed mushrooms,” she stated, inhaling the wonderful scents and aromas.

“One of my favorite as well. Go on, let’s enjoy this.” She placed a mushroom on her plate as Renaldo began to talk about his plans for the restaurants, the décor, and keeping similar aspects of Tratorra’s.

“Might I suggest a very different entryway, and foyer, perhaps even an area where guests wait for the table or can enjoy a cocktail before or after dinner while being enthralled with some of your more outlandish art.”

“Outlandish?” he questioned.

She smiled. “Sorry, I do not mean to insult. Everyone is entitled to their taste in art. However, I would really like to know why you display a million-dollar piece by the reception area? It seems outlandish to me.”

He chuckled. “So the tour was informative?”

“Would you like to go over my findings and ideas to see if I’m the right person for this project?”

He smiled at her, then took a sip of his wine while holding her gaze over the rim of his glass. “I’m hopeful that you fit this project quite well, so you and I can work side by side.”

She smiled as she pulled out her iPad and began to go over what she had seen and some ideas of how to improve the initial ambiance of the restaurant when guests first entered. She went as far as showing him some pictures of general ideas and fine art that wasn’t nearly as costly as the paintings he displayed without a care for their price tag or their effect on the patrons.

“You can truly awe your guests by establishing a gallery for their viewing as they wait. If done in the right way, it could bring in even more patrons and give you the opportunity to enhance other rooms in the restaurant.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, moving closer to view the pictures.

Before long she was sugges

ting theme rooms so that he could get the feel and look he wanted in his choices of the various Venetian arts he insisted on using throughout the place.

When she felt his hand smooth over her knee under the table, she looked up at him.

He held her gaze. “I knew you were right for the job. This is going to be great. How quickly can you start?”

She was shocked at his fast-forward personality.

She closed up the iPad and clasped her hands on top of the table.

“Well, Mr. Sentinel, we’ll need to finalize the contracts with my boss.”

“Already done. I spoke with him ten minutes before you arrived.”

She went to speak and was speechless.

He moved his arm over her chair behind her back and inched closer.