“Impressive. It’s a little overkill for lunch, isn’t it?”
“Of course not.” He led her deeper into the restaurant, the lighting dimming as they moved away from the large front windows. They were immediately escorted to their table without him needing to mention his name. A candle burned on the table, flickering as they took their seats across from each other.
It definitely felt more like a date than a business lunch, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“So…” Rose fiddled with the buttons on her blouse, distracting him.
“So…”
“How’s your nephew doing? Elliot, right?”
“Same little nightmare,” he said.
“Do you see him often?”
“Not too much. I stop over when I can.” His sister always pestered him to come for dinner, but he rarely obliged her. He used money rather than his presence—he was becoming his father. It was the last thing he wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his familiar schedule. Work kept him busy, kept his mind from wandering. What he needed was his own fucking life without living vicariously through his sister and nephew. He hoped it wasn’t too late for him to have a woman and kids of his own.
“And what I don’t understand is how a woman without children can be so damn good with them.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just doing the exact opposite of everything I’ve experienced. Can’t go wrong that way, right?”
“You make lemonade out of lemons. That’s what I love about you.”
When he said the word love, she looked up from her fidgeting and made direct eye contact with him. It was brief but intense. Was he being highly inappropriate or did she feel the same connection as he did?
“Feeling sorry for myself doesn’t do much good.”
The waitress approached them, passing out menus and telling them about the specials. He couldn’t stop watching Rose the entire time—the smooth line of her neck, flawless mocha skin, and the most luscious lips he’d ever seen. She was strikingly gorgeous, and the only thought that kept filling his head was how much he wanted to own her, claim her.
He glanced down at his menu, then back at her once they were alone. “Please don’t tell me you’re a salad and water girl.”
She smirked. “Do I look like a salad and water girl?”
“No, you don’t.” He meant it as a compliment, but she appeared disappointed. That wasn’t his intention. He’d never trade those sexy curves for anything. “Real men aren’t after cover girls. They want a real woman.”
“Does that include women who have to shop at specialty stores?” She looked down at her barely contained chest, and it made his cock stir.
He leaned closer. “What kind of asshole doesn’t want a woman with tits like yours?”
She swallowed hard, then parted her lips. Her eyes appeared glazed over, not narrowed in insult.
“I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. Pretend I never said anything,” he said.
“It’s okay. I always assume the worst from men. I guess that’s why I’m twenty-nine and still a virgin.” She looked over her menu, following the words with a finger like she hadn’t just dropped that bombshell.
Now his cock was fucking oak, making him shift in his seat. Knowing she was a virgin just made her all the more appealing. She could potentially be his, only his. He wanted to whisk her away to his condo and fuck her all night long. The prospect made him feel more animal than man, and he had to remember to keep professional.
The best course of action was to talk business, to distract his wayward thoughts. “We’re putting together a small council of about eight team members to discuss the Rancourt account next week. I want you there with me taking notes. It’s an important account, and it’s imperative we get things right the first time.”
“Of course. Anywhere you need me, I’ll be there.”
He wanted her straddling his lap, but that was another story.
“Their company exec can be a pain in the ass, so the better prepared we are, the better our chances of signing the deal.”
“I’ll do some digging, see if I can find anything he likes. Sucking up can only get us bonus points, right?”
“Sure.”
They made their order, then had the longest stretch of awkward silence.
“I’m curious,” he said. “Did you do any research on me?”
A flirty quality twinkled in her eyes. “Why? Does that make you nervous, Mr. Blackwood?”
“That depends on what you found.” He smirked. “I can’t even imagine how many skeletons you managed to dig up.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your past. I try to forget my own so why would I bother to delve into yours?”
“That’s fair.”
He was still keeping on the brakes, worried if she thought he was too old, too unattractive, or not her type. Darius kept his body in peak shape, working out in his home gym at least five days a week. But she was still seventeen years younger than him, almost a lifetime.