‘You could always...’ she began and broke off.
His hand stilled around the ball. ‘I could always?’
‘Well...you could come with me?’
Not another guy, then.
Relief swamped him even as he tried to rationalise it away—it made sense he wouldn’t want her seeing someone else while they were sleeping together. Perfect, rational sense. It didn’t mean anything more.
Since when have you been jealous of anyone though?
‘Daniel?’ It was her turn to bring him back to the call.
‘Would you like me to?’ he asked, parking his unease and focusing on what he wanted in the here and now.
‘Only if you want to. It’s an awards thing. I’m not up for any, the business is too new, but it’s good to show your face among the people in the industry and the reporters.’
‘The reporters?’ So there were going to be press? Did she realise the potential consequences of that, especially after she’d made it clear how she felt about him—no, not him, his public image?
‘Yes, a few.’
‘And you’re okay with that?’
‘If you are.’
‘Excellent.’ He was so frigging relieved she wasn’t going out with another guy, so happy that she was willing to be seen on his arm in public, he’d take anything. And what the hell was that about? The question erupting again and coming far too frequently of late. ‘It’s a date, then.’
‘A date,’ she said softly.
He bit into his bottom lip, a weird excitement rippling in his blood. ‘See you Friday.’
‘Friday.’
‘Bye.’
‘Bye.’
Hang the damn phone up.
‘Looking forward to it.’
‘Me too. Goodbye, Daniel.’
She cut him off and he lowered the phone from his ear, staring at it as if it were the crazy thing. Not him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ZARA SCANNED THE road outside her office and smoothed out her dress for the umpteenth time, her tummy fluttering with anticipation, nerves, excitement, the works...
He was due to collect her any minute, Peters doing the driving as per his usual request. But now she wasn’t sure whether it was because of the higher class of vehicle or because he wanted the freedom to fully enjoy the ride. Either way, she wasn’t complaining.
She’d seen him Monday, Tuesday, spoken to him Wednesday and yet she felt as if she’d been starved of his presence. She’d even left her phone on charge in the living room the previous night to avoid texting him from bed. Her inability to get him out of her head, particularly when she got beneath her quilt, making the temptation too much. And she didn’t want to appear needy, the fear of sending him running never quitting.
But you are needy...permanently.
She let out a shaky breath, a familiar sense of panic welling. She knew it wasn’t a good sign, that she was getting in too deep.
He was still the Swedish billionaire and sworn bachelor that no w