Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales 1)

Laughing lightly at that, she took the flowers and set them on the empty table next to them without smelling them. She was well aware what roses smelled like, and they made her sneeze. She preferred snowbells. “Pretty flowers. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She smiled, not saying anything else.

His forehead scrunched, and he scratched his head.

He seemed confused, and she almost felt sorry for him. He obviously couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t swooning at his feet. But the risk outweighed the reward, and she couldn’t afford to be an idiot over her boss’s dreamy eyes. Her job was too important. Her parents counted on her to help them, and her rent had to be paid, and poor Lucifer needed that vet appointment.

So he could turn those sexy eyes elsewhere.

He poured a full glass of wine, and held it out to her. Their fingers brushed on the hand off, and the skin on skin contact sent her pulse soaring and her mind racing back to that kiss for the millionth time. Seemingly unaware of her reaction to him, he settled in to pour his own glass. Before he’d even finished, she’d taken a big gulp. It tasted awful.

It might be their best bottle of white, but it still tasted like butt.

She must have made a face, because he sighed and set the bottle down. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tinged with slight annoyance.

“Nothing.” She folded her hands in her lap and smiled, trying to ignore all the unsettled feelings swirling in the pit of her stomach. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re acting strange.”

Did that mean she wasn’t acting like the million other women he’d practiced his way too smooth moves on? “Lucky for you, this date is all for show, and you don’t need to worry about what I’m thinking.”

He downed some of his wine and tugged on his tie. The waiter came in carrying salads—wait, they hadn’t even ordered anything—and set them in front of them. She took the opportunity to check him out since he was talking to the waiter.

He, of course, was as devilishly hot as always.

Benjamin—not the waiter.

He wore a black suit, a light blue shirt, and a gray-and-blue striped tie. He seemed to like stripes—probably because they were even and never out of place. His jacket hugged his body perfectly, since it had clearly been custom made for him. Guys like him didn’t buy off the rack. That would never change. He came across as every inch the gentleman accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle…

While she felt like a little kid playing dress up, hoping her mother wouldn’t come in and catch her wearing her favorite pearls before she could put them back where they belonged. And that was something that would never change, either.

Their two worlds just didn’t make sense when put together.

The waiter bowed and left without even speaking to Maggie, or leaving a menu behind for them to read. She glanced down at her salad. It had blue cheese dressing on it.

Moldy cheese. Yum.

She pushed it away and set her hands back in her lap, linking her fingers together. “When will they bring the menus?”

“I already ordered us both their finest,” he answered dismissively, looking devishly handsome as he picked up his fork. How the man managed to make a freaking fork look sexy? She had no idea. But he did. “They’ll bring the courses in when we’re ready for them.”

Oh. My. God. He really had this whole thing down pat.

“Excellent,” she said drily. “Can’t wait to see what I’m eating tonight.”

He set his fork down and sighed again. “You’re displeased.”

“No. It’s just that this isn’t going exactly how I expected it would.” She smiled and downed the l

ast of her wine. “More wine, please?”

He poured her more and lifted a finger. A waiter brought another bottle within seconds. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the man for an appletini instead, but he left as quickly as he came, yet again without even glancing at her. She rolled her eyes at the slight, picked up her wine, and drank some more. It would go straight to her head on her empty stomach, but she was past the point of caring.

At this point, she’d do anything to get through this evening without telling her boss that he sucked at first dates. Because he did. Horribly.

Too bad he didn’t suck at kissing, too.