The girl behind the stand was supermodel gorgeous with long black hair and dark exotic eyes. The woman was physically the polar opposite of Anna and exactly the type of woman who would date a man like James, wealthy arm candy.
But the hostess was no help. She was completely professional, not once flirting or ogling the breathtaking man standing by her side, even though he was currently worthy of a magazine cover. Instead the girl was all business as she nodded and gathered two menus. "Right this way, Mr. Armstrong."
Anna's muscles clenched when she felt his hand drop to her lower back and goosebumps popped out over her arms at the sensation. She edged to the side while throwing a glare over her shoulder.
His hand dropped away, and she missed its comforting weight immediately. "Sorry," he said, his lip lifting at the corner, not looking repentant one bit.
She tightened her mouth and continued to the small table in the back corner where the hostess waited with a boredexpression on her face. Anna’s eyes roamed the lit white candles, the set of wine glasses, an elaborate red rose centerpiece, and the round table partially enclosed from the rest of the seating area. Her anxiety ramped up several notches. This was way too romantic and private for her liking.
"Wait a minute." She pointed to her right. "How about over there near the window?"
The hostess frowned and turned to James who watched Anna with a knowing glimmer in his eyes. "What's wrong with this one?" he asked softly.
"I don't know…it's just so dark, and the light is better over there, and it has good energy…" Anna dwindled off when she realized she was rambling.
"This one gives us plenty of privacy to discuss business." James indicated the prepared table.
Anna wilted with a deep sigh and moved to the closest seat, jumping a little as James nudged around her to pull out the chair. She narrowed her eyes at the impish grin that stretched across his face, which only made him infinitely more attractive. He was making it impossible to remain immune to his charms.
This was gonna be a long night.
James bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh. It was difficult. Anna was fighting him, but he was more certain than ever that their attraction was very mutual.
In many ways, her resistance was refreshing and something he hadn't seen in a very long time. Women tended to make themselves very accessible when they discovered that his bank account had the same number of zeros as the budget for a sizeable city.
To be fair, he was guilty of taking advantage of their willingness a time or two. But generally those women were fake, shallow, and vapid. They focused on what they could get from him and it made their interactions feel very transactional. He never looked back when they left.
But not Anna.
Not only was she unimpressed with him in general, which really did not sit well. But there was no interest in her pinched gaze about his intent to buy out her entire stock of furniture for the foreseeable future. Most small business owners would be stumbling over themselves to impress him, salivating at the thought of a sale of this magnitude.
Again, not Anna.
What she couldn't hide was the way she gasped every time his hand brushed hers or when his knee accidentally nudged her thigh. It was a small table after all, something he'd requested deliberately when he placed the reservation. He wasn't about to let her put more space between them.
He wondered what she would do if he told her she'd been the center of his erotic dreams for months. She'd probably run for the exit.
"Would you like some wine?" he asked, keeping his tone light as he opened the menu.
She lifted a delicate shoulder. "Sure."
He stared at the ivory joint, imagining his lips coasting along the silky flesh, tracing over the toned muscles and smooth porcelain skin. He could probably spend an eternity exploring her body and never get bored.
Clearing his throat, he forced his gaze back to the menu. "They have several excellent Barolos. Does that sound good?"
She gave a bob of her head as she fidgeted with her fork and butter knife.
The waiter appeared the moment James lifted his head, placing a basket of bread and olive oil on the table. "We'll have a bottle of the Bruno Mascarella, and a caprese salad with our bread."
"Of course, sir." The man nodded and hurried off.
James broke apart several steaming sections, momentarily filling the air with the comforting smell of fresh Italian bread. Dipping a piece in the oil, he took a bite and hummed. Perfection. Just like his dinner companion who was currently doing everything she possibly could not to look at him.
"Have you been here before?" He leaned back in his chair as the waiter held out the bottle. With no shortage of ceremony, the man opened it with a pop and poured a sample. James took a sip and at his nod, the waiter filled their glasses.
"No," Anna finally answered as she reached for her glass, slowly swirling the deep red liquid around. She took a tentative sip. "Oh, this is really good."
James arched an eyebrow. That little comment felt a lot like a compliment. Definitely a promising sign.
