A Cowboy in Manhattan(49)
Her hair was loose, flowing in waves around a pair of dangling onyx earrings, with a chunky bracelet and matching choker.
“We may have to upgrade the restaurant,” he told her, his gaze sweeping from her hair to her shoes and back again.
“You clean up good, too,” she teased, impressed as always by his athletic physique beneath the cut of his suit.
He was freshly shaved. His hair was neat, his shirt perfectly pressed, and his tie was in a smooth knot. He’d even forgone cowboy boots for a pair of polished loafers.
“What’s your favorite restaurant?” he asked her, stepping back in the hallway to make room for her to exit her apartment.
“Did you make a reservation?” As far as she was concerned, there was no need to change his plans.
“Danielle suggested Flavian’s.”
“Who’s Danielle?” Katrina fought a spurt of jealousy at the mention of another woman’s name.
“Caleb’s lawyer.”
“She lives in New York?”
“Chicago.”
Katrina was confused. “And you called her for a restaurant recommendation?”
“It’s a long story.”
Katrina waited, but he didn’t elaborate.
“Flavian’s is fine,” she told him. “The ballet company goes there a lot. They have a nice deck.”
She pushed down her curiosity and told herself to quit being jealous. Danielle was likely just a friend, a business acquaintance at that. In fact, it sounded as if she was a business acquaintance of Caleb’s rather than Reed’s. Which didn’t explain why Reed would call all the way to Chicago for a restaurant recommendation.
“Will you be warm enough if we eat outside?” he asked, gazing critically at the little dress.
Katrina determinedly put Danielle from her mind. She reached for the black wrap she’d hung on a hook near the door and draped it over her shoulders, tucking her small clutch purse under her arm.
“They have outdoor heaters on the deck,” she told him. Then she stepped into the hallway and pulled the apartment door closed behind her.
He lifted the door key from her hand and secured the dead bolt for her. “You do know there’s something fundamentally wrong with the dress code.”
“What dress code?” As far as she knew, Flavian’s didn’t have a dress code.
“New York City’s dress code.”
She raised her brows in a question.
He pressed the key into her palm then held out his arm. “You’re going to freeze, and I’m going to swelter.”
She replaced the key in her purse and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they started toward the elevator. “That’s so you can be a gentleman at the end of the date and let me wear your jacket.”
“You think this is a date?” he asked. There was a level of unease in his voice.
“What else would you call it?”
He came to a halt at the elevator and pressed the call button. It pinged in response, and the mechanism whirred behind the closed door.
Reed peered down at her, his gray eyes narrowing for a moment before he finally spoke. “I didn’t come to New York to sleep with you, Katrina.”
She held the gaze for a long moment, working up her courage. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
He sucked in a breath. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I think of you like that,” she dared.
“Katrina,” he warned on a growl.
“What? It’s not like you can take my virginity a second time.”
“My brother is marrying your sister,” he repeated for what was probably the third time. “We’re going to be in each other’s lives from here on in. I wouldn’t feel right about having a fling.”
“As opposed to having a one-night stand?”
He didn’t seem to have an answer for that, and the elevator doors slid open to reveal a distinguished-looking sixtysomething couple whom Katrina vaguely recognized.
“Good evening,” Reed offered smoothly, gesturing for Katrina to enter first.
“Evening.” The couple nodded in response.
Katrina moved into the elevator, turned and stood next to Reed. The doors closed, and the car descended.
When the doors reopened, they crossed the compact lobby and went out through the glass exit door, where a massive, white stretch Hummer limousine waited at the curb.