Giving In (Surrender Trilogy #2)(9)

She’d lifted her hands from her lap and rested them on the table and Jensen reached for one, surprising her with the speed of his capturing it before she could withdraw. Almost as if he’d anticipated such a reaction.

“I didn’t think you implied anything. No offense was given or taken.”

She went utterly still as his hand continued to cover hers. He didn’t tighten his fingers around her hand. She couldn’t really even consider it holding hands, but his hand blanketed hers, warm, heavy. Thankfully, her wrist was not facing up or surely he would be able to feel how rapidly her pulse beat.

Desperate to keep the topic to business, she casually pulled her hand away, reaching for her glass of water as if she only wanted a drink and wasn’t breaking free from his grasp. The quick flash of amusement in his expression told her he hadn’t been fooled for a moment. Did nothing escape this man’s attention?

As if conceding to her thoughts, or perhaps because her desperation showed, he leaned back and resumed their conversation.

He studied her intently, his gaze more professional than before. This dynamic was one she was more comfortable with. Boss and employee. Not a man and a woman sharing an intimate dinner. A date for God’s sake. She hoped to hell this didn’t qualify.

“I’ve incorporated many of your ideas into my final proposal, as they align with my own. I’ll have the completed analysis for you to look over on the drive to the meeting tomorrow.”

She’d nearly forgotten that they’d already ordered and this was in fact a dinner when the waiter arrived with their entrées. Silence descended as their plates were set, glasses filled with wine, the bottle left on the table at Jensen’s request. Then the waiter silently departed, leaving the two in seclusion once more.

She stared down at the filet and lobster she’d ordered. They looked succulent. Perfectly cooked and yet she was so unnerved by . . . Jensen. It was him. She’d certainly had dealings with other men. It wasn’t as if she’d avoided any and all contact with them in her adulthood. But none of them had ever made her feel as starkly vulnerable as Jensen did. And he was absolutely the kind of ruthless man who’d exploit any weakness, take advantage and swoop in like an avenging god.

She mentally rolled her eyes. God, Kylie. Dramatic much? You’re a flaming moron. You flatter yourself to even imagine he has any interest in you whatsoever. He just likes pissing you off and you’re an easy target. Eat your damn food and quit pretending this is a date and not the business matter it is before you really freak yourself out.

After chiding herself, something she seemed to do with more frequency since meeting Jensen, she dove into the delicious-smelling food. The flavor burst over her taste buds and she hummed her pleasure before she could call back the sound.

“Good?” Jensen asked.

She glanced up to see his gaze fastened solidly on her mouth. Following the up and down motion of her jaw as she chewed. His eyes glittered predatorily and for a moment she couldn’t swallow.

Finally forcing down the food, chasing it with wine she couldn’t even taste, she nodded.

“It’s wonderful,” she said in a husky voice she didn’t recognize.

God, she was acting like they were out on a date. Making cute and feeling awkward over the sudden absence of conversation.

“I’m glad it meets with your approval,” he said. “It’s one of my favorite places to eat.”

She actually did roll her eyes then. “That somehow doesn’t surprise me.”

He arched one dark eyebrow in question. “Why would you say that?”

She shrugged. “It suits you. Very . . . masculine. Your kind of crowd.”

He pinned her with an imperious look. “And what crowd is that?”

“Powerful,” she said after giving a moment’s contemplation. “Wealthy. When I first walked in I thought, ‘This is a place that caters to rich old farts.’”

He laughed, startling her with the rich, vibrant sound that rumbled from his throat. She would have never imagined laughter to be beautiful. Laughter was alien to her anyway. But coming from a man who rarely smiled, it sounded almost magical. She wanted to hear it again. Savor the sound for the brief pleasure it gave her.

“You think me a rich old fart?”

She grinned then, teeth flashing, and she hoped she didn’t have any food in those teeth. How embarrassing would that be?

“Definitely not old.”

“So a rich fart then. I feel so much better,” he said dryly.

“You have to admit, everything about this place caters to wealth and power.” She gestured to the walls. “How many restaurants do you know of that hang portraits on their walls of older men who look like judges or politicians or bankers or some other guy who founded some corporation and has loads of money?”

His lips twitched and he took another sip of his wine, licking his upper lip to remove the excess moisture. Her breath hitched and she yanked her gaze away from his mouth.

“I know nothing about the whims of the proprietor, or whom he wants to cater to. All I know is that they serve a damn fine steak and their service is impeccable. I’m easy that way, though.”

“You like your creature comforts. Fine food and being waited on hand and foot.”

She didn’t intend it to be an insult, and she hoped he didn’t take it as such. It was merely an observation spoken aloud, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. She didn’t want to encourage anything more than a strictly professional relationship with him. She had friends—good friends—and she wasn’t looking to broaden that small, intimate group. But she might have no choice since Jensen would surely be included in more of her friends’ get-togethers.