When she opened the door, Ronan’s eyes started at the top of her head and moved over her body to the tips of her lavender painted toes.
His expression turned sultry and a little arrogant when his eyes returned to hers. “You should wear this to your office,” he said.
She looked down at the snug teal tank and loose, light cotton pants with teal and gold pinstripes on a cream background. “I’m sure my clients would be inspired to trust me at first sight.”
“They’d be inspired for something.”
She wanted to make a face at him, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. That was exactly what he was looking for.
“Why are you here, Ronan?” she asked, leaning against her doorjamb and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Having dinner with you and discussing our next steps. Are you going to invite me in or make me stand out here in the cold?”
“It’s April,” she argued. “It’s not as though there is snow on the ground.” He stared at her until she stepped back and said, “Go ahead and come in if you must.”
Ronan entered her apartment. He looked around with obvious curiosity. She wondered what he thought of the space. Her apartment was decorated in shades of cream, beige, and pale pink. It was a study in neutrality, but it wasn’t cold. It was warm and inviting. Soothing. It felt like a sanctuary rather than a clinical atmosphere.
He’d barely taken two steps into the apartment before her cat ran up to him and twined around his ankles, purring and mewing. “Who’s this?” he asked, crouching down.
“That’s Oscar,” she answered, her voice catching on the last word. He was using his left hand to pet her cat, and she could clearly see the curse mark on his wrist. The one he’d hidden with a glamour the day he’d come to her office.
Ronan ran his fingers through the cat’s fur. “He doesn’t seem very grouchy.”
He glanced up in time to see the smile that tugged her lips. She couldn’t fight it, even though she tried.
“You actually named him after Oscar the Grouch?” he asked, straightening from his crouch.
She nodded. “When he was a kitten, the resemblance was uncanny. His personality is anything but grumpy, but he looked cranky all the time when I first got him. So, I called him Oscar.”
Ronan chuckled. “That actually makes sense. And the irony tickles my humor.”
She shrugged. “Mine, too. Would you like something to drink?”
“What do you have?”
“Water, iced tea, wine, or beer.”
“You have beer?” he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.
“Yes, I like beer sometimes,” she answered, rolling her eyes.
“I’ll take one.”
She went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of honey wheat beer from a local microbrewery. Ronan shot her a dry look, which she answered with a shrug. If he wanted specific beer, he should have brought it with him.
“Thanks. Are we eating at your table?”
Dominique nodded and gestured to the four-top round table in the little nook next to the kitchen. She moved to the cabinets and got a couple of plates, then she grabbed two forks.
Ronan lifted a brow at the utensils. “Seriously? You’re not going to eat with your hands?”
“This is for anything that falls out,” she answered, gesturing with the fork.
He smirked as she set everything on the table, and then she went back to pour herself a glass of wine.
After they were seated and divvying up the empanadas, Dominique asked, “So, what are our next steps?”
“Well, first, we’re going to eat dinner.” He chuckled when she rolled her eyes again. “And then we’ll discuss our trip to visit my parents for your official introduction as my fiancée. I told them we would be there next weekend, but we can postpone it a week or two if necessary.”
