HR videos weren’t the most exciting things to watch, but it seemed to take forever for one o’clock to arrive. When it finally did, I stopped in the ladies’ room to freshen up—like I would for any lunch meeting.Sure, tell yourself whatever you want, Sutton.Then I rode the elevator downstairs. The car was packed, and people got off and on at every floor, making the nerves I already felt fray a little more as the seconds ticked by.
Though the sight of Jagger Langston looking at his watch, impatiently waiting in the lobby, made me want to stay on the elevator and ride it up and down again. It probably wasn’t a good thing that I felt a strange urge to make the CEO of the company bristle. I took a deep breath and stepped into the lobby.
Jagger’s head turned, and his eyes immediately latched on me. He watched each step of my approach as if there weren’t two hundred other people moving about in the busy lobby. He didn’t seem to notice the half-dozen women whose heads turned as they passed him. The man was truly breathtaking—put a fountain around him, and he’d have more visitors than a Michelangelo.
“Hi,” I said. “Sorry I’m late. The elevator stopped at every floor.”
“The stairs are quicker at this time of day.”
“Stairs? You work on the fifty-ninth floor.”
“Where I spend too much time sitting.” Jagger’s hand settled on the small of my back, and he steered me through the lobby without another word. Outside, a uniformed driver leaned against a silver Maybach. When he saw Jagger enter the turnstile, he pushed off and reached for the back door. But Jagger waved him away. “Downtown, Sam. Seventeenth and Park.”
“Yes, sir. Sure thing.” The driver tipped his hat to me and offered a friendly smile, then quickly jogged around the front of the car and got behind the wheel.
I slid into the backseat first, and Jagger joined me, pulling the door closed behind him. It was a full-size car, but the inside suddenly felt very small. The smell of Jagger’s delicious cologne permeated the air, making it impossible for me to relax.
“How was your morning?” he asked as we pulled away from the curb.
“Fine. And yours?”
He looked outside the window. “Distracting.”
“Oh? Is everything okay?”
“That remains to be seen.”
Jagger’s phone rang. He looked down and frowned. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”
The heated phone call lasted until we pulled up at the restaurant—something about the terms of financing for an investment.
“Sorry about that.” He stuffed his cell into his jacket pocket and told the driver to stay in the car, then got out and offered me his hand.
“Thank you.” I smiled as I slid out.
Tuccio’s must’ve been a frequent stomping ground of his, because the attractive hostess lit up when we walked in, and she quickly routed us to a quiet table in the back without having to be asked. Jagger again displayed perfect manners by pulling out my chair. I thought it was interesting how his actions were in stark contrast to the way he seemed to disregard people in the office.
“Can I get you something to drink while you take a look at the daily specials?” The hostess handed us each a leather-bound menu.
Jagger looked to me.
“I’ll have a seltzer with lime, please.”
He nodded. “Same.”
Once she disappeared, I perused the choices. From across the table, I felt Jagger’s gaze searing into me. I tried to ignore it, but eventually I lowered the menu.
“What?”
He squinted. “What?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“You’re sitting across from me. Where would you like me to look?”
“Maybe at themenu?”
There was an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. “I already know what I want.”
