“Actually, I forgot I left something in the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you outside in five, Charlie.” She gave me a pointed look before departing again, subtle as a sledgehammer indeed.
Jason took the hint. “I should get back to the guys. Charlie, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early,” she confirmed. After he left, she turned to me with a wry smile. “About dinner tomorrow.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said, standing to walk with her toward the exit.
“Pretty confident, aren’t you?”
“When I see something I want, I don’t hesitate.” And I’d known I wanted her immediately.
She paused, studying me. “And what exactly is it that you want, Asher-with-no-last-name?”
I held her gaze. “To continue our conversation somewhere quieter. To learn more about your work. To see if you’re as brilliant as you seem.”
“Smooth,” she said, but I caught the slight flush on her cheeks. “But I don’t date men I’ve just met in bars.”
“It’s just dinner,” I said, though we both knew it wasn’t. “Seven thirty? I’ll pick you up.”
“I didn’t give you my address.”
“I’m resourceful.”
We’d reached the hotel lobby, and through the glass doors I could see Mia waiting outside, pretending not to watch us.
Charlie hesitated, then nodded. “Seven thirty. But I’ll meet you here.”
“Here?” I gestured around the hotel lobby.
“You’re staying here, aren’t you? You entered from the lobby, not the street ... and that crystal snifter isn’t typical barware.”
Perceptive. And she’d noticed me come in. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven thirty on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You tell me your last name over dinner.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Deal.”
She extended her hand. “Good night, Asher.”
I took her hand, but instead of shaking it, I turned it over and brushed my thumb across her palm. “Good night, Charlie.”
The slight catch in her breath was almost imperceptible, but I caught it. And from the way her eyes narrowed, she knew I had.
She pulled her hand away, gave me one last measuring look, and walked out to meet her friend.
I watched her go. Charlie Winters. The engineer I’d come to L.A. to acquire along with her company. The woman whose work I’d been studying for months, whose innovations had convinced me to bet a significant chunk of my portfolio on marine construction. In about twelve hours, I was going to walk into a boardroom and take over her world.
I should cancel dinner. I knew that. I knew it the way I knew load-bearing walls and structural limits—the kind of knowledge that keeps people alive. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
I picked up my snifter and finished the cognac.
I didn’t cancel.
4
