“That works.”
“Great. I’ll see you later. And good luck with those balloons.”
Evie headed down the corridor to her office, feeling lighter. Abby was insightful. She’d instantly seen the challenges Evie was facing without Evie having to spell them out. It was refreshing to feel understood and she was looking forward to the evening.
She pushed open the door of her office and stopped.
Luca was transferring a plate of sandwiches from the tray to her desk. “There you are. I thought I was going to have to take these away again and put them in the fridge.” He straightened and gave a nod of approval. “You look happy. That’s good. Yesterday you weren’t smiling. I was worried.”
“Yesterday I was surrounded by people trying to manipulate my life, although your chocolate cake was a high point.” She concentrated on the food to stop herself looking at his biceps. “You brought me lunch?”
“Yesterday all you ate at work was the chocolate cake. The day before, two cups of coffee. You need to eat.”
He’d made her lunch.
No one ever made her lunch. Sometimes, when she remembered, she grabbed one of the staff sandwiches from the fridge in the kitchen, but usually she was too busy rushing from one task to the next. No one noticed. But Luca had noticed.
The gesture made her feel ridiculously emotional. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“What would you have eaten if I hadn’t?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t thought about it. A chocolate bar?”
Luca looked pained. “And where’s the nutrition in that?”
“I was going more for comfort and energy than nutrition.”
“Sit down—” He gestured to the small table in the corner of her office where she sometimes held meetings.
“Luca, this is kind of you, but you really didn’t have to—”
“Five minutes. That’s all it will take to eat what I’ve made you and you’ll thank me.”
She eyed the stack of messages on her desk. “I really should—”
“Consider it work. It’s a sample of our new afternoon tea menu which I’d like you to approve. I’ve kept it fairly traditional because that’s what my research suggests people want. Mini quiches, smoked salmon on freshly baked rye bread, chicken and tarragon—have a taste. Also, I have included my special cannoli for you to try. I thought it would be fun to add a Sicilian twist to your traditional afternoon tea. I’d appreciate your feedback.”
“Is that true? Or do you just want me to eat?”
“Both.” He smiled, and she felt emotion threaten to swamp her.
Shehadto pull herself together. It was a bit unsettling that all it took for her to feel like sobbing was for someone to be kind enough to make her a sandwich. What was wrong with her? Was she really that close to the edge? She needed to pull herself together.
She sat down at the table and reached for a sandwich. “Thanks, Luca. I’m starving.” She’d left the house without eating breakfast and she hadn’t given a thought to lunch. “They’re a work of art. How do you do that?”
“It’s my job. Appearance matters, but taste is more important. So taste it.”
She reached out and selected chicken, feeling self-conscious. “I feel weird eating alone with you watching.”
“In that case, how does seven thirty tomorrow work for you?” She glanced up at him. “For what?”
“Eating together. I’ve booked a table. There’s a restaurant half an hour from here I’d like to try. Here’s the address.” He put a piece of paper in front of her. “You’ll probably want to driveseparately to reduce the chance of gossip. I know you hate that, and I don’t want to make things difficult for you.”
She put the sandwich down untouched. There was a strange fluttering in her stomach. “Are you asking me to dinner?”
“I didn’t make that clear?”
A date. He was asking her on a date. “Are you sure?”
