“Well, don’t worry.” Alex kept her hands busy by carefully placing the linen napkin over her exposed lap. With steeling breath, she continued her performance with, “Mr. Morris is nice enough and certainly attractive. But I prefer men who are a bit more mature.”
“Lucky for me.”
“We’ll see.” She smiled back.
There. How’s that for acting?
Gordan’s deep chuckle caused his suited shoulders to shake. “My dear Alexandria.” He lifted his glass to his lips. “I must say, you do intrigue me so.”
“As do my paintings, right?” Alex attempted to redirect the conversation to a more professional level.
The look on his face was anything but.
“I can honestly say there’s not an aspect of your life I don’t wish to learn more about.”
“Too bad I’m flying back to Charlotte in the morning.”
“If I didn’t have an early meeting myself, I’d offer to fly you home in my private jet.”
The idea of spending hours locked away in a plane with this guy turned her already churning stomach.
“Give me the chance to see how the other half lives?” She didn’t let her growing nausea show.
“Something like that.” Gordan’s lips curled into a smug smirk.
“Another time, perhaps.”
Oh, sure. How ’bout we plan for, say, a month from never?
“Perhaps. Of course, the sooner we can get you front and center in my corner of the art world, the sooner it will beyouwho’s living as the other half.”
The conversation came to a natural lull before Gordan began discussing his gallery and all the ways he could help her career flourish. Their server came with the first course of the meal he’d chosen, which included a tiny salad and a cup of creamy butternut squash soup.
As they ate, Alex did her best impression of a woman who was hanging on her dinner date’s every word. She laughed at his jokes. Agreed with his opinions on the food, the service, and the art that had been on display during the previous night’s event.
By the time the main course was brought to their table, her appetite was non-existent. She looked at herplate, picked up her fork, and took a bite of the Tournedos Rossini, otherwise known as a fancy version of beef tenderloin.
“It’s delicious, yes?”
“Mmm . . .” Alex nodded, thankful she didn’t have to lie. “This is excellent, thank you.”
“Try it with the foie gras.”
If memory served, the added delicacy was made from a duck or goose that had been force fed to purposely fatten the poor animal’s liver. The last thing she wanted to do was put something like that in her mouth. But the sooner the food was gone, the faster she could get out of here and back to the comfort of her hotel.
Don’t you mean back to Colt?
Alex swallowed back the unexpected thought and cut a tiny piece of the so-called delicacy with her fork. Stabbing another bite of the beef to hopefully cover the texture and taste, she glanced up to find Gordan watching her with an unsettling level of interest.
She bought the fork up toward her mouth. Her lips parted. Alex said a silent prayer that she could choke it down without gagging.
Speaking of gagging.
Gordan must have sensed her hesitation, because the next thing she knew, he was reaching across the small table and putting his hand over hers.
“Go on. Try it.” He brushed his thumb across her skin, his touch sending a shiver of unease racing down her spine. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”
I already do.
