“Excuse me?”
Who did he think he was? There were men who did that? And she’d struck him as the kind of girl who would—?
Erin shook her head as she blinked in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
Chewing on a mouthful of her father’s carbonara as calmly as he’d said the words, he swallowed before answering in the same deep rumble he’d used to get her attention the first time. “You ran away.”
“I had to get changed and take the subway home. I wasn’t supposed to be there as long as I was.”
Technically it wasn’t a lie. Truth was, she had run away. The kiss had both terrified her and somehow been too right—at the same time. And since Erin didn’t believe in love at first sight and was now in possession of more information about who she’d kissed, she didn’t regret leaving. She just wished she’d remembered her cell phone….
“Mmm.” He concentrated on loading his fork again. “Last-minute stand-in. I was told that when I called the modeling agency. They were very apologetic.”
“I was the only random bystander tall enough for the dress.”
“I doubt that’s the only reason you were plucked from the crowd.”
“The shoes were too small.”
“Can’t say I noticed when you were running away.”
Erin scowled at him as he lifted the laden fork to his mouth. “I didn’t run.”
“And you had a subway train to catch. Don’t tell me—midnight curfew, right?”
Funny guy. Frankly, he was making her wish he’d spoken to her that night. If he’d opened his mouth she would probably have been less attracted to him.
Leaning back in her seat, she folded her arms across her breasts and continued scowling at him as he ate. He was too good-looking for his own good. Erin bet this tactic usually worked for him. Add a family fortune similar to that of the Rockefellers or the Vanderbilts and he probably hadn’t slept alone since he hit puberty. It was amazing the information Google could bring a girl’s way….
“I handed your diamond back, the agency team paid me, I did everything I was supposed to do. There really isn’t anything to finish. I appreciate you returning my phone, but you could have let me know where to pick it up or had it couriered over.”
Swallowing, he pointed the prongs of his fork at the large bowl in front of him. “This is really good.”
“I’m sure Papa will sleep better knowing you think so.” She smiled sweetly.
“Don’t like me much, do you?”
Oh, gee, she wondered why that might be.
“What changed in the last forty-eight hours?” he added with one of the intense stares that made her toes curl inside her shoes. “You liked me then…”
Erin lifted her chin and willed her cheeks not to burn. Darned Irish complexion let her down every single time. She could blame her mother for that. “I Googled you.”
“I think you’re the first woman to do that.”
“I doubt it.” Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her friends waving as they left the restaurant. Deserters.
“You’re the first one to tell me you did.” He shrugged. “Kinda stands you out of the crowd.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not stalker material.”
“Not sure I’d complain if you were.”
When he had the gall to wink at her, Erin’s jaw dropped a couple of inches.
Nate shook his head. “No one ever tell you not to believe everything you read?”
“Photographic evidence is hard to deny.”
“And you saw…?”
“Women.” She smiled sweetly again. “Lots of women.”
The fork hovered in front of his mouth. “Jealous?”
How did he get his head through doors? The fact that he wasn’t that far off the mark didn’t help, either. She had been jealous when she found the first couple of pictures. But the more of them she found the more she understood what kind of man he was.
“You’re not my type.”
“What is your type?”
Walked into that one, hadn’t she? With no idea why she was still talking to him, Erin took a breath and found the strength to look him straight in the eye. “A guy who doesn’t serial date would be a start.”
“Glad we’re not jumping to conclusions. I might say from what I’ve learned so far this evening that you’re commitment-phobic. Would that be accurate?”
“No.” She frowned. “I just haven’t—”
“Met the right guy?”
Well, yes, as it happened. Wasn’t that usually the case nine times out of ten?
He then astonished her by asking, “How do you know it’s not me?”
“You’re telling me you’re actively hunting for ‘the one’?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand—”
“Dinner. Friday night. We’ll talk about it.” He set his fork down and pushed the bowl back an inch to indicate he was done.
“I’m not going out with you.”
“I’ll pick you up here. You live next door, right?”
Erin frowned. “I won’t be here. And I have to work early on Saturday morning.”
“We’ll stick to your curfew. And we’ll eat somewhere close.” He pushed his chair back, light glittering in his melted chocolate eyes the way it had when they’d danced. “Eight o’clock. And if you’re not here I’m sure a member of your family can tell me where you are….”
“I’ll tell them we broke up.”
“I’ll tell them I’m winning you back.”
She sighed heavily. “Could you be any more annoying?”
“You’ll find out Friday, won’t you?”
Pretty much her entire family made a point of saying goodbye to him as he left, while Erin shook her head and blinked into the middle distance.
What just happened?
* * *
A constant stream of flowers, every hour on the hour, started arriving the next day. One ridiculously large bunch was for Erin’s mother, who told everyone foolish enough to step through the doors of the restaurant that her daughter’s boyfriend had sent them. If the person was someone she knew, it led to a gushing soliloquy of how good-looking he was, how thoughtful to have sent them, etcetera, etcetera. While Erin suffered the worst guilt trip of her life.
When every table in the restaurant and in the house next door had flowers, the gifts started arriving. Perfumes, baskets of expensive toiletries, balloons attached to boxes of handmade chocolates…
“Remind me again why we don’t like this guy?” her friend Madison asked.
Clare reached into the beribboned box. “Any man who sends gourmet truffles can’t be all bad.”
“He probably has the place they come from on speed dial.”
“You need to find out what he’s like with children and small animals.” Clare waved the box temptingly under Erin’s nose. “Not having one? They’re seriously good. And it’s not like you ever put any weight on, no matter what you eat.”
Madison batted her lashes. “We hate you for that.”
“You’ve said,” Erin said as she shooed the box away with the back of her hand. “It’s bad enough he won over my mother in sixty seconds, now I have to deal with you two after a couple of chocolates?”
“Really good chocolates,” Clare pointed out.
Leaning her forearms on the tabletop, Erin looked around at the faces in the Mexican place they’d found to have lunch off Fifth and Broadway. A day shopping in Manhattan with her friends had seemed like the ideal escape from the constant stream of gifts arriving in Brooklyn. It was clever, she’d give him that. He wasn’t giving her a chance to forget him. Not for one single second….
“I should never have told my mother I had a boyfriend.”
Madison smiled. “Honey, your mom had a half dozen friends of second cousins lined up. You had to do something after the last guy tried to teach you the internal workings of a spaceship.”
“Do you think I’m commitment-phobic?” The question made her friends stare at her in silence for what felt like forever, so Erin lifted her brows.
“Of course you’re not!”
“Where did that come from?”
Since he’d said it, it had been rattling round her brain and tangling up with guilt about her nonexistent boyfriend, and paranoia had set in. She wondered if it was why she’d kissed and run. Maybe it was an easier way to satisfy a need for romance if there wasn’t a possibility of anything in the region of dating. Erin didn’t have a particularly good history with dating. But then if her mother hadn’t decided to ‘help,’ she might not have had so many disastrous experiences.
When her cell phone chirped on the tabletop, she picked it up. “Hello?”
“Eight o’clock.”
Trying to remain unaffected by his voice, she lifted her arm and checked her brand-new designer wristwatch. “No. It’s ten to two.”
“So am I winning you back?”
“You never had me to begin with.”
“Is that him?” Madison mouthed.
Erin nodded. “If I go on a date with you, will the avalanche of gifts stop?”
“What gifts?” The smile came through in his voice. “I’ll see you at eight.”
“Determined, isn’t he?” Clare said as Erin set her phone down.
That was one word to describe him.
“He’d have to be after that phone call,” Madison added.
Great. Now she was a shrew. Erin sighed heavily.
“Okay. Work with me.” Madison blew a puff of air at a blond corkscrew of hair and leaned forward. “Your Mom is setting you up on blind dates from hell ‘cos you’re the only daughter she has left to plan a wedding for—and we all know how much she loves a wedding. But you’ve been so wrapped up in work lately you’re practically a hermit, so even if you found Mister Right you wouldn’t have had time for him….”
“Am I going to feel better at any point?”
Madison rolled her eyes. “You need to have fun. Let the gifts come. Go on a couple of expensive dates with this guy. Hell, have a fling since he’s so hot. But have some fun. Call it evening the score for all the women he’s dated and dumped, if you like.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” Clare softly pointed out. “You’re suggesting Erin use him the way it looks like he’s used women in the past. And there’s no actual proof he’s done that, is there?”
That was Clare, always the mediator, always the optimist, despite the fact that Erin had immediately dismissed the idea of evening up the score for womankind. “Don’t compare him to Quinn, Clare. Quinn’s a good guy under that layer of cockiness—we all know that.”
The mention of her best friend’s name made Clare’s voice even softer than before. “How do you know Nate isn’t if you don’t get to know him?”
Erin didn’t know which was worse: finding out he was the womanizer the evidence suggested, or discovering he was a good guy underneath all the arrogance.
“You don’t have to sleep with him,” Madison clarified, “just have fun. Sometimes to find your Prince you gotta jump a few lily pads and wade through the frogs.”
There was a certain logic in that. Not that Nate was within hitting distance of anything resembling a frog. But it wasn’t just his looks that made him dangerous. If he added charm to his abundant self-confidence and the talent he had in the kissing department there was a very real possibility she could get in way over her head. And his life and hers? Worlds apart.
“Not like he’s gonna give up on dinner anyway, is it?”
No. It wasn’t, but, “I’m not kissing him again.”
“Wanna bet?” Madison winked.
There was a distinct grimace from Clare. “Don’t make a bet. Those things are dangerous….”
“Okay, spill.” Erin did what she’d always done: she focused on someone else’s problems. It had always been easier than dealing with her own. And anyway, she had six hours until she had to deal with Nathaniel Van Rothstein.
Five hours fifty-nine, five hours fifty-eight, five hours fifty-seven…
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