“It’s just . . . I just . . . Well, I thought you might . . . you know . . . call the office or something.” She rolled her eyes at her unsophisticated response.
“But my reasons for calling are personal,” he went on. “I want to ask you to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
Rethabile’s smile was so wide it was starting to hurt her face. Then she remembered the vow. Dinner definitely counted as romantic. Reneilwe would never let her get away with a dinner date.
“Rethabile?” A note of anxiety had crept into his voice. “Please tell me if I’m being presumptuous. I know it was a work function and maybe – ”
“Lunch,” she interjected.
There was a brief silence. “Excuse me?”
Slowly her head cleared and her confidence returned. “We can have lunch tomorrow. Our offices are in Menlyn, so it would be easier for me to meet you there.”
“Lunch is fine. One o’clock on the dot?”
“I’ll see you then.” She was thrilled to hear that the sultriness had returned to her voice. “Good night, Lucas.” She ended the call and heaved a sigh of contentment.
“You do realise that this has to be an innocent, friendly lunch, right?”
Rethabile glared at Rebecca. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Her sister grinned. “Hey, I’m on your side. I hope this one works out.”
“Me too.” Rethabile felt her stomach flip over. There was something about Lucas Khumalo that turned her into a quivering mass of overactive hormones. It was her luck that a man with that kind of sex appeal had appeared just when she decided to tame her passionate ways.
However, lunch was a safe option. There was no way she would tear his clothes off in a restaurant full of people in broad daylight. At least, she hoped not . . .
* * *
Rethabile’s heart was beating so fast, she was afraid she might have a heart attack. Just the thought of seeing Lucas again was enough to drive her to distraction. He had sent her an SMS to let her know which restaurant he was in, and she tried to walk slowly, in a dignified fashion, but she couldn’t wait to be near him.
She smoothed the red dress she had picked for the occasion. It was form-fitting, like most of her clothes, and the V-neck did wonders for her chest. She’d thrown a cropped jacket over it for the office, but as she made her way towards the restaurant she slipped the jacket off. Reneilwe hadn’t said anything about changing her wardrobe, after all.
She walked into the restaurant and her roving gaze caught him immediately. She ignored the admiring glances from other diners and walked right up to the table. The swing in her ample hips was natural; she couldn’t help it any more than she could help her small waist or smooth skin. She had always been aware of her effect on men, but at that moment the only man she cared about was staring at his phone.
“Lucas,” she breathed.
He looked up, and his expression of undisguised awe almost made her melt into the floor. “Hi.” He paused, his gaze wandering over her figure. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
She smiled and lowered her gaze, feeling suddenly shy. Rethabile Moemedi, shy! This man was bringing out a side of her she had never seen before. “Am I late?”
“No . . . uhm . . . I’m sorry if I’m staring. It’s just . . . that usher’s uniform you wore last night didn’t do you justice.”
She gave him a coy smile. “Thank you. Shall we order? I’m starving.”
They placed their orders and then settled into conversation.
“So you manage a hotel,” she began. “Is it fun?”
“Fun?” he laughed. “No one’s ever asked me that before. No, it’s not exactly fun. I do enjoy it, though. I suppose your job must be fun.”
Rethabile grinned. “The best in the world. I help create the kind of moments people remember for the rest of their lives. Some of them are low-key, but most of them really are grand gestures. Like this one engagement we had on a hilltop at sunrise.”
He smiled. “Wow. You’re really into this stuff. What’s your tag line again? ‘Making magical moments’?”
“That’s right.”
As they waited for the food, they spoke about work and family. Rethabile felt completely at ease with him. Her initial nervousness was gone, but every time he smiled or looked at her, her heart fluttered and her stomach threatened to jump into her throat. It was his twinkling eyes, she decided. Or maybe his soft, tempting lips. Or his broad shoulders, strong arms and large, manly hands . . .
She dragged her thoughts back to the conversation. “I can’t believe you have four siblings. I only have two and that’s plenty!”
“Well, my brothers are overseas and my sisters are scattered across the continent, so it doesn’t feel crowded any more,” he explained. “I love them, but I must admit, I hated being the middle child.”
They were halfway through dessert when he reached across the table and took her hand. A jolt of desire went through her body, shocking her with its intensity.
“I want to see you again,” he told her.
“I’m free on Saturday.” Don’t look at his lips, she warned herself.
“Do you swim?”
Rethabile frowned. “Yes . . . why?”
“Meet me at the hotel at noon. We’ll have lunch, take a swim in the private pool, and get to know each other better.”
She gulped. The idea of being alone with a half-dressed Lucas Khumalo was unbearably tempting. How could she say no? But then again . . . how could she say yes? “I . . . uh . . . what’s wrong with the regular pool?”
“Oh.” He looked flustered. “Sure, the regular pool, if that will make you more comfortable. I wasn’t trying to . . . ”
“I know,” she beamed at him. “I have to get back to the office, and I’m sure you do too. Thanks for lunch, Lucas. I really enjoyed it.”
“Me too.” He rose to pull out her chair. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had done that for her.
“I’ll see you on Saturday,” she said.
“Saturday.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t.
She walked away from the table. She could feel his eyes on her. She hoped he was appreciating the way the dress hugged her figure. Imagine what could happen if she and Lucas were alone in a pool together, dressed in nothing but their swimsuits . . .
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