would leave her alone, ensuring her secret identity would be safe.
She pressed her large straw hat lower on her head and adjusted her sunglasses when every woman they passed turned to watch Ryan walk by. At what she guessed to be well over six feet two inches, he was hard to miss. Especially since his tall, broad body was impeccably presented by the well-cut designer business suit he’d changed into. He moved with an easy, loose-limbed male grace that all women probably found hard to ignore.
Anna vowed to fly in the face of tradition.
Ryan was just a guy who had offered to buy her lunch.
No problem.
She would simply eat lunch, brainstorm about fund-raising, and that would be the end of their brief association.
The waiter seated them in a secluded booth at a table draped in white linen, set with lots of crystal and silver gleaming in the muted afternoon sunlight. People dressed in business attire talked in subdued tones and muted strains of Vivaldi floated to her ears.
The pleasant, earthy scent of cooking meat laced the air. Her mouth watered but she tried to ignore the feeling in favor of maintaining a healthy diet.
Did Ryan eat at such elegant places often? She usually avoided swanky restaurants because she’d spent too many hours of her youth stuck with the pretensions and dictates of society her father had drilled into her head.
She could make her own choices now, thank goodness.
Anna took the menu and opened it, pleased and surprised by the vegetarian selections, then glanced at Ryan. “Aren’t you going to look at the menu?”
“I already know what I’m having.”
“Oh. So you come here often?”
“All the time. Their steaks are the best in town.”
“You like to eat, don’t you?” she asked, smiling.
A shadow appeared in his eyes. “Yeah, I do,” he said curtly.
She drew her brows together, puzzled by his clipped answer, then turned her attention back to the menu. Even though her mouth was still watering over the smell of steak in the air, she suppressed a shudder at what his arteries must look like if he ate red meat all the time.
She then decided on a pasta and vegetable dish, and looked back at Ryan, who gazed at her with undisguised interest. “What?” she asked, ignoring the thrill that raced through her when he looked at her with his piercing blue eyes.
He kicked up the corner of his mouth. “I was just wondering why you’re wearing that hat and glasses. They don’t look like your style.”
She glanced away, then pushed her hair behind her ear beneath her hat. How could she possibly explain her outlandish disguise? The truth was, she couldn’t without giving away her real identity.
But Ryan had already seen her face, and hadn’t recognized her. Maybe her auburn dye job had thrown him off track. Since their booth was fairly well hidden, perhaps she could dispense with the hat and glasses during lunch to shove Ryan off the subject. “I…uh, well…” She removed her hat and glasses and put them in her straw tote bag. “No reason.” She gave him a brilliant smile.
He stared at her appreciatively and smiled back, shaking his head as if so say, “Yeah, right.” “Okay, you have your reasons, which you obviously aren’t going to share with me. What I want to know is why you agreed to pose for the spread in the first place.”
She held up her hands. “Look, I know it seems strange, but the regular model didn’t show and I needed my gown to be part of the spread.” She picked up her water glass and gave him a wry smile. “I know changing my mind might seem silly. But when you showed up…well, you weren’t what I was expecting.”
He leaned his forearms on the table and lifted a quizzical brow. “How so?”
“Oh, come on,” she said, smiling. “You must know that you’re an attractive man. I didn’t want to risk winning Best Couple and having to take part in any more…stuff.” Being in front of a camera had always terrified her. Or, rather, the results terrified her.
“Oh, so I’m a dangerous guy, then?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes. His dimple flashed at the corner of his mouth. “I’m wounded.”
Anna felt herself heating up, reacting to his teasing tone and appealing, lazy grin. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” She took a long swig of water, hoping to cool down. “You, Mr. Cavanaugh, are the kind of man who is inherently dangerous.”
His expression sobered. “You’re serious.”
“Absolutely. I’ve known men like you.” Men who made you trust, convinced you to believe, then broke your heart. “All flash and charisma. Nothing more.”
He leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Thanks a lot. And maybe I should mention that the wedding pictures were going to be fake, remember? You weren’t really marrying me, you know.”
No, she wasn’t. She was never going to have the kind of fairy-tale wedding she designed gowns for. She doubted she’d ever be marrying anyone or that she would ever be able to trust another man again. And that had to be fine. If she succeeded in meeting her father’s terms, her design business would be enough and, more importantly, would prove she had worth beyond her cash value or her banking skills.
She inclined her head. “You have a point, and I realize I may have…overreacted. But in my opinion, with you as my groom, winning Best Couple would have been a given.”
He glanced down and almost looked embarrassed by her compliment. “Well, I don’t know about that…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “So you think you overreacted?” he asked, blatantly directing the subject away from himself.
She took a whole wheat roll from the basket on the table and eyed Ryan thoughtfully, wondering about the incongruity between his extreme good looks and polish and his almost blushing discomfiture over her flattering remark. “Maybe,” she hedged, hardly able to tell him that what other men had put her through had left a wound that affected all of the decisions she made. “Why all the questions?”
He rubbed his neck and looked sideways at her. “Other than the fact that you’re running around like a secret agent with a floppy hat and dark glasses on?” He opened one side of his jacket, cocked his head toward his shoulder and said, “Come in Double-O-Seven, come in.”
She grinned and held up her hands, liking this teasing, lighthearted side of him. “All right, all right,” she said, laughing. “I get the picture.” She sat for a long moment, gradually sobering. She had to remember why her disguise was so important—she wanted to succeed on her own. “I admit, what I’m doing seems strange, and maybe a little comical, but, trust me, I have a good reason, all right?”
He gazed at her for a moment, his expression turning serious, then nodded. “All right. And for the record, I was also asking questions because I’m curious about why you backed out. As I said, my charity is in the middle of a fund-raising campaign, and could really use the publicity the article would have generated. Seeing as how the Mentor A Child Foundation will suffer, I wanted to know what your reasons were.”
A bothersome sensation rolled around inside
