for Darrington,’ Case said smoothly to the maître d’.
The balding man in a tux smoothed his thin moustache and nodded. ‘Your usual table, Mr Darrington?’ he asked, sweeping up two menus and swinging around.
‘Yes.’ Case glanced at her sheepishly. ‘That’ll be fine. Thank you, Louis.’ Case placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her after Louis.
‘So you bring all your women here, do you?’ she asked, biting her cheek, fighting an unusual ache around her ribs. ‘Not that I mind,’ she blurted. ‘Or care. I’m sure a man like you must get around and wouldn’t be short of offers and it’s not like this isn’t a nice place to bring dates to show them not only how much you’re making but your taste in wine and food, and your style—’
‘That’s not my intention,’ Case offered.
Louis stopped at a small round table which was nestled in the corner of the room. A deep red leather bench-seat curled around the table, against the coffee-coloured wall and a print of a modern artwork with bold strokes and even bolder colours.
A candle flickered under a textured glass shade, the crystal wineglasses gleaming in the light, the wine bottle all too obviously chilling in the ice bucket beside the table, at the ready.
It was one thing to suppose the man was a career Romeo, another thing entirely to see it, feel it, know it. Tahlia glanced back across the busy room towards the door.
Was she just another distraction from doing his job properly?
‘You don’t like?’ he asked, moving closer to her. ‘We can go somewhere else if you’re not comfortable, if you don’t want to stay…’
She lifted her chin, stifling her concerns. This was business, nothing personal. ‘Why mess with something that obviously works for you?’
She slipped on to the bench, sliding a little on to the seat in front of the setting on the table, twining her hands together on her lap. ‘Nothing wrong with being organised, regulated, into an efficient routine and all that.’ Sounded a lot like what she’d do if she was a guy and was dating regularly.
Tahlia glanced up at Case, who was settling himself at the other side of the small table, his knees brushing against hers. ‘Doesn’t mean this is contrived,’ she blurted, blood rushing to her face and southward.
She stared at her place setting and straightened the cutlery. ‘That I’m just another woman to pass a meal with and try on for—’
‘Hey.’ Case reached across the table and held her hand. ‘I’m here with you because I want to find out more about you, because I’m interested in who you are, why you’re who you are,’ he said slowly, his voice deep and his sapphire-blue gaze on hers. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort with the dinner arrangements but it was short notice and I have a rapport here.’
‘That’s okay—’ she waved her other hand ‘—you don’t have to explain.’
‘I want to.’ He gave the hand captured in his a gentle squeeze. ‘I don’t want you to think for a moment that this isn’t special.’
Tahlia frowned. He couldn’t mean that. It was just a spiel. He was an expert, after all. A tall, handsome, amazing Casanova. ‘Really?’ she asked as innocently as she could.
‘Yes. I’ve brought dates here, but no one as inquisitive, observant and amazingly frank as you.’
She couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sorry. I’m not usually like this.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Case said, leaning closer to her. ‘I like you just the way you are.’
Tahlia’s chest warmed, filling her with a soft heat that radiated outward, making her whole body light and tingly.
She glanced at where his hand covered hers in his warmth, his strength, and she couldn’t help but like the feeling, like him.
No, not a good idea. She knew where liking a man got you—into loving a man, trusting a man and depending on him and she wasn’t going to experience that sort of vulnerability and loss, ever.
Sure, she respected the way he dealt with the staff but she’d confirmed his total lack of application to the Marketing job and all it entailed.
He had secured her promotion through dubious connections.
‘Case…that’s an odd name,’ she blurted, extracting her hand as slowly and as casually as she could before she did something she’d regret.
‘My father’s a lawyer,’ Case said, drawing his hand back and straightening his setting. ‘I think it was my mother’s way of tackling his workaholic nature. She’s a psychologist. Decided all she had to do to get him to switch on to giving me attention was to say my name. Case wants you. Spend some time on Case.’
‘Did it work?’
‘Yeah, pretty much.’ He shrugged, picking up the bottle of wine from the ice bucket. ‘Unless there was a case more important.’
‘Case priorities?’ she said softly, fighting a smile. She was glad her mother wasn’t the only strange one in the world. ‘I’m sorry… I do know the feeling.’
‘Your dad’s into work in a big way?’ Case asked, filling her glass.
‘Yes. He was.’
‘Was? He’s retired?’
She glanced around the busy restaurant—the tables all full, the soft murmur of couples doing little to ease the tension that pounded in her chest. ‘Deceased.’
‘I’m sorry. How did—’
‘So am I.’ Tahlia gripped her glass. ‘Is your dad retired?’
‘No. Still working, much to my mother’s dismay. She’s got a list a mile long of all the places she wants to go to, all the things she wants to see, and still he keeps on working.’
‘That’s sad. Does she have hobbies?’ she rushed on, eager to get as far from the issue of her father as quickly as possible.
‘Yes. Me.’
Tahlia couldn’t help but smile, relief washing through her at his dropping the subject of her father. ‘Let me guess… You’re her only child and she’s trying to get you married off so you can give her grandchildren, probably contacts you…almost daily…to ensure her plight is foremost in your mind at all times.’
Case laughed. ‘Spot on. How did you know?’
‘I’m an only child too.’ And she’d been hoping for years that her mother would start behaving like everyone else’s and care about that stuff. Now she was… Tahlia wasn’t so sure she liked it.
‘And your mother is after grandkids?’
Tahlia took a sip of the deep bold claret. ‘Always on my back.’ He didn’t have to know it was all about work, at least until tonight.
‘I guess it’s
