a definite edge in her tone. Was she calling him a mama’s boy? Maybe. A little. She tended toward sarcasm when she was nervous or unsure—and he did make her nervous. There was just something about him. Something much too good to be true.
Mr. Bravo-Calabretti either didn’t get her sarcasm—or ignored it. “I do love my mother, yes. Very much. And I admire her, as well.” He studied Sydney for a moment, a direct, assessing kind of glance. “You’re a prickly one, aren’t you?” He seemed amused.
So he had picked up on her sarcasm. She felt petty and a little bit mean. And that made her speak frankly. “Yes, I am a prickly one. Some men don’t find that terribly attractive.”
“Some men are fools.” He said it softly. And then he asked again, “Why are you shopping for pots and pans, Sydney?”
She confessed, “I need a wedding gift for someone at the office.”
His dark eyes twinkled at her, stars in a midnight sky. “A wedding gift.”
“That’s right.”
“Allow me to suggest …” He reached around her with his left hand. She turned to follow the movement and watched as he tapped a red Le Creuset casserole shaped like a heart. “This.” She couldn’t help noticing that he wore no wedding ring. And the casserole? Not bad, really.
“Very romantic,” she said dryly. “Every bride needs a heart-shaped casserole dish.”
“Buy it,” he commanded. “And we can get out of here.”
“Excuse me. We?”
He still had his arm out, almost touching her, his hand resting lightly on the red casserole. She caught a faint, tempting hint of his aftershave. It smelled fabulous—so subtle, so very expensive. He held her eyes, his dark gaze intent. “Yes. We. The two of us.”
“But I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know you.”
“That’s true. And I find that very sad.” He put on a teasingly mournful expression. “Because I want to know you, Sydney. Come to lunch with me. We can begin to remedy this problem.” She opened her mouth to tell him that as far as she was concerned there was no problem and lunch was out of the question. But before she got the words out, he scooped up the heart-shaped dish. “This way.” He gestured with his free hand in the direction of the nearest cashier stand.
She went where he directed her. Why not? The casserole was a good choice. And he was so charming. As soon as the clerk had rung her up, she could tell him goodbye and make him see that she meant it.
The clerk was young and blonde and very pretty. “Oh! Here. Let me help you!” She took the casserole from Rule and then kept sliding him blushing glances as she rung up the sale. Sydney sympathized with the dazzled girl. He was like something straight out of a fabulous romantic novel—the impossible, wonderful, hot and handsome, smooth and sophisticated lover who appears out of nowhere to sweep the good-hearted but otherwise perfectly ordinary heroine off her feet.
And did she actually think the word lover?
Really, she needed to get a grip on her suddenly too-vivid imagination.
“This casserole is the cutest thing. Is it a gift?” the clerk asked.
“Yes, it is,” Sydney replied. “A wedding gift.”
The girl slid another glance at Rule. “I’m sorry. We don’t offer gift wrapping in the store anymore.” She spoke in a breathy little voice. Rule said nothing. He gave the girl a quick, neutral nod and a barely detectable smile.
“It’s fine,” Sydney said. Like her grandmother, she not only bought gifts personally, she wrapped them, too. But she didn’t have time to wrap this one if she wanted to give it to Calista before her wedding trip. So she would need to grab a gift bag and tissue somewhere. She swiped her card and signed in the little box and tried not to be overly conscious of the too-attractive man standing beside her.
The clerk gave Sydney the receipt—but she gave Rule the Macy’s bag with the casserole in it. “Here you go now. Come back and shop with us. Anytime.” Her tone said she would love to help Rule with a lot more than his shopping.
Sydney thanked her and turned to him. “I’ll take that.”
“No need. I’ll carry it for you.”
“I said I’ll take it.”
Reluctantly, he handed it over. But he showed no inclination to say goodbye and move on.
She told him, “Nice chatting with you. And I really have to—”
“It’s only lunch, you know.” He said it gently and quietly, for her ears alone. “Not a lifetime commitment.”
She gazed up into those melting dark eyes and all at once she was hearing her best friend Lani’s chiding voice in her head. Seriously, Syd. If you really want a special guy in your life, you have to give one a chance now and then….
“All right,” she heard herself say. “Lunch.” It wasn’t a big deal. She would enjoy his exciting, flattering attention over a quick sandwich and then say goodbye. No harm done.
“A smile,” he said, his warm gaze on her mouth. “At last.”
She smiled wider. Because she did like him. He was not only killer-handsome and very smooth, he seemed like a great guy. Certainly there could be no harm in giving herself permission to spend a little more time with him. “So. First I need a store that sells gift bags.”
He held her eyes for a moment. And it felt glorious. Just standing there in Macy’s, lost in an endless glance with a gorgeous man. Finally, he said, “There’s a mall directory, I think. This way.” And then he shepherded her ahead of him, as he had when he ushered her to the cashier stand.
They found a stationery store. She chose a pretty bag and some sparkly tissue and a gift card. The clerk rang up the sale and they were on their way.
“Where to?” she asked, as they emerged into the mall again.
“This is Texas,” he said, his elegant face suddenly open and almost boyish. “We should have steak.”
He had a limo waiting for him outside, which didn’t surprise her. The man was very much the limo type. He urged her to ride with him to the restaurant, but she said she would follow him. They went to the Stockyards District in nearby Fort Worth, to a casual place with lots of Texas atmosphere and an excellent reputation.
An antler chandelier hung from the pressed-tin ceiling above their corner table. The walls were of pine planks and exposed brick, hung with oil paintings of cowboy boots, hats and bandannas. The floor was painted red.
They got a table in a corner and he ordered a beautiful bottle of Cabernet. She refused the wine when their waiter tried to fill her glass. But then, after he left them, she gave in and poured herself a small amount. The taste was amazing, smooth and delicately spicy on her tongue.
“You like it?” Rule asked hopefully.
“It’s wonderful.”
He
