his glass. ‘Thanks, but look, I’m sort of attached…’
Roxanne’s chest tightened. What now? Did that win him the grand prize of Heather Moreton?
She wasn’t used to this. This wasn’t her. She’d never initiated a date or anything with a guy. She’d taken the easy route, waiting until they showed interest in her and she was in the position of saying yes or no to them, not this way round.
She wasn’t good with rejection.
‘I hear the restaurant is good here,’ she offered, swinging back to her drink and taking a gulp. Better that she look uncommitted to the outcome…and better make sure that she appeared to have the message loud and clear, on tape.
Solid proof for the client.
‘Yes, it’s one of the best,’ he said easily. ‘The spinach and feta cannelloni is extremely nice…it’s my favourite.’
She turned to him, daring to look at the guy again. What the heck. If she wasn’t going to go all out tonight and test the man, she never would. ‘I love Italian.’
‘Me too.’
A silence descended between them. He seemed happy to sit quietly with his drink while she tortured herself over what in heaven she’d say next to get the job done right.
‘Nice weather we’re having,’ she offered, her cheeks heating annoyingly, lifting her gaze to meet his as the book said to do.
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘If we’re lucky it’ll rain all week while we work and be sunny for the weekend.’
‘You have plans?’ she blurted. ‘For the weekend?’ She glanced back at her drink and started plucking the rest of the fruit off the rim. ‘Not that I’m thinking of going wherever you do to initiate another very embarrassing conversation with a total stranger…’
He laughed. ‘I can’t say I thought that for a moment. There’s an exhibition at the gallery in the city with photos of architectural periods in the twentieth century.’
Roxanne nodded, thankful for the rescue from a fit of babbling that she could have drowned herself in. ‘Sounds interesting. I like the baroque period myself, but I’m guessing it’s a bit old to make it in.’
He raised his brows, nodding. ‘There are some baroque-like influences in the twentieth century architecture. There’s that building in the city—’ He stopped short, jerking his attention to his glass, swirling the contents.
She leant towards him. ‘What?’
He looked up, meeting her gaze. ‘Sorry. I get carried away.’
The urge to touch his arm was incredible. She figured that Nadine would have without hesitating, to test the guy, but she was frozen in her seat. ‘I’m interested,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re into architecture?’
‘I’m an architect.’ He offered his hand to her. ‘Cade.’
‘Roxanne,’ she said, joining her hand with his large strong one, slipping her fingers around his palm, absorbing the warmth and the strange tingling sensation.
‘And what do you do?’ he asked, wrapping his fingers around hers and holding.
Roxanne moistened her lips, fighting to stay focused. ‘I’m an office manager. Usually I work for small companies like real estate agents but at the moment—’ She caught herself. Idiot. How could she forget why she was here?
She stared at where her hand was still encompassed by his, his warmth slowly working its way up her arm and spreading through her like sunshine on a winter’s day.
Even if he appeared nice and kind now, he was still a man, like every other man, and would disappoint Miss Moreton…
She met his golden gaze. ‘At the moment I’m fine-tuning my skills at creating embarrassing silences, dishing out corny pick-up moments and collecting incredibly sad and pathetic rejections from really nice guys…who are already attached.’
‘What can I say?’ he murmured softly, the deep rumble of his voice echoing through her as he deftly pulled his hand back. ‘I’m incredibly flattered by your corny pick-up line and the fact that you’d go out of your way to offer it to me. That takes a lot of courage, you know.’
She nodded and took a long drink from her glass, savouring the sweetness and the bite that would make her feel better. ‘I know.’
‘I haven’t noticed any embarrassing silences… The quiet moments in our conversation have been opportunities for me to contemplate how beautiful you are and how many men would fall over backwards to get the sort of attention you’ve shown me.’ He leaned forward a little. ‘Can I ask, why do you feel you need to make the first move? You can’t be short of offers.’
Roxanne stared at him, his words melting over her. He thought she was beautiful? And what was it with him being so nice? This was all wrong.
‘That’s sweet of you, and I’m not short of offers,’ she said smoothly, ignoring the chaos inside her. ‘Just short of the right guys offering.’ She closed her eyes on the vision of a plethora of men and their propositions flooding in on her and just how many had turned into disasters.
She opened her eyes, meeting Cade Taylor Watson’s fine golden eyes that were watching her with a tenderness that belied his words.
Would it be out of the question to keep him if Heather didn’t?
She blinked and took another large gulp of her drink. Where had that come from? ‘And are you committed to someone special,’ she blurted, trying one more time for the coup de grâce, ‘or are you just attached tonight and you’re mostly single, available and looking for a date for the photo exhibition?’
‘I have a date.’
‘But—’ She could feel the icy fingers of rejection sliding through her again, and she didn’t want it, not yet. She wasn’t ready to end this conversation with Cade and give in to the fact that he was actually nice and Miss Moreton could go ahead and marry him. ‘I like you,’ she blurted.
Cade glanced at his watch and stood up, looking down at her, his face sober. ‘I like you too.’
This was it. She mentally crossed her fingers and toes, willing the outcome she was paid to get.
‘You’re a lovely person and I could always do with another friend,’ he offered, his tone soft.
‘Story of my life,’ she murmured. He was the perfect gentleman. She closed her eyes, imagining how thrilled the client would be at the news, fighting the odd sensation trying to smother her.
She’d wanted him to choose her.
If Cade Taylor Watson had chosen her everything would have been okay. She could keep going in life knowing men couldn’t be trusted and make her decisions accordingly. Now she was confused about everything except the fact that Heather Moreton was one lucky woman.
Roxanne felt him stiffen beside her.
She looked up.
His
