Page 73 of Boss of the Year

And yet, I still felt safe. How was it possible to feel small and protected and completely overwhelmed all at once?

Even more confusingly, when Lucas regained composure and released me, I didn’t feel relief. More like something was missing.

“Pardon,” he murmured as he took the dish towel with him to the other side of the kitchen, putting four feet of counter solidly between us.

When I finally managed to turn around, he was eating his breakfast as if nothing had happened, nodding politely when I set his coffee in front of him.

“So,” he said. “The beach, huh?”

I resisted the urge to get some ice and press it to my brow. “Oh. Yes. I decided to take your advice.”

“My advice?” he asked around a bite of açaí and granola. “This is excellent, by the way.”

“About exploring.” I kept my eyes fixed on the counter, not trusting myself to look at him directly. “And thank you. It’s our last full day here. I shouldn’t need someone to hold my hand every time I drum up a little courage. So, yesterday, I asked Robbie to find me a swimsuit?—”

“Apparently, he wants a raise,” he muttered.

“—and then asked Fabiano to take me to Santos for the day.”

Lucas looked up. “You’re going out?”

I felt the color rise in my cheeks again. “I—yes, actually. I decided to be a bit braver. Our little walk, well, I suppose it inspired me.”

Something softened in his expression. “Good for you, Marie. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Don’t worry.” I gathered the things for his lunch. “I’ll be back before dinner. I wouldn’t leave you without?—”

“No need for dinner tonight,” Lucas interrupted.

I frowned. He had already known the meal plan. Tonight was the grand finale of my Brazilian experiment: a richbouillabaisse-moquecastew with sea bass I was planning to pick up in Santos. The saffron stock had been slow-cooking overnight.

He was watching me again with his intense focus that made me feel like I was the only person in the world. But something else flickered that I hadn’t seen before.

Was Lucas Lyons nervous?

“There’s a formal dinner I have to attend,” he said as he ran the towel through his hair. “Policy crowd, the sort of thing where they serve tiny portions of overcooked food and everyone talks about taxes. I’m sure the stew you’ve planned is a thousand times better, and I’ll want it on the flight to Tokyo if it transports. But I’m expected to attend this function.”

I nodded as I mentally reconsidered my plans for the day. “All right. I’ll make sure it’s packed up and heated correctly?—”

“No, Marie. I’m saying I need a date.”

I froze. “A date?”

“Correct. Someone to sit beside me, make polite conversation, laugh at terrible jokes when I can’t do it anymore. This is the type of event where showing up alone sends the wrong message, and I can’t have that.”

“Oh.” Briefly, I wondered why he was telling me this. “Isn’t Robbie the one to help here? If he can find me a bikini that actually fits in two hours, I’m sure he could locate a Brazilian matchmaker for the rich and famous or something like that.”

“No, sweetheart.” Lucas’s hand landed on mine. “I’m askingyouto come with me.”

The words reverberated through the air like a newly rung gong.

Mouth agape, I stuttered. “What? Why—why me?”

His eyes flickered down my body, then back up again almost immediately, as if he didn’t want me to remember that he thought I was attractive but couldn’t quite hide it either. He was quiet, studying my face as if making a decision.

“Because I’d rather go with a friend, not a stranger.”

Friend.Not employee. Not the cook. Not Daniel’s little infatuation.