Page 6

Carys stood very still as the elevator doors closed, trapping her in a confined space with an intensity she could almost taste.

There were four other men in the elevator, but they barely registered in her consciousness.

Every nerve, every instinct was focused on the man beside her.

The tall, intimidating presence that seemed to dominate the small space.

Who was he? Rafi…what was his last name? Her mind raced with questions.

Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat reverberating in the tense silence.

The air felt charged, as if any moment a spark might ignite a wildfire.

She stole a glance at him, his profile sharp and unreadable, exuding an aura of controlled power.

There was something about him that whispered of danger, something that set her on edge.

The other men in the elevator were inconsequential shadows compared to the palpable force of his presence.

The slight, almost imperceptible shift in his stance as the elevator descended only heightened her awareness of him.

Carys’s pulse quickened. She could feel a bead of sweat trickling down her spine.

What was it about him that appealed to her so?

The questions gnawed at her, her curiosity mingling with a primal sense of awareness of her femininity.

The elevator seemed to crawl downward, each second stretching into an eternity, amplifying the tension that coiled tighter with every passing moment.

So many questions popped into her mind. Where was he from? Where had his soft, almost melodic accent come from? Just how tall was he? And what would it be like to kiss him?

Her mind’s eye immediately conjured a scene where they were sitting together at a conference room table while they dug into Chinese food containers.

He’d be next to her so that he could see her sketches.

His knee would bump hers. She’d go very still.

Or maybe they’d both be reaching for the last broccoli floret and…

? Nope, that wouldn’t happen. Carys hated broccoli. He could have all the broccoli. Ick.

She substituted the broccoli with a fortune cookie. They’d both reach for it, their fingers would touch, and she’d smile awkwardly, trying to play it cool.

Except she’d probably end up knocking over the soy sauce, making a mess, and they’d laugh about it. Yeah, that seemed more realistic. She could already imagine him teasing her, making a lighthearted comment about her fortune-reading skills. She snorted in amusement before she could stop herself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, gesturing toward the open elevator doors.

Carys hitched her tote bag higher onto her shoulder. “Nothing important,” she replied, then hesitated, not sure she wanted to get into the big, black SUV waiting by the curb. “What’s that?”

“A vehicle?” he offered slowly, obviously not sure what she was asking.

Carys huffed and stopped. “I know that it’s a vehicle, but…is that a driver?” She tilted her head as if a different angle might change what she was looking at. “Do you have a chauffeur?”

“I have bodyguards,” he corrected, putting a hand to the small of her back, gently nudging her closer to the car.

She glanced quizzically up at him. “Oh, so that many people hate you?” she asked mischievously.

“Hate me?”

Carys shrugged, feeling saucy all of a sudden. “Yeah, people who need bodyguards generally have a lot of enemies.”

He rolled his eyes. On anyone else, the gesture might be annoying. But on Rafi, it looked sexy as hell. Maybe it was sexy because it was combined with a rakish grin. Before she realized what was happening, Carys was sitting inside a very luxurious SUV and he was next to her. Close!

Carys looked everywhere but at the man sitting beside her. He was just too overwhelming, she told herself.

“The uh…I worked on the script for the uh…” she started to say, then forced herself to look at the man next to her. His dark eyes seemed to ignite something inside of her. She was hungry, but not for food. This man…the warmth and scent of him appealed to her in a way she didn’t quite understand.

Before she could decide how to react, the door to the SUV opened and a doorman offered her a hand. “Welcome to The Saint Brasti.”

The Saint Brasti restaurant? No way! It was impossible to get reservations here! Carys and her best friend, Andi, had read about this place. Just last month, they’d bought the ingredients for one of the items on the menu and had laughed at how badly the resulting charred mess had turned out!

But before Carys could argue, to explain how they couldn’t dine here, Rafi stepped out of the car. He came around to her open door, one hand extended toward her, as the doorman stepped back. “Let’s have something to eat before we discuss the marketing campaign.”

“Oh!” she whispered. She was hungry, but was it for food?

With a mental snort, she took the offered hand. Of course, she was hungry for food. What else was there to be hungry for?

But the moment his long fingers closed around hers, Carys knew she was in trouble. The unexpected heat that traveled up her arm was almost shocking. She looked up at him, very aware of how far she had to tilt her head back.

“We should…um…go somewhere else,” she whispered.

“Why’s that?” he asked, his voice lower now. His fingers tightened around hers. Had he moved closer? “I’ve heard excellent reviews about this place.”

“Yes, I’ve heard…great things too.” Had his chest just brushed her breasts?

He nodded toward the entrance. “Then let’s go inside and have some dinner.”

Unfortunately, he took a step toward the doors, leaving Carys feeling strangely abandoned and…wanting.

He tucked her hand onto his elbow, leading her through the shiny, red doors. Carys walked beside him, thinking that she should pull her hand away. But before she could, he pulled her closer, putting his hand to the small of her back. It felt both reassuring and intimate.

“Good evening,” the pompous man behind the wooden podium said, not even blinking an eye at the fact that she and Rafi weren’t in formal attire.

Thankfully, it was a weeknight, so the other patrons weren’t in cocktail attire either.

Friday and Saturday nights, most of the patrons would be heading for the opera or the ballet.

Carys smiled her thanks as the host led them toward a table next to a floor to ceiling window that looked out over the city.

Immediately, a waiter appeared, handing her a leather-covered menu.

Although, as she looked around, she noticed the other female diners wore obviously expensive designer clothes. They definitely hadn’t bought their clothes at the discount retailers. Her dress might have a famous label on the tag, but the name wasn’t a top of the line designer.

“Would you like a cocktail? Or wine?”

Carys lowered her menu to look at the man sitting across the table. Rafi was truly an impressive sight. His broad shoulders were drool-worthy and the rest of him, plus the air of confidence, caught second glances from women they’d passed by.

“I don’t need wine,” she replied, thinking that a bottle of wine in a place like this probably cost more than she earned in a week. “Water is fine.”

“You don’t like wine?”

Carys looked around, noting the modern chandelier and the silk draperies that graced the floor to ceiling windows.

Since the windows were three stories high, the sparkly curtains were spectacular.

However, they were also pulled back to highlight the extraordinary view of the river with the city in the distance.

Everything here sparkled. The waiters walked expeditiously through the tables, the other diners created a low hum of conversation and there was music; a grand piano in a corner being played beautifully.

This was one of the most expensive and sought-after places in the city, and she was here with a gorgeous man.

“I should leave,” she whispered.

Rafi placed a hand on hers. “Carys, you’re starving. I can see it in your eyes.” The sommelier stepped up to their table and gave Rafi a small bow. Without asking her, Rafi decided, “We’ll have a bottle of the Chateau Margaux.” The man said something fawning, then quickly disappeared.

“That sound expensive,” she argued, frowning at him. “Call him back and tell him the house red wine is fine.”

Rafi laughed, leaning back in his chair as he shook his head. “No.”

Carys blinked, glaring at him. “No? Just no?”

He shrugged one shoulder in a very European manner. “No. I like good wine and I’m not going to order the ‘house’ wine by the glass.”

Carys’s eyes narrowed and she subconsciously tilted her head slightly. “Are you a wine snob?”

He chuckled again. “I suppose I am. And I hope that you might become a wine snob after trying the wine I ordered. Once you try it, you’ll never be able to go back to house wines again.”

Carys folded her arms over her chest, resting her elbows on the table. “Then I’m not going to try it.”

“Why would you deny yourself a taste of one of the best wines in the world?”

“The best?”

He grinned. “Okay, maybe just an excellent wine. Not the best.” He leaned forward. “The best vintages are in my wine cellar.”

Carys rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Of course you have a wine cellar.”

He lifted a dark, mocking eyebrow. “You don’t?”

She grunted. “Not only do I not have a wine cellar. But I don’t even have a wine pantry or a wine fridge. In fact, I store my wine in one of those cross-hatched things on top of my fridge.”

He cringed. “You should never store your wine over a fridge. Heat rises from the top of the unit, which alters the structure of the wine.”

Carys laughed, leaning back into her surprisingly comfortable chair. “You’re kind of cute when you’re protecting a bottle of wine that I got on sale at the grocery store.”

He shuddered mockingly, and then the sommelier arrived with the bottle, showing the label to Rafi.

He examined it gravely, then nodded his approval.

The wine pouring ritual started and Carys watched with fascination.

Rafi sniffed, swirled, and then sampled the wine, nodded, then the wine was poured for her as she kept a straight face, watching with suppressed amusement.

Rafi watched her…no, frowned at her, during the entire ritual.

“I’m not going to try it, Rafi,” she told him firmly, crossing her hands in her lap. She was unaware of the playful smile curling her lips or the sparkle of daring in her eyes.

“Why not?”

She toyed with the scarf she wore. “Because if it’s really as good as you say it is, then I’ll love it. And the wines that I currently have stored on top of my fridge are going to taste horrible in comparison. I’ll never be able to drink wine again.”

He threw back his head, laughing at her logic, and warmth washed over her, like stepping out into the sunshine.

His amusement took Carys’s breath away. Goodness, he was gorgeous!

Those high cheekbones and sharp jawline were the kind male models dreamed of having.

But there was a confidence in him that most handsome men could never achieve. It was…intoxicating!

Carys had never had a confident male role model in her life, so she pulled back from Rafi’s allure. In that moment, she knew that she could lose herself in his magic. She’d craved a strong, male figure in her life, one that hadn’t rejected her since she was twelve years old.

“Carys?” Rafi asked, leaning forward. “What just happened?”

Carys fiddled with the silver knife and spoon beside her plate, refusing to look at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.

“One moment, you were laughing with me, and now you look as if you’re about to cry.” He reached out and, for some reason, Carys put her hand in his. His warm fingers wrapped around hers comfortingly. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” she said, dismissing that horrible time in her life.

She’d gotten past her father’s rejection.

She was stronger because she’d learned to be independent.

She lifted her chin and banished the painful memories.

She reclaimed her hand, tucking it under the table but immediately missed the warmth.

“Something obviously happened, but I’m won’t press you about it.” He nodded to the glass of wine. “I will, however, dare you to try the wine, because I truly think you’ll appreciate this vintage.”

Carys eyed him for a long moment. He waited patiently.

She sighed, accepting defeat as she rolled her eyes.

“Fine! But only because I really love wine.” With a sigh, she gave in.

“This might be the only time in my life that I’ll get to taste a really good one.

” She lifted the glass and sniffed, swirling the wine as she’d seen him do.

The “legs” of the wine were pronounced and the aroma…

complex. She couldn’t identify the various scents, but they were compelling.

When she took her first sip, Carys let the flavors flow over her tongue, paying close attention to the different notes. After swallowing, she closed her eyes, sighing at the aftertaste that just…warmed her mouth with hints of pear and berry, maybe a touch of brandy.

“Perfect, right?” he asked, interrupting her nearly orgasmic pleasure.

Carys glared at him over the rim of her glass. “You’re ruining my concentration, sir.”

He grinned, lifting his hands, palms out. “Forgive me. Please continue.”