Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(13)

Now, I had to spend my whole lunch break sitting across the desk from him. How was I going to avoid blushing and giggling the whole time? Or worse, just staring at him like a deer in the headlights? I hated being reduced to an airheaded schoolgirl by one stupid dream, but it felt so real.

The next few hours flew by. Before long, I found myself walking down the thickly carpeted hallway that led to Daniel’s office. His door was open a crack, and his assistant was standing by his desk with a notepad open.

“Ah, Ms. Wainright,” he said, gesturing for me to sit. “I was just about to give Alice my lunch order. I was thinking of takeout from Vivian’s - how does that sound?”

“Great, it sounds great,” I replied, after I managed to find my voice. Vivian’s was one of the most expensive steak houses in town. I’d never dreamed of setting foot in the place. But to Daniel, it was probably like going to a sub shop for lunch. No big deal. This lifestyle was going to take some adjusting-to.

“Alice, I’ll have a twelve-ounce Porterhouse with mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus. Medium rare. Ms. Wainright, what about you?”

“Oh, I don’t really…I don’t really know what they have.” Daniel and Alice were both staring at me expectantly, and I felt like I was being tested somehow.

“All the usual,” said Daniel, waving his hand vaguely. “They’ll make you anything. What do you like, steak? Chicken? Seafood? I think I’ve had everything there at least once, I could recommend you something.”

“I’m not picky,” I said, truthfully. “I was going to have mostly-smashed energy bar from the bottom of my purse, so pretty much anything would be a step up from that.”

Daniel laughed, but Alice shot me a haughty look. “Would you rather have something light, then?” said Daniel. “A salad, maybe? Their Caesar with grilled shrimp is really excellent; the dressing is a special in-house recipe.”

“Sure, that sounds fantastic.” I cleared my throat as Alice hurried out of the room with her notepad. “Do you get lunch at Vivian’s often?”

“Just a few times a week.” He was smiling at me, knowingly. “I promise you, my life isn’t all that strange. You’ll get used to it. Which brings me to my next point - I feel we ought to go out on our first official dinner date sooner rather than later. I’m sure the office gossip mill is going to start soon.”

“My cube-mate asked me yesterday why I was spending so much time in your office,” I supplied, trying not to fidget in my seat. But I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his lips, trying to remember if the recreation from my dream was accurate to real life. I could feel a prickling heat travel up the skin on my chest as my eyes travelled along the sleek, polished surface of his desk, remembering how it had “felt” under my body. Almost subconsciously, I had worn a knee-length skirt and blouse very similar to the outfit my brain had conjured up. I still couldn’t really explain why. Did I think it was going to make him notice me? Did I want him to notice me?

The last thing I needed was to harbor a one-sided crush on my fake husband.

“Is it going to be somewhere fancy?” I blurted out, trying to disrupt my very dangerous thought patterns. He blinked at me. “I mean, the dinner date. I don’t really think I have anything to wear.”

“Yes, I was about to ask…” he dug out his wallet and pulled out a crisp off-white business card, handing it to me across the desk. “If you go to this boutique, you should find the staff very accommodating. They have my credit card on file. I’ll call ahead and let them know to expect you. Buy whatever you like. Don’t hold yourself back; you’ll certainly find occasion to wear all of it in the next year.”

I stared at the card. “Thank you.”

He steered the conversation to small talk for the next few minutes, covering everything from the unseasonably warm weather to a funny news article he’d seen that morning. I’d never known him to be this talkative, or this casual, and I found myself growing quieter and quieter. I was still trying to digest the strangeness of it all; trying to picture myself walking into the boutique. I felt like the mere act of shopping there required nicer clothes than I had in my closet.

Alice returned with our food in record time. Daniel was right. The salad was delicious, but I could barely taste it. My eyes kept drifting to his mouth, watching the way it closed around each bite, the way his tongue flicked out to lick his lips clean -

Okay, I had a serious problem on my hands. I just had to hope it would wear off once the memory of the dream faded. Because if this was permanent, the next year of my life was going to be an elaborate form of torture.