The rest of her wardrobe was a study in trying not to attract attention. Specifically male attention.
Jensen appeared seemingly from nowhere, melting from the shadows to stand right in front of her. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone dry, because while his dress code at work was business casual, usually meaning a button-up shirt—without a tie—and simple slacks, tonight he was dressed in a black suit that screamed wealth and privilege, and the darkness of his clothing only enhanced what she already knew to be true. That this was a man not to be trifled with. He was someone who could crush her like a bug without any effort whatsoever.
But then he smiled, transforming the harsh lines, the almost cruel beauty of his face, so that he became someone more approachable. Someone who wouldn’t eat her alive. Maybe.
She was a fool for even thinking that. For relaxing her guard even for that rare smile from him. She needed to remember that he was a natural-born predator. Strong. Implacable. And so easily capable of hurting her.
“Glad you made it,” he said easily, cupping her elbow as he steered her farther into the darkened interior.
They walked by larger tables, filled with various business types and others dressed more formally. Couples having intimate dinners, waiters hovering with expensive wine to refill glasses. This was Carson’s world—a world he’d created for himself. But it had never been hers, even if Carson had been determined to share it with her.
He’d been determined to rise above his circumstances and go in the opposite direction from their childhood. And Kylie? She seemed to be in a holding pattern, one she recognized even in her denial.
She’d never stepped fully into the present or even tried to embrace it. She was still too firmly rooted in the nightmare of her past, paralyzed and unable to move past it.
That Jensen had nailed her so precisely on it in her office two days ago only made her more uncomfortable with his scrutiny and those eyes that saw far too much.
Jensen courteously seated her, pushing her chair forward once she’d settled into it, and then walked around to the chair directly across from her. At least he hadn’t taken the seat catty-corner to her. But now she’d be required to actually look him in the eye and meet that intense gaze.
She glanced hastily around, noticing, to her discomfort, how intimate they appeared. A cozy corner in a dimly lit restaurant, no other people occupying the tables nearest to them. It was, as he’d promised, a spot where they wouldn’t be overheard. Had he arranged it so no one else would be seated near them or had he simply gotten lucky?
But no, he wasn’t a lucky sort of man. He wasn’t someone who’d leave anything to chance. He’d arranged this as he did everything else in his life. To his liking and his specifications. A delicate shiver snaked down her spine at the raw power emanating from him. It—and he—scared the holy hell out of her.
Yes, this was supposed to be a business dinner, and by resolving that in her mind, she’d been able to make herself go through with it. But now, sitting here across from him in a decidedly intimate setting, she knew damn well this could have been done just as easily in the office.
She hated that he made her so nervous. Hated admitting that weakness to herself. She’d spent her entire life being weak, though she disguised it by being abrasive and even bitchy. She wasn’t proud of those things, but it was far preferable to ever showing vulnerability to another person.
“Relax, Kylie,” Jensen said, drawing her gaze to his.
She saw warmth in his eyes and pondered that oddity. It wasn’t that Jensen was some heartless, cold bastard. But he’d perfected the look. Anyone would think twice about crossing him. Usually his eyes were impenetrable, showing nothing of whatever emotion he was feeling, if he even had them.
But now? There was an odd tenderness in his eyes and it seemed to be directed at her. It was one beat off of sympathy and that got her back up because the very last thing she wanted from this man was pity.
“Did you just scowl at me?” he asked, his lips twisting in amusement.
“No. Yes. Maybe,” she muttered.
“Relax,” he said again, his tone growing as gentle as his eyes had been just moments ago. “I’m not going to bite you. Unless you ask me to. Nicely,” he added with a grin.
Her scowl deepened before she realized he was merely yanking her chain. Something he did with more frequency ever since coming to work with Dash.
“Maybe I’ll do the biting,” she said with a sardonic smile, not even realizing the sexual connotation until it was too late. She’d envisioned snapping at him like a ferocious dog. Not biting him . . . sexually.