I tucked the card back in my pocket, and gave myself a firm talking-to. It’s not a date, Toni. He said he wants to talk to me. It’s not a date.
But my heart continued to do flip-flops of desire through the afternoon, and my mind wondered how an app developer could have found out I’d designed a new app in my mind when I’d not told a single person.
So, when I did get home, I was a mess of conjecture and still didn’t know what I was going to wear. Well, I did, of course. There was only one possible choice. I had one dress that a school friend had bought me to wear when I was her bridesmaid a couple of years ago. It wasn’t a proper bridesmaid dress, and was swirly enough to look like a party dress too.
I’d hardly ever worn it, and once I slipped it over my head, I felt really uncomfortable in it, not at all myself. But I stared at myself in the tiny mirror, having done the best that I could. I dug out the matching clutch purse, and dropped in a tiny notebook and pen. If this was a business talk, I was ready. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror again. My shining eyes and reddened lips were outward evidence of my inner excitement. I was off to see the Hon. Mr. James.
I decided to enjoy myself.
When I got to the front door, and I saw the large, low limo waiting, I felt like Cinderella ready for the ball, and the driver leapt out and opened the rear door for me. “Miss Chapman,” he murmured, and I seated myself on the expanse of dark leather, smiling nervously.
When he opened the door for me at the restaurant, I was shaking with nerves. I looked at the huge ornate entrance, the uniformed doormen, and the waiter with the napkin over his arm.
I clutched my purse very tightly. I wondered if they’d look at me like I’d crawled out from under a rock, and say I wasn’t wanted.
Toni
But I was. The doorman approached and said, “Ms. Chapman, please come this way.” His polite, grave manner and respectful glance was a world away from my usual life, and I felt taller, more confident.
The waiter led me through to a quiet, candle-lit balcony. James was standing beside the table, waiting for me. He smiled and came forwards.
“Thank you for coming, Toni. I know you must be tired after work.” He nodded the waiter away, and held the chair for me. My heart was pounding. This whole place was so surreal compared to what I was used to.
“Thank you.” I didn’t know what to call him, and looked down. The place setting glittered, there was more silverware than I could ever have imagined, and I could feel my breathing tighten.
He leaned forward from his seat opposite me. “Don’t worry. Nobody will be bothered if you do something differently to the way I do it. I just want you to relax and enjoy the evening.”
I glanced up. His face was open and his eyes on mine were understanding.
I took a breath. “How did you know where I lived? Have you been following me?”
He sat back, looking at me cautiously. “I’m sorry, it must look strange to you.” He smiled slightly. “I hope once I’ve told you what I need to, then you’ll understand how this all came about.”
He nodded to the waiter, who approached with the menus and wine list. Then he turned to me. “But let’s order first, or it’ll get very late.” He didn’t open the wine list.
“We’ll have a bottle of the special champagne please, Ralph. Then —” He looked over at me. “Would you like a soft drink too?”
I nodded. “I’d like a Coke, please.”
I watched as the slight expression of distaste crossed his face. I was sure he thought he was totally expressionless, and I tried not to let my lips twitch.
“And a cola for the lady. We’ll choose the wine when we know what we’re eating.”
“Sir.” The wine waiter bowed away.
“Well?” James was looking over at me thoughtfully.
“Well, what?” I was a bit suspicious.
“What did you think was so funny when I was placing the order?” he said.
I smiled properly. “It was you thinking you didn’t look disapproving when I asked for Coke.”
His chuckle was low and sexy and went straight to my core. I dropped my head, hoping he wouldn’t see my instant arousal. For God’s sake, I told myself. You don’t know him. You can’t get involved.
When I looked up, the drinks had arrived. The maitre d’ was opening the champagne, and he’d obviously had a lot of practice. The cork went on a side plate next to James, and I watched as what was obviously a practiced ritual resulted in a crystal glass of clear champagne each. I also had a cut glass tumbler with ice and virtually a fruit salad floating in the Coke.
Then it was time to order. I followed James’ lead, still unsure why I was there, and anxious to get to the conversation.