The Billionaire Next Door(19)
Whoa.
Flustered, she said, “It’s hot out here.”
“Yeah, it is.”
And didn’t that drawl of his just make it hotter?
Abruptly, he laughed. “You are a blusher.”
“Not usually.”
“Well, then I appreciate your making the effort on my behalf. It suits you.”
Oh…hell. She had to smile at him. Just couldn’t resist looking up into those deep-set hazel eyes and grinning like a fool.
The door to Bastianelli’s opened and a little man with a mustache and a big belly motioned them in with a broad smile. As they stepped into the restaurant, Sean put his hand on the small of her back and she found herself inching closer to his body.
And not because the place was crowded.
As they made their way to the table, Sean leaned down to her ear, the spicy scent of his cologne enveloping her like a caress. “You’ve surprised me.”
“I have?” God, even though they were in a public place, she suddenly felt as though they were all alone. And she liked it.
His chest brushed up against her shoulder blades. “I didn’t know I liked women who blushed. Also didn’t know I liked Ivory soap so much.”
“How did you know I used…”
Her words dried up as his fingertip ran down the nape of her neck. “I can smell it on you.”
Okay, so now hot didn’t cover it. She was inside of a volcano.
The maître d’ stopped by a little table in the corner that had a red candle burning and two place settings on it. “For you! Mange bene!”
As she and Sean sat down, she fumbled with her napkin, aware that she was blushing a little. And that he was looking.
“So how do you feel about red?” he asked, flipping open the wine list.
“Perfect.” She was getting to know the color ever so much better with him around.
“Do you want to pick?”
“No, thanks.” She took a look at her menu and didn’t see a thing. Surely she wasn’t reading into things with him. He’d caressed her neck, for heaven’s sake. “I’ll trust your choice.”
“Lizzie?” When she glanced up, he smiled and said softly, “Just wanted to see the blush. That’s all.”
As her cheeks flamed even further, the waiter came over with some fantastic fresh bread and a plate of olive oil. After the specials were recited, Sean ordered a bottle of wine and they made their selections.
When they were alone, he offered the basket of bread to her. “You know…really, this candlelight suits you.”
It was right then that Lizzie knew for sure…she was on a date.
***
Chapter Five
An hour and a half later, Sean smiled to himself as he put his espresso back down on its little saucer. He couldn’t remember when he’d had a more enjoyable dinner with a woman. He and Lizzie had talked about books and movies and food and music.
And they didn’t agree on anything. Which was the fun part.
“I can’t believe you don’t like any of the Impressionists,” Lizzie said, shaking her head over her cannoli.
“Oh, please.” He smiled more widely. “Rorschach tests and finger painting do more for me.”
“So what kind of art do you like?”
He forked up a little more of his crème caramel. “Medieval. Definitely medieval.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Why so surprised?”
“It’s not what I expected.”
“And what exactly would you expect? Edward Hopper? No, wait, LeRoy Neiman?”
She sipped some of her cappuccino. “Well, I, ah…I’m just surprised you care about art at all. Or know so much about it.” She rushed to qualify. “Not that I think you’re uncultured or anything. It’s just…”
He leaned back in his chair, feeling a little awkward for the first time. “Just that considering where I come from, men aren’t usually into that stuff?”
She winced. “That sounds bad doesn’t it? I don’t mean to offend you or generalize.”
“Nah, it’s okay. Beautiful things should be valued, so I like art. No big deal.”
The awkward feeling persisted. Thing was, he liked that she thought he was just another Joe from Southie, that she seemed to have no clue who he was. He’d been Sean O’Banyon, Big Shot Wall Street Money Man, for so long, it felt liberating to leave that identity behind.
And just be himself.
Except he was leaving a hell of a lot out and that didn’t sit well.