a Hollywood screen siren. But I could see that now. Oh boy, could I see it. My pulse still raced from Emmy’s chauffeuring skills, and now it sped out of control as I willed my legs to stop shaking. Nick took a step towards me, and I tilted my head up to get a better look at him. He had to be over six feet tall. My eyes paused mid-chest as his shirt stretched over pecs that spoke of a gold-plated gym membership, then I forced myself to focus on his face. Chestnut eyes looked lazily back at me from under messy dark brown hair. He used a hand to sweep it away from his forehead and smiled.
Oh wow. Dimples. He had dimples.
I smiled back, an automatic reflex, then caught myself. What was I thinking? I hated this man! He’d tried to kill me less than twenty-four hours ago. Sadly, nobody had told my body that though, and heat flooded south in a way I’d never quite felt before.
Fortunately, Emmy chose that moment to step forward, and Nick pulled her into a hug, leaning down to kiss her hair.
“Missed you, baby,” he murmured.
“Missed you too.”
Well, this was awkward. I didn’t know where to look during their special moment, and I was studiously pretending to gaze out of the window when Emmy pulled back and poked Mr. Goldman in the chest.
“Right, now you can apologise to Lara.”
He flashed another grin, sheepish this time. “Lara, I’m sorrier than I can say for scaring you last night. I was half asleep, and I got a shock seeing you there when the house was supposed to be empty.” He paused to glare at Emmy. “I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. Can we start over?”
My brain screamed no! No! NO! This is not a good idea! But my inner harlot must have been standing above me like a puppet master because my head started bobbing all of its own accord.
He held his hand towards me to shake. Did I dare to touch it? A hand in no way connected to my sanity reached out by itself and gripped his tightly.
“I’m Lara Reynolds.”
Somehow I forgot to let go, and after a few seconds, I felt a gentle tug as Nick tried to free himself. I came to my senses and stumbled back a couple of steps, at which point I fell over the chair a waiter had helpfully pulled out behind me.
Nick leapt over and caught me before I hit the floor, hauling me up by my sweaty armpits and depositing me upright next to the table. Wow, he was strong. Emmy stifled a giggle, heat flashed up my cheeks, and quite honestly, if dying had been an option at that point, I’d have taken it.
What was wrong with me? This was the second time I’d been for lunch with Emmy and completely embarrassed myself, and I was hardly creating a good impression for the man who would be my employer now that it seemed I might have gone back on my decision to quit.
Emmy, meanwhile, stood perfectly composed and upright on a pair of four-inch designer heels that I could only dream of owning, and now she broke into my thoughts.
“Well, since you two are acquainted, I’ll head off. See you later, Nicky.”
Wait, she was leaving? I belatedly noticed the two place settings at the table, complete with shiny silver cutlery. Was I expected to have lunch with Mr. Goldman by myself? How on earth would I survive that? In his presence, I could barely string a sentence together.
He raised his eyebrows at me, and I realised he’d sat down while I was still standing there like an idiot. I hastily lowered myself, but not without carefully checking that there was actually a chair under my bottom. I didn’t want to land on the floor and look even stupider than I already did.
Once I was seated, I had no idea what to say. Thankfully, I was saved by the waiter who draped a napkin across my lap with a flourish, then presented me with a menu. Oh fudge, what did all these words mean? Was this Italian? What on earth was an insalata mista verde?
“Mixed green salad,” came Nick’s voice, deep but velvety smooth.
Oh flip, I must have said that out loud. “You speak Italian?” I asked stupidly, belatedly kicking myself. Of course he spoke Italian. He’d just translated what I’d said, hadn’t he? I also had a vague recollection of Nadia