Losing Control - By Robyn Grady Page 0,9

broad. Every available inch of this car seemed filled with the smoldering energy that was Cole Hunter.

Taryn pressed back into the molded bucket seat and clenched her hands in her lap. She'd never felt more unsettled. Never more female.

As they flew over a main arterial and the busy world whirred by, he said, "I'd kill for a good thick steak."

"I thought you'd be a steak man."

"You're not a steak woman?"

"Vegetarian."

"I'm sure my regular place caters for that."

"You mean caters for those of us who choose to live on the fringes."

In the rapid-fire shadows, his crooked grin flashed white. "No disrespect intended. I grew up in a male-dominated household. Tofu and soy weren't in our vocabulary."

Taryn peered out the window. She didn't care about Cole's eating habits. She cared only about getting this proposal through and at last moving forward with this show.

"Guess we're all products of our childhood," she offered absently.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Lots of brothers and sisters?"

"I'm an only child."

His deep rich chuckle resonated around the car cabin, burrowing into her skin, seeping into her bones.

"You must have had a peaceful time growing up," he said.

Peaceful? "I guess you could call it that."

"What would you call it?"

That was easy.

"Lonely."

His hand on the gearshift, he hesitated changing down before he double-clutched then wove into the lit circular drive of an establishment that smacked of class and exorbitant prices. A uniformed man strode over to see to her door before a valet parked the car. They entered through open, white-paneled doors into an area decorated in swirls of bronze and planes of muted cherry-red. The large room's lighting was soft. Inviting.

Way too intimate.

While Taryn tried to concentrate on the weight of her laptop in her carryall over her shoulder rather than Cole's strong chiseled profile, from behind the front desk, the maitre d' tipped his head.

"I'm afraid we weren't expecting you this evening, Mr. Hunter. Your regular table isn't available." The older man's attention slid to her and his helpful smile deepened. "We do, however, have a private balcony setting with a magnificent view of the harbor."

"Sounds good." Cole rapped his fingertips on the leather-bound menu lying on the counter. "And, er, Marco, you have vegetarian dishes here, right?"

Marco didn't blink. "We have a wide selection. Our chef will also be happy to accommodate any particular requests."

As Marco escorted them to that private balcony, Taryn swore she felt heat radiating from Cole's hand where she imagined it rested inches from the small of her back. Then, when they slipped through into a curtained-off area, her breath hitched in her throat. The mixture of lilting music and silver moonlight, along with her striking company for the evening...she felt as if she'd stepped into a dream. She'd been out to dinner with attractive men at fine restaurants before, but this scene - this surreal heady feeling - was something else.

Retracting an upholstered bergere chair for her, Marco asked, "A wine menu this evening, Mr. Hunter?"

Cole rattled off the name of a vintage that Marco's widening eyes hinted was exceptional. A moment later, the curtain was drawn and they were once again completely alone.

Enjoying the atmosphere despite herself, Taryn shifted in the chair, which was more comfortable than her sofa. "I wasn't expecting this."

"You'd prefer an all-you-can-eat salad bar?"

With delicious aromas filling the air, her taste buds had already decided. She opened the menu. "Here will do nicely."

And every one of those dishes listed without prices sounded divine. Still, she would keep in the forefront of her mind that this was not an occasion to forget herself. In fact, she might as well put this idle time to good use.

Having chosen her meal, she set her menu aside and extracted her laptop from her carryall. With a grunt of disapproval, Cole sat back.

"We won't do that now."

"I'd rather get to it before you have a drink or two."

"I can assure you a couple of glasses of wine won't affect my judgment." His lips twitched. "You, of course, may be a different matter."

"I'm not a giggler, Mr. Hunter."

His frown returned. "And ditch the Mr. this and manners that. My name's Cole. You call my father Guthrie, don't you?"

"That's different. We're on friendly terms."

"Really? Did he take you out to dinner?"

She almost gasped. She knew what he was implying. "Of course not."

"Maybe you took him."

She slanted her head. "You won't put me off - Cole. If you want me gone from Hunters, you'll have to drag me out, kicking and screaming."

"Is that what happened at