she demanded. “If you’re going to walk that fast, you’ve got to warn me and I’ll put on my roller skates.”
He chuckled again, a first for him he realized. He hadn’t ever thought of women as amusing before. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He thought some of their attempts to manipulate him were amusing, but those little scenes never elicited any sort of chuckle.
He bent down slightly, his eyes shining as he looked at her flushed cheeks and the sparkle in those green eyes. “I apologize. I’m not used to someone so much shorter than I am,” he came right back. With that, he offered her his arm. “I will endeavor to be more of a gentleman going forward.”
Miranda now knew she should have kept her mouth shut. Touch his arm? Was he kidding? More than half of her breathlessness was because he’d been touching the small of her back!
But now that she’d admonished him for being rude and inconsiderate, she couldn’t very well ignore his arm. She had to act like a lady and take his arm politely. She laid her fingers on his arm delicately, not wanting to touch him too much, afraid of what might happen.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have much of a choice. Apparently, the man didn’t think that her fingertips on his arm was enough. His hand moved up, bringing her hand more firmly onto the crook of his arm, then stopped her fingers from falling away by covering them with his own hand.
“So tell me about yourself,” he said as he walked her into the restaurant.
She wasn’t sure she could think, much less talk. The man was very intimidating up close like this. She’d been afraid of him when she’d been working on the opposite end of the hallway. But touching him? Being only inches from his enormous body? That was real fear making her heart race like a crazy demon. And that was before her fingers discovered that he had some serious muscles underneath all that expensive fabric! She shifted her hand ever so slightly, feeling the bulging biceps, pretending her mind wasn’t reeling with the discovery.
She blinked her eyes, trying to focus on placing her feet one step at a time in the correct placement so she wouldn’t fall flat on her face. But the thought occurred to her that, maybe if she fell, he would catch her….Good grief! She shook her head, admonishing herself for thinking such a ridiculous thought.
“What do you want to know?” she asked as he held the door to, La Malachain, one of the most exclusive restaurants in London. He couldn’t respond since the hostess was gushing over him. Thankfully, the irritating woman quickly led them to a table up on one of the balconies, obviously one of the best in the restaurant. Miranda spread the linen napkin out on her lap with more care than was perhaps necessary, but she needed a few moments to recover her equilibrium. It was completely off balance and all because of him! She didn’t like him, why was she reacting like this?
When she looked up again, she found that he was watching her with amusement and she shifted irritably in her seat. “Okay, so what’s the…” they were interrupted by the waiter arriving.
She ordered a salad, not sure if she would be able to eat anything heavy while in the presence of this man and was glad she had. During the entire meal, he interrogated her about her job, her personal life, her hobbies and her family. Since she was the only child of two parents with regular jobs, it wasn’t like she had a whole stash of secrets to tell him.
By the time the waiter had taken their plates away, Miranda was more than a little curious, and feeling a bit vulnerable since she’d answered so many of his questions but he hadn’t revealed anything personal about himself.
When the meal was finally over and the waiter had left them to enjoy rich, fragrant coffee, she sat up straighter in her chair and put her mental foot down. “So what is this interrogation about?” she asked, her nervousness suppressed as her need for answers took over. She’d ignored the glass of wine he’d poured for her, thinking it was some sort of test. He was the boss, after all. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of his employees drinking during their lunch hour despite the fact that he’d had at least half a glass himself.
Royston leaned back as well, surveying