Nailed - Opal Carew Page 0,3
to one of ambivalence.
He had to stop from chuckling. She’d always thought she could hide her emotions, but he’d always been able to read her like an open book.
The restaurant had provided Kane with a small buzzer that he’d put in his pocket. It allowed him to signal the staff with a push of a button when they were ready for the next course. It also meant they would be interrupted only when Kane signaled they were ready, which allowed him privacy to discuss his proposal with her after dinner.
He pushed the button and moments later, the waiter returned with their shrimp cocktail.
River had clearly decided that not talking was the best course of action, and he allowed her that option until after the salad.
When the main course arrived—chateaubriand and lobster tails, which he knew she loved—her eyes widened. He realized it was because she probably knew how much it cost. Knowing River—and he did—she would have looked up the menu online before she came and would know that the chateaubriand alone was into the three digits. Add the lobster and the other courses and the meal was probably close to a week’s pay for her. That wasn’t even counting the bottle of wine, which doubled that amount.
The waiter served the food from the beautiful platter onto their plates, then refilled their wineglasses. A moment later, he disappeared out the door.
Kane leaned forward. “River, don’t worry about the cost of the meal. I’m paying for it.”
Her wide blue gaze darted to his, looking thankful at first, then shifting to determined.
“No, it’s my responsibility to pay for dinner.”
“Actually, it doesn’t say that anywhere in the agreement. So I believe it’s my prerogative to pay if I choose.”
“But—”
“If you insist on paying for dinner for me, then we can go to a roadhouse for a second dinner and we’ll count this as a rehearsal dinner.”
“A rehearsal dinner? It’s not like we’re getting married.” Instantly her cheeks flushed a deep rose color.
He laughed. “Really? Talk of marriage so soon? We’ve barely gotten started renewing our connection. Give us a little time.”
She practically growled. “We aren’t renewing anything. Once this dinner is done, I’m gone and we never see each other again.”
“Well, no, not really.”
* * *
River’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I didn’t just buy this dinner opportunity with you. Did you notice how quickly your campaign hit the target?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, her stomach tightening. Please, don’t let him say that—
“I bought all the options.”
Oh, God, he’d said it.
“All of them?”
“That’s right.”
The superb taste of the chateaubriand soured in her mouth. She put down her fork and stared at him.
“What are you going to do with five hundred bottles of nail polish?”
The option rewards had basically been choices of nail polish. The lower-cost options included a single bottle of polish, the middle level included packages of the basic shades of the collection, and the high-level rewards were sets of the whole collection, which included the special top coats. Altogether, that would be about five hundred bottles.
Her heart sank. She’d been so happy that so many people would be trying her nail polish and hopefully love it and want to come back for more. She’d seen this as a way to grow her clientele. But because of what Kane had done, she’d reached only one client, and he didn’t even care about the polish. He had just used this as an opportunity to trap her into seeing him again. Altogether the campaign had raised twelve thousand dollars, including this dinner, and after expenses—including the huge outreach to bloggers as she’d intended—she would be left with enough to buy more supplies and get a kick-ass Web site set up, and do some promotion, but without that base of clients …
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll build a special room for them. I can have you come and organize them for me.”
She quirked her eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
“So how many nail polishes do you have?” he asked.
She shifted in her seat. “In stock, you mean?”
“No, I mean personally.”
Oh, God, she didn’t want to reveal her quirky obsessiveness. “Um … I have a few.”
His grin broadened. “Come on. Tell me.”
She pursed her lips. “Well … about … uh … fourteen hundred.”
He chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Well, for someone who is tight for cash, that’s a lot of money tied up. Each bottle is what … twenty-five dollars?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding? Sure, a bottle of Louboutin