The Prince's Resistant Lover Page 0,12

neck, disappointed that she was wearing a bra tonight. He’d loved diving under her shirt last night and finding her full breasts free and inviting.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Not a chance,” she came right back. “We’ll just have to dine at a place that allows a more casual experience.”

He raised an eyebrow at her command, amused that she thought she would be getting her way. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

She looked down at her dowdy jeans, rubbing her hands against her hips. “I can change into something slightly more presentable.” With that, she turned around and headed into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Tamar almost laughed at the closed door. He’d seen, touched and tasted every part of her body last night. There wasn’t a place he hadn’t explored but tonight, she needed to close the door to change clothes? Cute, he thought.

She emerged a moment later and he was stunned at the transformation. She’d jumped into the shower, but instead of a head of wet hair, she’d pulled her hair up on top of her head with little tendrils hanging down to frame her delicate features. But the biggest transformation was the pretty pink skirt and shirt. The clothes were still casual, but the jeans were gone. And he thought she looked lovely. He was also touched that she’d gone to the effort of dressing for him. She’d even put on makeup. Not much, just a touch of pink lipstick and mascara which made her blue eyes seem bigger, glowing almost.

“You look lovely,” he said, aware that his voice was a bit huskier as he extended his hand towards her.

She took the hand and he led her out of her apartment. She pulled back slightly when she saw the long, black limousine parked out front with the driver standing at attention by the back door. “What’s this?” she asked, suddenly anxious.

“Transportation?” he suggested, not sure what might be going through her lovely brain now.

“Can’t we just catch a cab?” she asked, trying to pull her hand out of his but he held hers firmly, not allowing her to pull away.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” he replied. “But I promise the vehicle is very safe.”

She sighed, irritated by this latest revelation about their worlds. “Tamar, we’re not…”

He bent down and kissed her, stopping whatever protest she was going to spout next. “Get in the car, Wyndi,” he told her firmly, tugging her hand to encourage her. “It won’t bite, it won’t crash and I haven’t changed from the man I was five minutes ago.”

She got into the car, but her mind was working feverishly, trying to figure out what he was up to. A man like him, with his obvious wealth, simply didn’t date women like her. She was poor, a waitress. She might have a college education, but only because the state paid for it. And because of the struggling economy, she hadn’t been able to find a real job. Well, that and her lack of experience.

Whereas Tamar was obviously an important person with loads of money at his disposal. What could he possibly see in her?

The restaurant they pulled up in front of was one of the finest in Manhattan. It took months to get a reservation here. “We can’t go in there,” she said, eyeing the doorman with trepidation.

He took her hand and tugged gently, his eyes smiling down at her. “Of course we can. We just step out of the car and move our feet forward. I do it all the time.”

She laughed at his teasing, but wouldn’t relent. “You know what I mean. We won’t be able to get a table here.”

Not only did they get a table as soon as Tamar walked in, they were immediately seated at one of the best tables in the restaurant. Unfortunately, the menu was all in Italian. Wyndi had taken Spanish in high school and French in college, but she was lost with the Italian. Tamar must have seen the worried look in her eyes because, when the waiter arrived, he ordered for her in perfect Italian. The waiter bowed down, taking both of their menus before backing up to place their order.

She looked at him with one eyebrow raised over her blue eyes. “What am I getting for dinner?” she asked.

He chuckled at her adorable, irritated expression. “Exactly what you requested. Pasta loaded with cheese and bread smothered with garlic butter.”

The sommelier arrived at that moment and presented a bottle of wine