compact American-made sedan running as she stepped out of it. She thanked the attendant and watched him take the wheel only to park it a few feet away. Her GMC looked completely out of place parked among all the Lexus, Mercedes, and Cadillacs.
Samantha stepped into the cool interior of the restaurant and let the mouth-watering smell of garlic and herbs wash over her senses. The last time she'd dined in a five star restaurant was with one of her happily married female clients last year. Sam had given up fine dining and opulent living long ago. Some things she missed, and eating something other than pop-in-the-microwave dinners and take out was up there on her wish list.
Before Samantha had a chance to step up to the hostess, a man approached her. "Miss Elliot?"
Strange, he didn't seem to be wearing the required uniform of the staff. Maybe he was a manager.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Harrison is waiting for you."
Must be the manager. Samantha followed the well-dressed man deeper into the restaurant until he led her to a secluded booth with a full view of the Pacific. Blake Harrison saw her and stood as she approached.
Like before, his chiseled features and the way he filled out his designer suit brought a wave of awareness over her skin. He dominated the space by simply being there.
His eyes scanned her frame and a small smile lifted to the corner of his lips. She'd changed into a simple dress, not too casual, but certainly nothing fit for the Oscars. The expression on Blake's face said he approved. Not that she dressed to meet his approval, but she didn't want to appear out of place sitting beside him. She met his eyes and felt a hot current zip up her spine.
"You're late," he said, his voice teasing.
She opened her mouth doing her best guppy impersonation, and then closed it. "Touche."
He smiled. "I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine. I hope you don't mind." Blake waited until she slid into the booth before reaching for the wine sitting in an ice bucket beside him.
She watched him pour the pale liquid into a stemmed glass and did her best not to stare. "Are we celebrating?"
"Perhaps," he said as he shifted the bottle over to his glass.
She wanted to rush and ask him whom on her list he approved of. Of course, he hadn't met the women yet, and she sincerely doubted he'd chosen one.
Blake lifted his glass, and waited until she joined him in a toast. "To a successful business relationship."
A shiver of uncertainty flittered over her hand as she reached for her wine. The way Blake said relationship didn't sit well. After clicking her glass with his, and sipping the wine, Samantha placed her hands in her lap to hide the slight tremor that would give away her feelings.
"I hope your drive wasn't awful."
Okay, so they weren't going to start with business as she'd have liked. Instead of pushing him, she allowed the casual conversation to continue. "PCH is always difficult to traverse at dinner time."
"Thank you for agreeing to meet me here."
"I'm surprised you picked this location. I'd think that a business dinner would be in a place less formal." Less romantic, she wanted to add.
Blake relaxed into the booth. His sinfully handsome features made it nearly impossible to concentrate on the reason she was sitting across from him. It was entirely too easy to wade into his amazing grey eyes and fall into the warmth of his smile.
"It's against my nature to invite a beautiful woman to a bar for cocktails."
Oh, boy, time to swing this train around. Samantha knew she wasn't beautiful, attractive maybe, but the kind of beauty this man was drawn to was way out of Samantha's league. "You're charming, Mr. Harrison, but you're wasting it on me. I take it you've had an opportunity to look at the portfolios my assistant faxed over."
His eyes narrowed but he didn't say a word. Samantha swallowed and clutched her hands together in her lap. Instead of running from his eyes, she met them head on and kept her lips sealed.
It took a waiter stepping to the table to break the tension. The twenty-something server detailed the chef specials while Samantha picked up her menu. This was her client, and etiquette dictated that she be the one to pick up the bill, even if the restaurant was out of her budget. She settled on the swordfish and a small dinner salad and did her best