The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1) (17 page)

“I’ll have Kurt circle the airport until the gauge hits empty.” His voice sounded drowsy too. “There’s always a little in reserve for landing.”

The hum of the jet engines and the hiss of the air circulating in the cabin spun a cocoon of suspended time around them. Chloe had no idea whether it had been minutes or hours when Nathan stirred and murmured by her ear, “The ‘Fasten Seat Belts’ sign just came on.”

“Can’t you just fasten your seat belt over both of us?”

“I could, but Kurt and Sarah would get an eyeful when they came out of the cabin after we landed.”

She moved her hand to his chest to push herself upright. As she shifted her position, her thigh brushed against Nathan’s cock and she realized he was hard again. “Oops, not much we can do about that right now.”

“There’s always the limo ride to the restaurant.”

Chloe choked as she shook her skirt down and smoothed the crumpled sateen while he straightened his own clothing. The plane banked and she practically fell into her seat, hastily buckling the seat belt.

Then they were on the ground and Nathan was escorting her to a black limousine parked on the edge of the tarmac. She caught a brief whiff of the sea as he handed her into the car.

She slid across the seat to let him in beside her, shivering a little when the car’s heater chased away the chill of the northern wind. As he sat and stretched his long legs out, he said, “I was joking about the limo ride.”

Chloe relaxed. She was still dubious about that thin partition between the driver and the backseat providing any privacy. “Maybe on the way back to the airport,” she said.

He put his arm around her shoulders to pull her close as the limousine glided into motion. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he said, “After the oysters.”

Chloe let her hand rest on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle under her palm. She let her gaze trace down the length of his leg to the polished black loafers. A shiver of delight shook her as she felt his fingers playing in her hair where it fell over her shoulder. It was almost too much to bear, this sensual onslaught.

She forced her brain to begin to function on a less primitive level. “You said you were working on the Prometheus project. What happened?”

His fingers stilled. “I couldn’t focus on paperwork so I decided to try a change of scene.”

“Why couldn’t you focus? Are you still not feeling up to par?” She kept forgetting he’d been ill only four days before.

A pause as though he was debating what to say. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low. “I kept imagining you. On the desk. On the conference table. On the sofa. Against the wall.”

“Oh.” She felt a warm, melting sensation between her legs as she imagined the same thing, only from her point of view. She cleared her throat. “So you went down to the R and D lab?”

“Since I was already frustrated, I decided I might as well.”

She tilted her head to discover a slight smile curling his lips. That made her brave. “And what did you find out there?”

“The team is dedicated, brilliant, and young. They have some great ideas, but they missed a few key steps.”

“So you fixed Prometheus?”

He laughed. “Your faith in me is touching. I made some suggestions.”

“How did you feel about being there?”

“Feel?” Surprise colored his voice.

“Did you enjoy being back in the lab?”

She thought he wasn’t going to answer her question. Then he shifted slightly on the seat. “Yes and no.”

“That’s definitive.”

“It felt like my brain was firing on all cylinders for the first time in years. But the technology—” She could feel him shake his head. “I might have left it too long.”

“You’re not going to let a few new gizmos chase you away, are you?”

“Virtually every tool in there was four generations newer than anything I’ve used.”

“So you just need a refresher course,” she said lightly. “Geniuses can learn anything.”

She sensed another head shake. “I won’t stop you from calling me that as long as it extends into the bedroom.”

“And your office,” she said.

The limousine made a sharp turn and thudded over what sounded like a wooden bridge. Chloe leaned across Nathan’s wide chest to peer out the darkened glass of the car. “Where are we?” She could see water beside them and a rocky shoreline dotted with bare trees and a few sprawling shingled houses.

“On the causeway leading to the restaurant.”

The limo continued onward a few minutes and then stopped. As Nathan helped her out of the car, the sounds of seagulls crying and waves slapping against rocks surrounded her. The wind was even stronger here, and Nathan wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she shuddered in the cold. They stood in front of a building constructed of classic weathered New England shingles and white wood trim, but with huge arched windows that glowed with a golden light. “The Weather Vane Inn” was painted in block letters on a small wooden sign affixed to a white post.

“So you just have to know this is here,” she said.

“It functions on word of mouth,” Nathan said, leading her to the dark-blue front door. “Nothing more is necessary when the food and setting are this good.”

Chloe inhaled, closing her eyes as the scents of ocean and haute cuisine mingled deliciously in her nostrils. “Mmm. Nothing more than smelling it is necessary.”

The door opened as they approached. A small, wizened man in a perfectly fitted dark suit said, “Welcome, Ms. Russell and Mr. Trainor. We’re so glad you could join us this evening.” His accent was pure Maine.

He turned and led them through a whitewashed foyer furnished with a round polished wooden table topped with a huge vase of fresh flowers. Arched doors led out to the dining area that held widely spaced tables covered in cream linen under large, gracefully curved pewter chandeliers. Although the effect was meant to be elegant simplicity, something about the sheen of the tablecloths and the brilliant sparkle of the glassware exuded a sense of no expense being spared. Chloe eyed a place setting as they passed a table and was relieved to see all the utensils were recognizable.

The maître d’ led them to a table by one of the arched windows. Chloe suspected it was the most desirable view in the restaurant, since she could see the lights of the charming seaside town, as well as the pink, yellow, and orange of the sunset sky reflected and fractured on the waves of the sea. “It looks like a painting,” she breathed as Nathan waved their guide aside and held the chair for her.

“I timed it so we could arrive at sunset,” he said, his palms briefly caressing her shoulders. His touch sent a ripple of delight dancing across her skin.

He sat down across from her. As she turned from the view to look at him over the low bowl of flowers between them, she could barely catch her breath. His hair shone like burnished bronze; the planes of his lean face caught light and shadow like a sculpture; and the clear, masculine lines of his lips made her want to trace them with her fingertips. But it was his eyes that knocked her sideways. Their gray depths held brilliant intelligence, banked desire, and a focus that was entirely on her.

Nathan frowned as Chloe seemed to freeze when he looked at her. “Is everything all right?”

He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “Fine. It’s all fine.” She still looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“I’m not convinced.”

Chloe grabbed her water goblet and took a gulp. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

Nathan looked around the room, seeing nothing but tables, chairs, and white-painted walls. The pewter chandeliers were shiny but not ornate. “It’s just a restored seaport inn. Nothing fancy.”

Chloe made a small choking sound and held up her water glass, turning it so the crystal glittered with tiny rainbows. “It looks simple, but it’s the kind of simple that costs a lot of money.”

Her reactions were so different from other women’s. His previous dates pretended not to notice where he took them or how they got there, but he could always see the calculations going on behind their masks of indifference. Chloe was frank in her appraisal of what things cost, and faintly disapproving of extravagance.

“This place has the best lobster I’ve ever eaten,” he said. “That’s why I brought you here.”

The rigidity went out of her posture. She reached across the table toward him, her palm turned up. “And I appreciate that.”

He wrapped his fingers around her small hand, and suddenly the table was far too wide. He wished the Weather Vane Inn had banquette seating so he could pull her up against his side, feel the softness of her, breathe in her scent, and twine his fingers into the shining strands of her hair.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because a blush climbed her cheeks and she tugged her hand free to fumble open her menu, breaking contact with his gaze to scan the inn’s offerings. He saw her eyebrows go up, and somehow knew she was noticing there were no prices on her menu. For once, she made no comment.

“Would you prefer mine?” he asked, offering it across the table.

“Sometimes ignorance is bliss.” She went back to studying the menu before she closed it. “In keeping with the theme of simplicity, I’m just going to have a salad and a lobster.”

“You have a choice of how many pounds. And butter or some other sauce.”

“No butter. I want to taste the lobster itself. How many pounds are you having?”

“I’d recommend two two-pounders. I think the meat is better in the smaller lobsters.” He was surprised she had asked for his recommendation. She generally had her own ideas about things. “May I choose our beverage?”

She nodded.

The moment he closed his menu, their waiter appeared at the table to take the order before he sent the sommelier over with the wine list. Nathan already knew what he was ordering, partly because he liked it with lobster, and partly because he knew it would horrify Chloe’s thrifty soul. He scanned down the wine list and said, “Bin thirty-three.”

“What’s in bin thirty-three?” she asked after the sommelier left.

“Dom Pérignon. It’s excellent with lobster.” He didn’t add that it was a highly valued vintage. She might refuse to drink it.

All she did was raise her eyebrows at him.

The server brought two empty champagne flutes and placed them on the table. Chloe reached out to twirl hers between her fingertips. “We have to discuss your father’s wedding,” she said, lifting her eyes from the spinning glass. “Now that we’re, you know, dating, you can’t pay me to go.”

She was so matter-of-fact about her desire to earn money that he was curious to find out why she was turning down a substantial paycheck. “We made that deal before we started our relationship, so it still stands.”

She dropped her gaze to her fidgeting fingers. “It would make me feel like someone from an escort service.”

He could see the logic in that. “You’ll still allow me to finance your clothing for the occasion, though. Otherwise I will rescind the invitation.” He wasn’t going to have his father’s shotgun wedding become a burden for Chloe.

Her glass spun out of her fingers, rolling toward the edge of the table. He caught it as it fell and returned it to its place.

She lifted her chin. “I’ll accept only because I don’t want to embarrass you.”

He looked at her with her cloud of shining gold-shot hair swirling around her shoulders, her huge brown eyes glowing in the candlelight, and the soft curves of her lips compressed with stubborn pride. “I would be proud to have you on my arm, no matter what you wore. However, I look forward to taking you shopping.”

“What? You’re going with me?” she squeaked.

He hadn’t intended to until this moment. “I have strong opinions on female attire.”

She snorted inelegantly. “Female lingerie I can believe, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t know a Prada from a Pucci.”

“Granted, my expertise runs more to SQL and Python. But I know what I like, and I’d like to watch you model it.”

The line of her lips softened. “You have a company to run.”

“I get a lunch hour like everyone else.”

“Ha! That shows what you know about shopping. It will take more than an hour to find the right outfit for such a special occasion.”

Her look of triumph entertained him. “I can give myself more than an hour for lunch, but I’m not sure I can do the same for you, since you report to Flexitemps.”

“I think Judith would understand.”

“So I can pay you for shopping time?”

She went back to fiddling with her glass. “I’m not sure. I have to think about it.”

The sommelier appeared with the champagne, silently twisting the cork from the bottle before he poured a splash in Nathan’s flute. Nathan tasted it and nodded his approval.

After their glasses were filled and the sommelier departed, Nathan lifted his flute. “To Pucci and Python, a good pairing.”

Chloe looked skeptical until she took a sip of the Dom Pérignon. Her eyelids fluttered closed and he could see her rolling the sparkling wine around in her mouth. He wanted to kiss her so he could taste it on her tongue.

She opened her eyes. “Wow!” She took another drink, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated on the flavor.