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If he wanted to take her to lunch, it was only fair that he foot the bill. She didn’t even want to be there in the first place.
Actually, that wasn’t strictly true. She wasn’t sure she should be there. Wanting was a whole different question.
The waiter who showed them to a quiet table for two had a real French accent. A warm, golden light cast a subtle glow over the room and the furniture was quaintly mismatched. Jordan jumped in front of the waiter to pull out Loretta’s chair.
She sat down, enjoying the attention. It seemed like Sean was the only man who’d noticed her existence in the past year and that was hardly anything to get excited about. Nothing was going to happen with Jordan, so it was safe to sit back and bask in his attempts to win her over.
Plus she was about to get a pretty good meal out of it.
After presenting them the menus, the waiter asked if they’d like a jug of water and disappeared to fetch it.
“So, Loretta from the bank. What do you actually do there? When you’re not being robbed.”
“I’m the assistant manager.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Impressive.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m self-employed. A little of this, a little of that. Whatever comes up.”
“That sounds dubious.” It just slipped out. She must have been tipsy.
Fortunately, he took it in good spirits and laughed. “Not really. Imports and exports mainly. I suppose I act as a fixer for people – getting rid of what they don’t want and getting them stuff they do.”
“Very mysterious.” The more he said, the more suspicious she got. Men with so much charm were rarely on the level.
He picked up his menu and she looked at hers.
“Shall we split a bottle of wine?”
“Probably not a good idea.” She glanced at the clock. Not even two. And she was already feeling the effects of the rum and coke.
“I thought you said you’ve got the rest of the day off.” He leaned in over the table and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
But she wanted to spend a couple of hours on Edna when she got home. She’d barely be able to hold a screwdriver after half a bottle of wine. Something told her he wouldn’t want to stop there either. “I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Like what?”
She decided on the rib-eye with Béarnaise sauce, put down her menu and folded her arms. He was rather too confrontational for her liking. “What about you? Where were you going when you knocked me over?”
“Just running some errands.”
More evasion. The waiter returned to take their order. Jordan asked for a bottle of Chateau de Somewhere-she’d-never-heard-of and two glasses, making her bristle. “I think I’ve made a mistake.” She pushed her chair back, ready to stand. “I should leave.”
“Wait. What did I do?”
She got to her feet, but paused, watching him. He seemed genuinely confused.
“You’re used to getting away with this shit, aren’t you?”
“What shit?”
“The charming, alpha male bowling them off their feet.”
At least he had the decency to look cowed.
“You’re not interested in me. You just want your ego stroked.” She’d been stupid to ignore her instincts. Snatching up her bag, she stepped away from the table.
He jumped up to stand in her path.
“You’re wrong.” He looked down at her, his bright, blue eyes stopping her cold. Something passed between them – nothing more than the ghost of a feeling, but it was enough to set her wondering.
“Let’s start again. Have a leisurely lunch together with a real conversation.” His earlier bluster faded into the background. What was he really like under all that machismo?
She wavered. It wasn’t every day that she got the chance to eat in Viande. Especially not with such a handsome companion.
But handsome wasn’t everything.
They both sat back down. The waiter brought the wine. Jordan tasted it and proclaimed it fit to drink.
“None for me, thanks.” She covered her glass with her hand and the waiter placed the bottle in the middle of the table.
Jordan surprised her by changing the subject. “Actually, I was on my way back from doing some business when I ran into you.”
“What sort of business?” If he dodged this question, she definitely would get up and go home.
“Arranging a deal with a wholesaler. He’s interested in taking one of my new lines of stock.”
“What do you sell?”
“All sorts of stuff – whatever I can make a profit with.”
The bread and olives arrived and Loretta picked at a roll while trying not to look too suspicious. He still didn’t want to tell her what he did. So what exactly did he have to hide? She decided to give him one last chance. “And what were you selling to the wholesaler?”
“Baby monitors.”
“Baby monitors?”
“Uh-huh. Teddy bear ones.”
She failed to hold back a snort of laughter.
“What?” He smiled at her and popped an olive into his mouth.
“That’s the big secret you’ve been dancing around?”
“It’s not a secret. The mark-up’s amazing on those things. Even at wholesale prices.”
“Okay.” Baby monitors. She’d been imagining fake Rolexes or dodgy DVDs. It was still possible he wasn’t telling the truth. She watched him butter a slice of French stick. No. If he was lying, he would have gone for something more glamorous.
The conversation flowed more smoothly after that. By the time their steaks were in front of them, she’d found out he was an only child who’d moved there nearly three years ago with his ex-girlfriend.
Loretta told him how the bank had sponsored her through her degree and that she was working towards being promoted to manager. Somehow, they got onto the subject of Edna and she found herself pouring out all the details of how her dad had helped her buy the old girl and got her started with the restoration.
“She’s the same model as the first car he bought when he moved over here from Jamaica.”
“He must have had a damn good job.”
“No. He just worked hard.” He’d soon had to sell the car once he got married and had Loretta. “I’m trying to get hold of a front grille at the moment.”
“No luck?”
“Not so far.” It was probably just as well. She was spending way too much money on parts.
“I might know someone who could help with that.”
“Really?”
“I’ll make some calls.”
She was about to show him a picture of the work in progress when someone shouted out his name.
A tall, statuesque blonde stomped her way through the restaurant and came to stand beside the table.
“Gina, what are you doing?”
Loretta sank down in her chair, wishing she could teleport.
“Bill told me you were out with some tramp, but I didn’t believe him.” She glared at Loretta, put her hands on her hips and fixed Jordan with a look that came within inches of searing the flesh off his bones. “More fool me.”