| |
Victoria
Victoria gaped at the canary-yellow sports car. “This is your car?”
Henry raised an eyebrow, his expression one of puzzlement. “Yes.”
Victoria stared, dumbfounded at the luxury vehicle. “Seriously?”
Nodding, he pulled a gold keyring from his pocket and lifted it toward the sports car.
“It’s a Lamborghini Aventador Roadster,” Victoria gasped, her eyes wide.
“I know. It’s my car.” Henry lowered the key fob clutched between his fingertips to his side. “Is there a problem with it?”
“Absolutely not. It’s a work of art.” Unable to control her enthusiasm, Victoria bounced to the passenger’s side door.
Shoulders squared, Henry pointed the key fob toward the Lamborghini. With his chest protruded out, he reminded Victoria of a peacock, preening and cocky, as he strode up to stand beside her. Twice the headlights flashed in unison to indicate that the doors were unlocked. Then the doors opened into the air, reminding her of an angel’s wings as the long lengths of the steel jutted toward the sky. Henry gestured to the open passenger door. “Please get in.”
Seated on the black leather seat, Victoria removed her gloves and then brushed a finger over the dashboard. “Exquisite,” she murmured under her breath.
“I see you like sports cars.”
“I’ve never seen one of these in person, only in pictures. The craftsmanship is incomparable.” Her head swiveled around as she took in the lush black interior. “It’s gorgeous. I can see why it is referred to as a super sports car.”
Henry’s lips curved into a broad smile, revealing his perfectly aligned set of gleaming white teeth. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Like?” she repeated mockingly and then giggled. “I love it!”
He chuckled deeply.
“What do you think about Lamborghini having a carbon fiber body?”
His smile appeared more pleased than taken aback by her question. He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “Probably a good idea.”
“Probably?” Victoria gave him an incredulous look. “Believe me, it’s a fabulous idea.”
“The lady knows best,” Henry said, sounding impressed, and pulled the throttle.
“Oh. My. Goodness! It’s got to be a dream to drive,” she yelled over the roar of the engine.
“I’m not going to lie to you—it is,” Henry said, his deep laughter warming her.
Lost in a state of awe, Victoria questioned, “Can it really go from zero to one-hundred miles an hour in three seconds?”
“I’ll let you take it out on the highway sometime. Once you’re behind the wheel, you can see for yourself what this baby can do.”
“Oh, hell no.” Victoria shook her head profusely. “This baby is a limited-edition luxury sports car that costs more than I make in a decade.” She flushed, suddenly realizing she’d said too much.
As they sped down the cobblestone street, Victoria peered out the window, admiring the rows of perfectly crafted Christmas displays that lined the historic old quarter of the city.
His deep voice startled as they slowed to a stop at the traffic lights. “You’re awfully quiet.”
Victoria turned her attention away from the window, her heart skipping a beat. Sweet Jesus, he is one fine-looking man. “Just enjoying the holiday lights.” She clasped her hands onto her lap, distressed by her body’s betrayal as heat pooled in areas she’d rather it didn’t.
“Do you like Italian?” he asked.
“Very much,” Victoria answered. Handsome or not, he’s still a snake, she reminded herself.
“There is a new Italian restaurant that opened about a mile from here. Would you like to try it?”
“Oh...um.” Rumor had it that the restaurant was delicious but extremely expensive. Victoria wasn’t sure it was appropriate for him to take her to dinner there.
Henry appeared baffled by her hesitation. “Didn’t you just say you enjoyed Italian food?” He winked. “I know you like Italian cars.”
“I did—I do.” WTF! The man was loaded. Why should she care about the price? If he hadn’t butted into her life in his attempt to steal all she held dear, she wouldn’t be forced to endure this so-called dinner meeting.
He cleared his throat. “Do you have somewhere else you’d like to dine?”
“No. The Italian restaurant is fine.”
“Are you saying that to be amenable? I’ve got no issues going somewhere else if you prefer.”
Her lips curved into a half-smile. “It’s fine.”
“I only suggested it because someone I know mentioned it to me the other day. I’ve never actually been there to know if it’s any good. I’m up for anything. As you’re well aware, I’m still getting acquainted with the area.”
Does he realize he is rambling? Victoria studied him, contemplating his behavior. His perfect lips moved at rapid-fire speed, the words whooshing out on a single breath. “Wherever you want to go, I’ll be happy to take you. Lead the way.”
How about a one-way ticket back to Miami? she thought, playing with the fringe on her scarf.
Henry glanced in her direction and took a deep breath. “Something wrong?”
“Nope,” Victoria said and decided to put him out of his misery, even though she was rather enjoying the normally self-assured Henrique Santana’s unease. “I’ve never eaten at Riccardo’s before. It might be nice to try something new.”
“Well then, it looks like it will be our first time,” he answered, his voice deep.
Victoria turned her attention back onto the sidewalk. Holy shit! Apparently, he wasn’t as nervous as she’d believed. His sexually driven innuendo made her cheeks color. Henrique Santana was smooth. That was for damn sure. And to think she’d almost fallen for his act. Lying, two-faced, rat bastard.
“Good thing there’s a parking lot behind the restaurant. I forgot my gloves,” Henry said and waggled his eyebrows. Luckily, I have pockets.” He wiggled his fingers into the air, making a show of his gloveless hands.
Victoria rolled her eyes, refusing to smile even though his idiotic display was kind of amusing.
As they neared the entrance, Henry shuffled in front of her, his hand covering hers as they simultaneously reached to open the door. Victoria flushed, instantly pulling her hand away. Opening the door wide, Henry waited for her to enter before him into a large waiting area, painted a delicate shade of lilac with crisp white crown molding. The rich aroma of garlic and other Italian delights wafted toward them, making Victoria’s stomach growl.
“Good evening.” Henry flashed one his dazzling smiles at the hostess. “We’d like a table by the window, please.”
Victoria glanced up at him quizzically. Well, that request had been unexpected. Whenever she’d dined with David, her ex-fiancé, he’d rebuked her when she suggested a window seat, complaining that it would be too drafty.
He peered down at her, his forehead wrinkling. “Everything all right?”
“Yup. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You had a faraway expression on your face. As if you were a million miles away,” he answered.
“Oh.” Victoria chewed on her bottom lip. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“The hostess said it should only be a couple of minutes. They’re clearing the table for us now.” He lightly took her arm and directed her toward the coat rack. Her stomach fluttered as if consumed by butterflies. “I hope you don’t mind that I requested a table by the window. It was rude of me not to ask first.”
The butterflies tortured her with an abundance of bellyflops as she shook her head.
“On the way here, I noticed how much you seemed to enjoy looking out at the Christmas lights.”
So smooth! It’s all part of the plan, Victoria reminded herself, reining in her nerves. This dinner meant nothing to him. It was a ploy to get on her good side. She’d be a fool to believe otherwise, and Henrique Santana was in for a rude awakening if he thought she’d be bought with a fancy dinner and a few kind gestures.
“Let me take your coat,” he said, moving his hands to her shoulders to assist her.
She unbuttoned her pink parka, quickly shrugging it from her shoulders. Thankfully, she’d worn her favorite teal sweater. Every time she wore it, she’d been told the hue complemented her complexion. Unfortunately, it was paired with faded blue jeans and scuffed black snow boots. Being underdressed hadn’t been a consideration when she agreed to dine at the elegant restaurant. She’d been too focused on more critical issues, such as her dinner companion’s willingness to ruin her life.
The hostess sauntered toward them, her lips slick with bright red lipstick, parted into a sultry smile. “Your table is ready,” she said.
The hostess ushered them through the maze of tables. Mid-bite, the diners turned their focus toward them, openly gawking. Victoria supposed she couldn’t blame them. Henrique Santana was easy on the eyes. In a body-hugging, black cashmere sweater and gray, tailored slacks that fit him like a glove, Henry commanded attention. Even his black leather dress shoes had been buffed and polished to perfection.
“Victoria!” Her name echoed throughout the dining room. She cringed. All eyes suddenly moved their focus to her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Burton’s arms extended above her head, flapping frantically in the air. “Over here, Victoria!”
Oh, no! Victoria stopped walking, staring at the horrific sight. This can’t be happening, she thought as the elderly woman vacated her seat and then barreled through the rows of tables toward her.
“Someone you know,” Henry stated rather than asked.
Victoria tensed, wishing she could bolt from the room as Mrs. Burton besieged her. “Yup.”
“She’s rather eager to speak with you,” he said, his deep voice laced with amusement.
“Yup,” Victoria repeated grimly.
The hostess sighed then tapped her ridiculously long nails against the menus.
Henry gently squeezed Victoria’s shoulder. “Take your time talking with your friend. I’ll wait for you at the table.”
A satisfied smirk on her face, the hostess’s hips swayed seductively as Henry followed behind her toward the table.
“Hello, dear.” Mrs. Burton’s loud voice pierced her ears, as she bounded up to stand beside Victoria. “It’s so nice to see you outside of the bookstore.”
“Once in a while I escape,” Victoria quipped.
“What did you say?” Mrs. Burton bellowed.
Why doesn’t she buy a damn hearing aid? Victoria enunciated each word slowly and clearly. “Occasionally. I. Get. A. Night. Out.”
“Well, dear, I can certainly see why you’d want to stay cooped up at home.” She looked pointedly in Henry’s direction. Then she turned her attention back to Victoria, and in what she must have considered a whisper, shouted, “He’s very handsome.”
“We’re not dating,” Victoria blurted. She wanted to be certain that Mrs. Burton, a known gossip, had her facts straight. “We’re here to discuss business.” It was none of anyone’s concern why she was having dinner with Henrique Santana, but she’d be damned if anyone in the community thought she’d sold out to her enemy.
“Yes. Very well, then. Enjoy your evening,” Mrs. Burton said, obviously unconvinced.
News of her dinner meeting was going to spread like wildfire. She trudged toward the table, wondering how she would handle Jennifer’s inquisition once she heard.
One thing was for sure, Henrique Santana had impeccable manners. “I hope you like wine,” he stated as he stood to pull out her chair. “I took the liberty of requesting the best bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.”
Of course, you did. Victoria held up the menu and stifled a gasp when she saw the prices. Pretending to be comfortable dining in this exorbitantly expensive restaurant—the cost of one meal could pay for a week’s worth of groceries—Victoria assessed the vast selection. Deciding on the chicken marsala with garlic mashed potatoes and a house salad, she placed the menu down when the waitress uncorked the bottle of wine and poured the glistening liquid into their wine glasses.
“Thank you,” Victoria said.
The waitress eyed her with envy. “You’re welcome.” Gripping the notepad, she tapped the pen against her slightly parted lips. “Are you ready to order?”
Henry’s blue eyes shifted to Victoria as he closed the menu. “As long as my dinner companion has made her decision.”
“I have,” Victoria said. The waitress scribbled her order onto the notepad and then looked toward Henry. Might as well be invisible, Victoria thought, noting the waitress’s lust-filled expression.
“I’m also ordering a chicken dish. However, I’d like the chicken scaloppini, please.”
“Excellent choice. The chef makes mouth-watering scaloppini,” the waitress said.
Once the waitress had left with their menus, Henry lifted his glass. “To getting to know each other.”
Yeah, right. Good luck with that, mister. Reluctantly, Victoria clinked the side of her glass to his. Each took a sip, and an unspoken truce, for the next few hours at least, had begun.
“How long have you lived in Newport?” Henry asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“My entire life.” Victoria fidgeted in her seat, uncertain how much of her personal life she should divulge. “When I was six months old, my parents were involved in a car crash coming home from a New Year’s Eve party. They died upon impact, leaving my Nana to raise me.
“I’m very sorry to learn of your loss. It’s not easy to grow up not knowing your parents.”
“No, it isn’t,” Victoria answered. He has no idea how hard. As much as she adored Nana, there was always an emptiness within her.
Henry picked up the wine bottle and refilled her half-empty glass. “I was four when my mother died.”
Victoria sucked in a breath and placed her hand to her chest as compassion swept through her. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
He shrugged and picked up his glass, using his fingertips to turn the stem. “Mother was beautiful. My most vivid memory of her was at bedtime. After Patrice had prepared me for bed, my mother would always be waiting for me.”
“Patrice?” Victoria questioned.
“At the time, Patrice was my nanny. Now, for God knows what reason, she’s still working for my father. Only now, she works as his housekeeper.”
“Oh.” Victoria took a sip of her wine.
“Mother would make a fuss of tucking the sheets snuggly under my chin—said it made her happy to know I was nestled in safe and warm. Then she’d read me stories until I was fast asleep. Occasionally, my father would interrupt us, complaining that my mother was babying me. It was the only time he stepped foot into my bedroom.” Henry stared at the liquid as it swirled. “I think the plethora of stuffed animals, puzzles, books, and action figures might have been too much for Father. He’d only dared to enter when he wanted to speak to Mother.” The warmth had left his voice, a trace of bitterness replacing it. “Why don’t you tell me about your grandmother,” Henry suggested, abruptly changing the subject.
“Nana was wonderful. She was so good to me.” Victoria’s voice cracked. “I’ve always felt a little guilty that instead of traveling, which had been her dream, she spent her golden years taking care of me.”
“It’s not a sacrifice when you love someone,” Henry said. “By the sound of it, you adored her. That doesn’t happen unless the other person has loved you unconditionally.”
“I do...I mean, I did,” Victoria sighed. “She died two years ago, but I will always love her.”
Wordlessly, he reached to touch her hand.
His touch was strangely comforting. Too comforting. “I think about Nana every day.”
“I don’t believe that anyone truly dies. Although the physical body may no longer be with us, spirits live on in our hearts forever.”
Victoria took a sip of her wine, willing herself not to cry. “Tell me more about yourself,” she said, swallowing back tears. This conversation was getting way too personal.
“All right...” He traced his finger lightly across the top of her hand. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything you want to tell me.” Victoria pulled her hand from his and placed it on her lap beneath the table. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No.”
“How about that?”
He raised a dark eyebrow.
“We have something in common.”
“You’ve suffered the stigma attached to being an only child, too?”
“Yup.” She nodded and downed the remainder of her wine. “Everyone always assumes you’re a spoiled brat.”
Three glasses and two bottles of wine later, Victoria sat upright in her chair, listening intently as Henry regaled her with stories of the mischief he got into while at boarding school.
“No way.” She giggled.
“Yes way.”
There was an easiness to his laughter that she found extremely attractive. “Want to hear a scary thought?” she asked boldly.
Henry positioned his chair beside her. His shoulders brushing hers, he leaned in closer. “Definitely.”
The warmth of his breath scorched her skin. Victoria closed her eyes, inhaling the heady mixture of wine and the scent of masculinity that was distinctly his own. So close. She willed herself not to place her mouth over his. She wanted to lick the sweetness from his lips. She swayed forward, lightheaded, and began to run her fingertip over the rim of her wine glass. “Maybe...”
“What?” His voice had become deeper, huskier.
Victoria lifted the glass to her lips, suddenly brazen as she grinned. “I shouldn’t tell you. Some things are best left unsaid.”
“You know you want to.” Henry’s dark blue eyes smoldered as he watched her lips curl over the thin rim of the wine glass.
As she sipped her wine, she now understood more clearly why Jennifer drank. The wine lessened her inhibitions. Releasing the inner seductress was exciting. Freed from her shell, Victoria cocked her head to one side, allowing a cascade of blonde hair to fall over one shoulder. “You aren’t the jerk I thought you were. I might even kind of like you.”
He cupped her chin, trailing his thumb over her lower lip. “That’s good to hear.”
Electricity jolted throughout her body, her breathing becoming labored. “It is?” Instinctively, her lips parted, needy for his taste.
Henry spoke in a hushed whisper, “It’s very good.”
“Why?” Victoria whispered.
“Because...I might kind of like you.” His lips hovered mere inches from hers. “A lot.”