CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

Andrew knew he was sounding a little manic with his laughter, and in some corner of his mind, he told himself not to freak her out, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It was like all the emotions of the last hour had combined with the anger he’d held inside for seven long years, and it was all spilling out now.

Poor Rachel. It wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t need to see this.

With a gargantuan effort, he managed to get himself under control, but his shoulders still shook as he reached for his water glass. And he wasn’t sure if it was with laughter, or sobs. She wanted him to interview with Uncle Bob? She thought Andrew should work for the man who’d sent his sister back to hell on earth?

No.

Calmer now, he forced himself to study Rachel. When he’d seen her through the window of the restaurant, he’d been struck with the oddest certainty: This was her. This was the woman for him; forget all those other dates. Rachel was his, and he’d be hers.

Luckily, she hadn’t been offended by his stupid opening lines, and had turned out to be just as much fun in person as she was online. And beautiful too; her black hair swept elegantly and her expressive brows framed dark eyes, which flashed with an intelligence and sense of fun he’d been looking forward to experiencing. Her dark skin was flawless, and her round cheeks were perfect bookends to her wide smile, which had shown up plenty during their conversation.

In short, the last hour or so had just proved his initial impression correct: she was the woman for him, and they would be wonderful together.

Up until she’d gone and said that.

Slouched in his chair, one hand gripping the water glass, and the other curled around the armrest, he stared at her and brooded.

She was staring back with eyes wide enough he could see the whites around the edges of her dark irises. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.

He shook his head slightly. “Did he send you?”

“Who?”

What must it be like to work with a man like that? A man who could say what he’d said to Heather—how would he treat a woman working with him? And he had four daughters, all of whom worked at the hotel, according to Mom’s last update. He probably wouldn’t blink at asking an employee like Rachel to go on a date to manipulate a man…

“Bob. Did he send you?”

“No!”

Hmm.

Her response had been immediate and offended, if he had to guess. And she didn’t seem as if she was faking it either. So maybe Bob had changed over the years, or more likely, he simply has more respect for his employees than he ever had for Heather.

She sat forward a little, waving her hand in what seemed like agitation. “Look, Andrew, I don’t know what your history with my boss is, and I don’t need to know. But just know he’s really disappointed you haven’t been willing to consider working for him—”

“And he knows why,” Andrew snapped, irritation welling again.

She snapped her mouth closed and stared at him, breathing deeply a few times. Then she said, “Maybe, but I don’t think so. Look, the hotel is a great environment, and he’s a great boss, whatever you seem to think. We desperately need a new chief engineer, and all I’m asking is that you consider interviewing. You’d have to report directly to him if you took the job, which means I wouldn’t be your supervisor, which is good in case you wanted to…”

When she trailed off, her eyes got wider, then darted down to stare at the empty plates between them. Andrew’s lips curled slightly, although it wasn’t a particularly nice smile.

She was thinking about them dating, wasn’t she?

She was saying he could come work for Bob, and it wouldn’t violate any ethics if they wanted to continue dating. Which he’d wanted just moments ago, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Was he?

She was smart and funny and fun to be around, and he wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to ask her opinion on his problems, he wanted to call her up every day and complain about the darned goat. He wanted to come home to her and be the one to ask her about her day.

But she worked for Uncle Bob, and if he continued to date her, she’d surely try to talk him into interviewing at least. Andrew wasn’t sure he could stomach being in the same room as Bob again, not without being sick or hitting something. Dating Rachel wasn’t worth that.

Was it?

No.

No, he’d only just met her, and she was great and all, but he had his life the way he liked it. He had Heather and the kids and that was enough.

Sighing, he gave up on his stupid dream of having Rachel too. “Look, Rachel, I like you.”

“I like you too,” she was quick to say, but it was obvious from the hesitation in her eyes she knew what was coming.

“I like you a lot. You’re fun and smart, and I like your sense of humor. I could see this” –he gestured back and forth between them— “going someplace.”

“But?”

A deep breath. “But I’m not going to work for Bob. And since you do, I think maybe—”

“I just want you to interview with him,” she hurried to assure him.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

She settled back in her chair, and her dark eyes turned calculating.

What was going on in her head?

Despite his vague sense of dread, Andrew was surprised to discover he was actually looking forward to whatever she’d say next. If the last fifteen minutes were any indication, it would be a wild ride.

Still peering at him, she began to drum her fingers on her arm rest, and Andrew gave in to the urge to smile slightly.

She really was something, wasn’t she?

He found himself actually enjoying this…what was this?

A negotiation?

Finally, she nodded. “Prove it.”

His brows went up. “Prove what?”

“Prove you don’t think this is going anywhere.”

This time his chuckle wasn’t at all forced. “How?”

With a swiftness that startled him, Rachel sat forward in her chair once more, planted her elbows, and steepled her hands in front of her face. She looked so much like a CEO in a movie, he had to chuckle again.

Let the negotiations begin.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I like you, Andrew, and I can see this”–she dropped her hands long enough to mimic his early gesture mockingly, then returned to her pose—“going somewhere. I want it to, in fact. So here’s my proposal.”

This was fun, wasn’t it?

He leaned forward, planted his elbows, and matched her pose. “I’m listening,” he said seriously.

“I propose we experiment. There’s one sure-fire way to tell if we should consider fighting for this.”

“This being a possible relationship between the two of us?”

She nodded, straight-faced. “Indeed.”

“Go on,” he invited her.

“Excellent, thank you.” She took a deep breath. “A relationship would be impossible without some…spark.”

It was a struggle to keep his expression neutral. “You mean a physical spark. An attraction.”

“Yes. I find you attractive already, and don’t mind the thought of kissing you.”

“I don’t mind the thought of kissing you either.” The understatement of the year.

She nodded once. “Excellent. Then we are in agreement to an experiment?”

This was the oddest—and most adorable—first-kiss negotiation he could imagine. “You’re proposing we attempt a kiss, and the fate of our possible future relationship would rely on the outcome of that kiss?”

Another nod. “Yes, but in order to be certain, we must be thorough.”

It was almost impossible to keep a straight face, seeing her intensity. She was adorable. And how could he consider denying her? He’d wanted to kiss her from almost the moment he’d seen her, and she was correct; a kiss or two would tell them if they had a spark, which would tell them if they should bother to fight for this relationship.

Of course, he suspected they had a bit more than a spark between them, but time would tell. As Gramps would say, they could burn that bridge when they got to it.

Breaking eye contact with her, he lifted one finger and called for the check.

Paying for the meal, complimenting Lin and her husband Brandon on the delicious food, and getting back into their coats took the next fifteen minutes or so.

Was it Andrew’s imagination, or did Rachel seem as distracted as he was? Was she anxious for their experiment?

His grin grew.

Finally—finally!—they were outside in the cold Riston night air. Every time he exhaled, a little puff of steam hung around his face, but he wasn’t about to put on his hat or gloves just yet. Not with her bare hand still in his, their fingers entwined as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

They strolled along the sidewalk for a few minutes until they reached a circle of light under one of the streetlamps. That’s when he felt her tug on his hand. He turned to find her stopped under the glow.

She was peering up at him solemnly, but there was something sparkling in her eyes. “I’d like to commence our experiment now.”

One of his brows raised along with the corner of his lips. “Now?”

He didn’t have anyplace better, but he liked hearing her professional voice. It was so adorably different from her nervousness at the beginning of their date.

“Please,” she added.

So he let his smile bloom. “Gladly.”

Clearing his throat, he settled himself squarely in front of her, and almost by rote, placed his hands on her hips. She nodded solemnly and lifted her hands to rest on his shoulders.

“Ready?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and nodded again. “Ready,” she said softly.

He lowered his lips to hers. Just a light brush, a faint touch. When she didn’t pull back—in fact, she pressed herself forward, towards him—he smiled slightly and tried again. Her hold on his shoulders tightened, and she whimpered slightly as she lifted herself on her toes to reach him better.

With a groan, he gave in to the inevitable, and kissed her the way he’d been wanting to kiss her since the moment he saw her.

She tasted of soy sauce and cherry lip gloss and laughter. In his arms, she felt like spontaneity and wholeness and a fire suppression system tuned so well it was just a breath from going off.

And in their chests, pressed against one another as they were, her heartbeat felt like forever.

A spark? A spark?

Heck, this wasn’t a spark. This was an entire electrical grid, moments away from a meltdown or an explosion, and he wasn’t going to try to stop it.

It wasn’t until he heard his name—her voice in his ear—he realized they needed to stop.

To reevaluate.

Because he was in danger of doing something stupid, and with the blood pounding in his temples, he couldn’t remember why that would be a bad idea.

Somehow, they’d migrated during their kiss, and now he had her pressed up against the brick of the building they’d been standing in front of. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers tugging at the short hairs on the back of his head. He’d been kissing her neck, and thank God she’d been sane enough to call his name, to make him remember they were in public.

Only, the expression on her face—dazed and blissful, and very thoroughly kissed—told him maybe she hadn’t wanted to stop either.

Breathing deeply to gain control of himself, Andrew blinked down at her. “There’s your experiment,” he said in a rough voice.

“Successful, I believe.”

Her tone of voice—half professional, half satiated—made him smile.

“Imminently successful, I would think.”

Although it did add a hitch to their plans. How much easier would it have been had they kissed and felt nothing? No spark, which told them to walk away and look for love elsewhere? But they had, and now they had to make a decision.

Love?

His lips curved up. No, he didn’t love Rachel yet, they’d only just met in person…but he could see it happening.

“Yes, rather.”

She cleared her throat and unwound her arms from around him. He stepped back, allowing her the space to straighten her jacket and her hair, and the light from the streetlamp caught the glossy sheen of both. She was beautiful.

“So…” When she tucked a strand of hair behind her right ear, he wondered if that was a habit of hers, and what it meant. “That was…successful.”

He grinned, because she was repeating herself. “I enjoyed myself.” That should’ve been obvious. “I’d like to try this experiment again.”

“Yes, me too.” She ran her fingers across her ear again, even though there was no hair left to tuck. Definitely a nervous habit. “I think we should consider seeing one another again.”

“I concur.” Best second-date negotiation ever!

That’s when she hit him out of nowhere with, “However…”

He blinked. “What?” Snagging her hand, he pulled her the two steps into the circle of light from the streetlamp. He wanted to see exactly what was going on in her expression. “What do you mean, however?”

Her smile was tight when she met his eyes. “However, I have a proposition for you.”

A sense of dread began to creep into his stomach. “Go on.”

“It’s obvious we’re suited, and a relationship with you would be…”

When she trailed off, he raised a brow and offered some suggestions. “Awesome? Amazingly awesome? Awesomely amazing? Pretty darn fabulous? Incredible. Full of kisses.”

“Yeah, all those things.” Her smile turned more natural. “And more, probably. I’d love to date you, Andrew, and see where this could lead.”

“But?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m going to offer you a deal. A negotiation. I’m holding our future kisses hostage, you might say.”

And that sense of dread caught up to him and slammed up into his throat with a certainty. “You want me to work for Bob, don’t you?”

She shook her head quickly as she took his other hand. “I want you to interview. Just interview, Andrew,” she said quietly, squeezing both his hands and peering up at him. “Come for an interview with Bob, come sit down and listen to his offer, and…”

“And you’ll date me,” he said dully.

She nodded.

And God help him, but he knew what the answer should be.

He’d known in the restaurant, when she’d first suggested it: a big fat no.

But now? Now he’d tasted her, had felt the possibility of forever in her arms?

Now the answer wasn’t so simple. Now he knew he owed it to himself—to his past, his present, and his future—to explore this. Maybe they wouldn’t have the happily ever after he’d been looking for since he’d started dating. Maybe they’d get a few more dates—and kisses—into this relationship and discover they weren’t suited. Maybe they’d break up messily, or amicably, or maybe they wouldn’t break up at all.

The point was, now that he’d felt that spark between them, there was no way he could turn his back on it. He had to see it through to the end, good or bad.

“You’re a hard negotiator, Rachel Chakrabarti.”

She nodded solemnly. “I intend to one day run my own hotel.”

“You’re getting good practice,” he said a little bitterly.

She was holding this above his head to get what she wanted, and he knew he’d give in.

Taking a deep breath, he stared into her eyes. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

The little noise she made wasn’t triumphant as he’d expected, but a little sad. She wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed herself against him in a hug. As his arms crept around her, he realized he could feel her heartbeat again. Somehow, this hug was more intimate and alarming than their earlier kiss.

He loved it.

Closing his eyes, Andrew tilted his head back, welcoming the harsh night air on his skin. What had he done?