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I tried to keep up, following his instructions to keep quiet as the questions were hurled at us. Why did people care what we ate, or drank, when we met, or what club we were headed to? We’d better not be going to a club the way I was dressed.
Then one with greasy blond hair grabbed my free arm. “Your name?”
I looked away and wrenched my arm free from the pervert. Being the klutz I was, I promptly tripped and twisted my ankle. The next thing I knew, Evan had caught me, and I was in his arms, looking up into that strong face as my vocal cords refused to operate.
The strength of his arms, the smell of his cologne, the feel of one breast against a wall of hard muscle and his hand on the other—it was too much to process. For a moment the world stopped and I was back on the beach in the Hamptons. And Evan had caught me when I’d fallen off the dock.
But he was no longer that skinny neighbor boy, he was an exceedingly handsome man half of New York lusted after.
He quickly steadied me, and the image melted away. He removed his arms. “You all right?”
The cameras kept clicking as I returned to reality.
“Sure.” My first limping step made me a liar.
So he picked me up and carried me to the car door his very large, dark-suited driver held open for us.
Now Evan’s conversation on the phone made more sense. Bythey, he meant these vultures with the cameras and the questions.
Albert closed the car door behind us and rushed around to the driver’s side. Things quieted down once he pulled away from the curb. “Nice dinner, sir?” He asked, as if our exit from the restaurant had been a normal occurrence rather than a mob attack.
When Evan didn’t open his mouth right away, I answered for us, “Yes, Albert, it was very nice. Thank you for asking. Next time you’ll have to join us. I really enjoyed the crème brûlée. I think you might too.”
Albert didn’t say anything, but Evan’s grimace said enough for both of them. Albert’s job obviously didn’t include dinner with the boss.
If so, Evan’s world sucked. It was going to be fun messing up this tidy place, and inviting the help to join us would be just the beginning.
“Where to, sir?”
Evan rattled off my address.
I could finally breathe again. “Albert, you can let me off at the subway station.”
Albert nodded. “Yes, Miss Borelli.”
“Albert,” Evan insisted. “Her house.”
“Yes, sir.”
I started to object, “But—”
Evan silenced me with a quick finger to my lips.
I hated being told what to do and felt like biting the finger off, but the checks in my purse argued against that.
“I,” Evan started slowly, “am a gentleman.”
“That’s debatable,” I mumbled against his finger.
“And a gentleman sees his date safely home.”
When he pulled his finger back from my lips I almost missed the contact—almost. “How does he know my name?” I whispered.
His breath caressed my ear as he leaned over. “I told him the name of the special lady I was meeting for dinner.”
“Oh.” I pulled back to a respectable distance. There was nothing wrong with that, butspecial lady? Our meeting had been planned, but that meant he’d planned all along to drive me home too.
“Why did the pack of hyenas attack us back there?”
