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She relaxed. Focusing on the work, she started to hit her stride, making notes, making points, asking questions.
‘Let’s get something to eat.’ His suggestion came out of the blue.
She glanced out of the window—when had it got dark? What time was it? After six already? How had that happened?
‘Aren’t we done for the day?’ She had copious pages of notes.
‘No,’ he answered uncompromisingly. ‘I’m away tomorrow and I want you to be able to get on with this asap. I want to meet on Monday and you can show me what you’ve come up with.’
Monday?
‘So let’s go to a restaurant and keep going.’ He sat back in his chair, looking at her rather than at the papers spread between them.
‘But—’
‘Think of it as killing two birds with one stone. You need to work to be able to eat, right? Tonight you can do both. Besides—’ he suddenly had that smile on ‘—a restaurant is nice and bright and public.’
She made herself look away from him, looked around her instead. The office was very quiet and the darkness closing in on them through the window made the scene more intimate. She was drawn back to him again—meeting his eyes…
‘OK.’ It was a no-brainer.
He drove, his car even more luxurious than she’d imagined it would be when at the airport bus stop on Sunday night, with its spacious seating, the stretch-rightout leg room, gleaming interior and purring power under the bonnet.
Those years ago in Ashburton he’d had no car—had either hitched a ride or worst case, ridden a rusty old mountain bike. Back then Amanda had ridden in her grandfather’s Daimler, seated in the back seat like Lady Muck. It was Amanda who had no car now.
‘Any preference—Italian? Thai?’
She shook her head, realising she no longer felt that hungry.
He pulled into a park and walked her half a block up the street—giving her a sidelong look. ‘They do a really good chocolate fondant here.’
‘What makes you think I’d like that?’ she asked tartly.
He laughed and reluctantly so did she. OK, maybe she could do with a little sweetening. The warmth of the restaurant came out of the open door to meet them. The maître d’ smiled at Jared and led them straight to a table in a quiet corner.
Amanda narrowed her eyes—had he booked this? When? It was obvious the two men knew each other, and Jared was clearly used to such quick service. Quite the successful man, wasn’t he?
She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d worked so hard back then, of course he’d have continued that habit. No doubt he deserved every inch of his obvious success. But somehow it grated. Especially in light of her own failures. While he’d gone up in the world, she’d tumbled down. But she’d never worked like him, never had to—not ’til now. Maybe there was a kind of justice to it? But it wasn’t fancy things she wanted—in truth she’d never really wanted them. Right now she’d give up all the riches in the world to have her grandfather healthy again.
She watched Jared sit back in his fine tailored suit, noting the ease with which he spoke to the waiting staff—so at home in a scene of such wealth and sophistication.
He’d be even more irresistible to women now, wouldn’t he? What with serious money as well as those superb looks and that sizzling attitude. They’d be falling over themselves to land him. And he’d be happy to make the most of it. Always he’d have the pick of the most beautiful women around.
Amanda glared at the menu card.
‘Shall I order the dessert right away?’ Jared was grinning at her.
‘I think I can hold off.’ She winced as she realised this was one of those places that was so expensive it didn’t detail the prices. ‘What else is good?’
‘The veal.’ He didn’t need to look at the menu to know the dish.
‘OK.’ She didn’t want to take responsibility for deciding how many millions this meal was going to cost.
‘I’ll have it too.’ He added a bottle of wine to the order and a bottle of his own company’s juice.
Amanda looked everywhere but at him in the intervening moments. Sure it was bright and public, but they were in a darker corner near the back and there was something dangerously intimate about a small table set for two. What a fool she was for agreeing to this.
Once upon a time they’d been from opposite sides of the tracks. Now those positions had been reversed. Jared was the one issuing the orders, Jared was the one in control of her career—and he was enjoying it, wasn’t he?
Payback time. But what she didn’t know was why—and he didn’t know the possible ramifications. She wasn’t going to tell him. Wasn’t going to play the pity card—he never had. All she could do was what he had—work hard—maybe that would make him accept her competence.
