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I walk up behind Erica. "Ah, there you are."
She sways ever so slightly, not enough anyone else would see it, and flutters her lashes like she has something in her eyes.
I sling an arm around her waist to support her.
Erica loops an arm around me, her embrace tighter than a simple hug would be.
I can't help wincing, just a touch. Blimey, she's strong.
She lifts her face to gaze up at me, her smile tinged with gratitude.
I kiss the top of her head. "Sorry I took so long, sweet."
My attention shifts to the man she'd been talking to, then back to her. Will she introduce me? Not sure she'll want to since we're not dating. But the couple in front of us seems to be waiting for her to tell them who I am. Erica opens her mouth, then shuts it, and repeats the action three times.
Should I introduce myself?
"Lachlan MacTaggart," I say, offering my hand to the chap whose wife is whispering to their children. "I'm Erica's friend."
"Danny Liao," the chap says. "I used to work with Erica. And this is my wife, Mia."
"Pleasure to meet you both." I shake hands with the couple, then I give Erica a quick squeeze and a quick smile. "We should be going, don't you think? Plenty to do before our dinner reservation at Everest."
Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that in front of Erica's mates, but the words flew out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. I'd once again experienced a strange urge to make Erica feel better. She seems anxious about meeting up with Danny and Mia, though I can't imagine why since Danny works with her.
No, Danny said heworkedwith her. Past tense. That must mean something.
Aye, it means she changed jobs, or maybe he did. There's no deeper meaning.
"Wow," Danny drawls, his eyes widening. He slaps my arm and grins. "Pulling out all the stops, eh?"
"Nothing's too good for my Erica." My Erica? Why the bloody hell did I say that? Despite knowing I've bollocksed things up again, I can't resist nuzzling her hair and lowering my voice to a murmur when I say, "That's for certain."
Erica throws me a panicked sideways glance, but then reasserts her pleasantly bland expression as she faces her mates.
A few minutes later, we've said goodbye to the Liaos and are heading across the parking lot to the Mercedes convertible I'd hired for the duration of my holiday in America. I open the passenger door for Erica, and once she's climbed in, I shut it and get in on the driver's side.
She scowls at me. "You could've warned me."
"About what?"
"Dinner." She enunciated each syllable carefully, hitting the consonants hard. "Five-star dining? I have nothing—absolutely nothing—I can wear to a place like Everest. I don't own a skirt, much less an evening gown."
I shrug. "I'll buy you one."
She crosses her arms and frowns again. "I won't be your kept woman."
"Kept?" I open my mouth but can't speak, so instead, I shake my head. What have I done now? Dinner at a posh restaurant was meant to be a good surprise, not cause for annoyance. I raise my hands, spreading them palms out. "The dress will be a gift, nothing more."
She eyes me sideways. "Accepting gifts from rich men in exchange for sex is the definition of a kept woman."
I jerk my head back as if she slapped me, which it almost feels like she has done. "It's not in exchange for anything. You're worried about not fitting in at the restaurant, so I offered to buy you a new dress." Don't women love it when men buy them things? Apparently, I've had it wrong all my life, or else this is more of her unexplained anxieties. I stretch out an arm to drape it over the back of her seat, leaning in close. "Stop acting like you're a prostitute. We have nothing to be ashamed of. Do we?"
For a moment, she says nothing, her expression slack. Then she rests her head against the seat and swivels her face toward me. "No, we're not doing anything wrong."
I slant closer, our lips now within kissing distance, and lay my free hand on her thigh with my fingers splayed over it. "Let me buy you a dress. Please."
"Are you trying to impress me? With haute cuisine and haute couture to match?"
