He nods and ducks out again.

Nathan arches an eyebrow at me. “Was that his polite way of telling me I have to leave?”

I nod. “I’m sorry. We don’t usually allow visitors.”

“Don’t apologize. He told me I could only stay for a couple of hours.” He checks his watch. “Which means my time is up in three minutes.”

I stand and attempt to brush Potato’s fur from my pants. “I had a lovely evening. Thank you so much for everything.” I start to pack up the leftovers.

Nathan pushes back his chair and helps, but when I go to put them in the picnic basket, he stops me. “Leave them in the refrigerator. Serge might like some dinner later.”

“That’s really kind of you. I’m sure he will.”

We both close the lid at the same time, and our fingers brush. Electric sparks skitter up my forearm. “I wish you could stay,” I whisper.

“Me too, Spitfire.”

He picks up the basket and cups my jaw with his free hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my lip. “Are you free next Friday night?”

I take a breath, my heart stuttering in my chest. Next Friday? Not tomorrow? That’s over a week away.

“I have to go to Chicago on business tomorrow, and I won’t be back until next week,” he says, and I wonder if he can read every thought on my face. As silly as it seems, I’m going to miss him.

“Yes, I’m free.”

He winks. “Then it’s a date, Miss Edison.” He bends down and presses a soft kiss on my forehead. I lock my knees to keep them from buckling and try not to drool as I watch him walk out of the room.

Chapter

Thirteen

NATHAN

Iglance at my cell phone on the desk beside me and suppress a smirk when I see her text message displayed on the screen.

Is this a joke? Are you seriously choosing my clothes for our date?

I clear my throat, and my secretary looks up from her legal pad. “Excuse me, Helen. I need to deal with this.”

She offers me a brief smile and places her pad and pen in her lap while I type out a reply to Mel.

It’s a gift. You know what a gift is, surely?

It feels like a possessive, big dick energy move to me.

I suppress a laugh. Our last two dates play on a highlight reel in my head, and we didn’t even so much as kiss. But fuck, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to take her back to my place and fuck her until neither of us could walk.

So she thinks I have big dick energy? Well, she’s sure right about one thing. I almost type that but refrain from being so crass. I picked the dress out especially for her, and it will look goddamn incredible on those killer curves.

Have you even looked at the dress?

That’s not the point.

Helen taps her pen on her notepad, a subtle reminder that we’re supposed to be going over my calendar for next week. I hold up a finger, letting her know I’ll be just another minute before I send my final reply to Mel.

Tonight will be a special occasion. I wanted you to have something special to wear. If you don’t love it, don’t wear it. I’ll send a car for you at eight

I place the phone back on my desk, screen down so I’m not distracted by her reply when it inevitably comes through, and give my full attention to Helen. I already have way too much shit to do today without being distracted by a text argument with my wife-to-be—as much as the thought of doing that gets my blood pumping.

I can’t fail to notice the admiring glances Mel attracts as she winds her way through the crowded restaurant toward me. A group of men at a nearby table look her up and down when she passes. Annoyance stabs my gut, but she doesn’t even glance in their direction. Her eyes are fixed ahead. On me.

I grin when I catch a glimpse of the blood-red fabric molded to her body like a second skin, accentuating the curve of her hips, and I’m practically salivating at the thought of how delectable her perfectly rounded ass must look in the clingy fabric. I knew that color would look incredible on her, but the fact that she’s wearing a dress I picked out stirs the possessive animal inside me. I pull out her chair and kiss her cheek when she reaches me. The scent of her sweet floral perfume fills my nose and makes my mouth water. My hand skims over her hip, my lips linger on her skin a little longer than necessary, and I feel her cheek heat beneath my touch.

I clear my throat, breaking the connection that sparks between us. “You look beautiful, Melanie.”

She absent-mindedly brushes the fabric covering her abdomen, and her sparkling green eyes meet mine as she mouths thank you.

Once we’re seated, I take a moment to appreciate her captivating beauty. She wears minimal makeup and no jewelry aside from a pair of diamond earrings. Her thick dark hair is styled so that it falls in cascading waves over one shoulder again, exposing the soft skin of her slender neck. An image of me sinking my teeth into the creamy flesh there makes its way into my consciousness, and I mentally check myself. “I see you decided to wear the gift?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Well, it is a beautiful dress. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyes rake over my features like she might read what I’m thinking by my expression alone. She won’t. “Did you choose it yourself, or …” She chews on the inside of her cheek.

I arch a brow. “Or?”

“Or did someone pick it out for you? A woman, perhaps?”

I pour her a glass of the Chardonnay I ordered when I arrived and fight to hold back a satisfied grin. I have no idea why this woman makes me want to smile so goddamn much. It’s unnerving. “Melanie, are you jealous?”

“No,” she retorts, a little too quickly. “But I’d like to know if it’s you who has such exceptionally good taste, or if you have some poor ex-girlfriend who dresses your dates for you.”

She is jealous. Why does that make me so fucking happy? “I picked it out for you. I saw it in the window at Barney’s and thought it would be perfect for you. Is that acceptable, Miss Edison?”

Her lips twitch. “Very, Mr. James.”

Her eyes light up when I wink at her, but the moment is interrupted by the waiter coming to talk us through the specials.

“So what’s the occasion?” Melanie asks, placing her soup spoon on the table beside her bowl.

I take a sip of my wine. “Any time I see you feels like a special occasion, darling.”

She rolls her eyes and snorts a cute-as-hell laugh. “Nathan. I’m serious. You said tonight was a special occasion.”

The ring box in my jacket pocket feels like it’s burning through the fabric of my suit. Some part of me wants to surprise her and see her reaction, but I have no clue why, seeing as this is merely a business transaction for her. And for me too—that goes without saying. I lean closer, careful to ensure nobody hears me. “I was planning to propose.”