she would relax—hell, they might even end up sharing a dessert.
His mouth curved up into a satisfied smile. Or, better still, they could save dessert until they got back to his penthouse.
* * *
So this was what it felt like to be famous, Nola thought as she walked self-consciously between the tables in the exclusive restaurant Ram had chosen. It was certainly an experience, although she wasn’t sure it was one she’d ever want to repeat.
The Wool Shed was the hottest dining ticket in town, but even though it was midweek, and the award-winning restaurant was packed, to her astonishment Ram hadn’t bothered to book. For any normal person that would have meant looking for somewhere else to eat. Clearly those rules didn’t apply to Ram Walker, for now, within seconds of his arrival, the maître d’ was leading them to a table with a view across the bay to the Opera House.
‘I think I may have told our guests that dinner was at eight, so it’s going to be just the two of us for a bit. Sorry about that.’
Nola stared at him warily. He didn’t sound sorry; he sounded completely unrepentant. Meeting his gaze, she saw that he didn’t look sorry either. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the uneasiness that was clearly written all over her face.
Sliding into the seat he’d pulled out, Nola breathed out carefully. ‘That’s fine. It’ll give you a chance to brief me on our mystery guests.’
She felt him smile behind her. ‘Of course—and don’t worry, your chaperones will arrive very soon. I promise.’
Gritting her teeth, she watched him drop gracefully into the chair beside her. At work it had been easy to tell herself that the tension between them was just some kind of personality clash or a battle of wills. Now, though, she could see that ever since she’d met Ram that first time, the battle had been raging inside her.
A battle between her brain and her body...between common sense and her basest carnal urges. And, much as she would have liked to deny it, or pretend it wasn’t true, the sexual pull between them was as real and tangible as the bottles of still and sparkling water on the table. So much so that only by pressing her fingers into the armrests of her chair could she stop herself from reaching out to touch the smooth curve of his jaw.
Her hand twitched. It was like trying to ignore a mosquito bite. The urge to scratch was overwhelming.
But surely walking into this restaurant with him was just what she’d needed to remind her why it was best not to give in to that urge—for Ram wasn’t just her boss. He was way out of her league.
In a room filled with beautiful people, he was the unashamed focus of every eye. As he’d strolled casually to their table conversations had dwindled and even the waiters had seemed to freeze; it had been as though everyone in the restaurant had taken a sort of communal breath.
And it was easy to see why.
Glancing up, she felt a jolt of hunger spike inside her.
There was something about him that commanded attention. Of course he looked amazing—each feature, from his long dark eyelashes to the tiny scar on his cheekbone, looked as though it had been lovingly executed by an artist. But it wasn’t just his dark, sculpted looks that tugged at the senses. He had a quality of certainty that was unique, compelling, irresistible.
He was the ultimate cool boy at school, she decided. And now he was sitting next to her, his arm resting casually over the back of her chair, the scent of his cologne making a dizzy heat spread over her skin.
Unable to stop herself, she glanced sideways and felt her breath catch in her throat.
He was just too ridiculously beautiful.
As though sensing her focus, he turned, and the air was punched out of her lungs as his dark grey gaze scanned her face.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘Are you going to tell me who we’re meeting?’ She tried to arrange her expression into that same mix of casual and professional that he projected so effortlessly. ‘Are they local?’
‘They’re a little bigger than just Australia. It’s Craig Aldin and Will Fraser. They own—’
‘A&F Freight,’ she finished his sentence. ‘That’s the—’
‘The biggest logistics company in the southern hemisphere.’
His eyes glittered as he in turn finished her sentence, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. ‘Maybe we should try ordering dinner this way. It would be like a new game: gastronomic consequences.’
She tried not to respond to that smile, but it was like trying to resist gravity.
‘It could be fun,’ she said cautiously. ‘Although we might end up with some challenging flavour combinations.’
His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Well, I’ve never been that vanilla in my tastes,’ he said softly.
Her heart banged against her ribs like a bird hitting a window. There it was again—that spark of danger and desire, her flint striking his steel.
But as he picked up the water bottle and filled her glass she bit her lip, felt a knot forming in her stomach. Flirting with Ram in this crowded restaurant might feel safe. Playing with fire, however, was never a good idea—and especially not with a man who was as experienced and careless with women as he was.
She needed to remember that the next time he made her breath jerk in her throat, but right now she needed to dampen that flame and steer the conversation back to work.
‘Is A&F looking to upgrade its system?’ she asked quickly, ignoring the mocking gleam in his eyes.
Ram stared at her for a moment and then shrugged.
It was the same every time. Back and forth. Gaining her trust, then losing it again. Like trying to stroke a feral cat. Just as he thought he was close enough to touch, she’d retreat. It was driving him mad.
He shifted in his seat, wishing he could shift the ache inside his body. If he couldn’t persuade her to relax soon he was going to do himself some permanent damage.
His eyes drifted lazily over her body. In that cream blouse, dark skirt and stockings, and with those blue eyes watching him warily across the table, she looked more like a sleek Siamese than the feisty street cat she’d been channelling in their meeting that morning.
‘Yes—and soon. That’s why I want you to meet with them today.’
As he put the bottle back on the table his hand brushed against hers, and suddenly she was struggling to remember what he’d just said, let alone figure out how to reply.
‘Thank you,’ she said finally.
His expression was neutral. ‘Of course it might mean coming back to Australia.’
Frowning, she looked into his face. ‘That won’t be a problem.’
‘Really? It’s just that you live on the other side of the world. I thought you might have somebody missing you. Someone significant.’
Nola blinked. How had they ended up talking about this? About her private life.
Ram Walker was too damn sharp for his own good. He made connections that were barely visible while she was still struggling to join the dots.
His gaze was so intense that suddenly she wanted to lift her hand and shield her face. But instead she thought about her flat, with its high ceilings and shabby old sofas. It was her home, and she loved it, but it wasn’t a somebody. Truthfully, there hadn’t been anyone in her life since Connor.
Her throat tightened. Connor—with his sweet face and his floppy hair. And his desire to be liked. A desire that had meant betraying her trust in the most humiliating way possible. He hadn’t quite matched up to her father’s level of unreliability, but then, he’d only been in her life a