She stood aside. ‘If you want,’ she muttered, unsure whether this was a good idea or not.
Iain walked into her flat, instantly filling it with his large frame. It wasn’t as if she lived somewhere small. By most people’s proportions Lexi’s London flat was positively comfortable. But just having Iain in it seemed to make the air close in around her. She was feeling completely and utterly underdressed.
He was pacing. Pacing around her flat. He had the obligatory grey suit on, with a dark blue shirt, his top button open and tie askew. ‘Look, Lexi, about earlier—’
‘What about earlier?’ she interrupted, folding her arms across her chest as it seemed the safest position for them.
He stopped pacing and took a step towards her, closing the space between them in an instant. His voice was low. ‘I’m not very good at this.’
‘Not very good at what?’ Was that her voice that sounded all squeaky? How embarrassing. He was too close. She could reach right out and put her hand on the plane of his chest. So not a good idea. It was better to keep her eyes fixed on her dark wooden floor and bare feet with their painted toenails.
She heard him sigh. ‘Saying sorry.’
Her head snapped back up in time to see him run his fingers through his hair and fix his brown eyes on hers. So not what she was expecting.
Being this close to Iain McKenzie was more than a little disconcerting. Particularly when she was partially dressed.
‘Lexi?’ he said softly.
‘What?’
‘Would you mind putting some clothes on? It’s kind of distracting, seeing you like this.’
She felt the colour rush into her cheeks. On one hand she should be glad that he found her distracting—on the other? She wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
‘I was just about to step into the bath,’ she said by way of explanation.
‘Have you eaten?’ He glanced at the clock.
She shook her head. ‘Ordering pizza was next on my list.’
He reached over and touched her arm, his warm hand circling her cold wrist. ‘Then let me take you out to dinner.’
She pulled back a little, trying not to focus on the electricity shooting up her arm. ‘It’s nearly nine o’clock. Where are you going to find somewhere that still has a table?’
He gave her a knowing smile and tapped the edge of his nose. ‘Leave that to me. Will you come, Lexi? We need to talk.’
For a second she hesitated. Was this a good idea? Maybe she could persuade Iain McKenzie that the job she was doing was actually a worthwhile one. Maybe she could persuade him to be a little more involved. Anything that would help the charity work of the clinic would surely be worth a dinner. No matter how blunt her dinner partner was.
She looked down at her pink toes. ‘What do I need to wear?’
‘You could wear a plastic bin bag, Lexi, you’d still look good.’ The words tripped off his tongue as easily as could be. He didn’t even seem embarrassed by them.
She walked off towards the bedroom. ‘That didn’t help!’ she shouted over her shoulder.
Fifteen minutes later he walked her down a street in London she’d never visited before. A warm and enveloping smell started to surround them as Iain walked towards a red-painted door and pushed it open. There was no traditional restaurant window looking out onto the street and advertising its presence. Instead there was a winding staircase up to what felt like the top of a private townhouse.
The smell was intriguing her. ‘What is this place?’ She looked around for a restaurant name or menu but there was nothing obvious.
A man appeared at Iain’s side and pulled a curtain aside for them, revealing a small intimate restaurant. ‘Nice to see you again, mate. Find yourself a table.’
She smiled at the rich Australian accent and informality of it all. The restaurant was busy, with only a few free tables.
Then reality started to hit and she took a little step backwards. ‘Isn’t that Georgie Perkins, the Oscar-winning actress?’ The woman was dressed in a green suit and drinking wine with her husband and another couple.
Iain gave a nod and pulled out a chair for her. Lexi smoothed the front of her red jersey dress as she sat down, yet again feeling instantly underdressed.
‘Hey, Iain.’
‘Hey, Kevin, nice to see you.’ He gave the man on their right a curt nod.
Lexi leaned forward and gritted her teeth. ‘Sir Kevin Bain? Chairman of the richest football club in the country?’
Iain reached over and grabbed some bread out of the basket sitting on the table. ‘Yup, him and wife number three.’ He leaned forward and winked. ‘She’s one of ours, you know.’
‘What is this place?’ Lexi asked, looking around and realising she still hadn’t seen a name anywhere.
‘It’s Frank’s,’ he said simply.
‘And who is Frank?’ she asked. ‘And how come I’ve never heard of this place?’ She pointed over at the other diners. ‘Other people obviously have.’
‘Take it from me, this place is for good eating and good wine. You won’t find any paparazzi hanging around outside the door, and it never needs to advertise.’
Lexi settled back into her chair. He was right. The place had a certain ambience about it, as if the celebrities who were there knew their privacy would be guarded. She had dined around lots of people like this, but she’d never seen them quite so relaxed—quite so unguarded. Would the same rules apply to Iain? Was this why he’d brought her here?
The guy from the door appeared and handed them menus. He looked at Lexi and held out his hand. ‘I haven’t met you before, have I?’
She shook her head and met his firm handshake. ‘Lexi Robbins. I work with Iain.’
‘Lucky man. I’m Frank. If it’s not on the menu—just ask and I’ll make it for you. I can handle all the allergy quirks, all the special diets, but if you’re a crazy who just doesn’t want any calories then I’ll pour you a glass of water and charge you a hundred bucks.’
She laughed, instantly liking the big Australian, then grabbed her stomach as it let out a little grumble.
He looked skyward. ‘My favourite noise in the world. What will it be, lady?’
Lexi handed him back the menu. She’d barely even glanced at it but felt as if she could trust his judgement. ‘I’m a chicken girl. Do anything you like with it—except give me bones.’
Frank blew some of his hair off his forehead. ‘Amateur!’ He turned to Iain, ‘Go on, master of the universe. Surprise me.’
Iain rolled his eyes. ‘If you keep talking to me like that, I won’t come back.’
‘Fat chance.’
He nodded and handed over his menu. ‘You’re right. I’ll have the usual.’
Frank disappeared muttering, only to reappear and plonk a bottle of red wine on the table along with a couple of glasses.
Iain lifted the bottle and gave a smile. ‘Are you okay with red, or would you prefer something else?’
She lifted her glass towards him. ‘Red’s fine. Just not too much.’
Iain filled her glass part way then did the same with his own.
‘To Frank’s?’
She smiled and clinked glasses with him. ‘To Frank’s. Here’s hoping the food is as good as you promised.’
Iain