Taught by the Tycoon (3 page)

Not that it was a rarity. They were often alone in the office or while traveling, yet never when it didn’t include business. And this most definitely was
not
business.

What had driven him to invite her to dinner? No doubt the curiosity about this ‘wealthy’ man she was considering dating. But there was more to his invitation. He wasn’t foolish enough to lie to himself.

There was a curiosity burning within him. Who was this man was she considered becoming involved with? Unless this was all a ruse to gain his attentions and flirt in a roundabout way?

The idea clicked to life in his head, at first a sardonic afterthought, but then it clawed its way into possibility.

Hmm
. He leaned back and observed her through narrowed eyes.

Was it possible Rachel had felt the same brief attraction he had on that night in Paris? Maybe, in the past few months, she’d been struggling with how to approach him about it and was using a fictitious man to bring them together?

Damiano was not only her boss, but also the close friend of her older brother. Surely it would be difficult, and complicated, for her to come straight out and admit a sexual interest.

It was an interesting concept for certain. But would he be so rash as to act upon it if his theory was right? Would he even want to?

He slid a slow gaze over her, noting the tiny furrow between her eyes as she studied her menu. Her lips were on the smaller side, but when she flicked her pink tongue out to wet them, his body responded.

Her clothes were lackluster. Her demeanor was almost conservative at times, but even still, he realized the answer was yes. He wanted to act on this seedling of attraction that had become noticeable in Paris. Whether it was wise was another question.

“I insist on paying for my own dinner.” Her words were laced with a tension that matched her fingers clenching the menu.

“And I insist on denying you that right.”

She glanced up at him and her mouth rounded. “This isn’t a business dinner, Damiano. I couldn’t possibly—”

“I am enjoying your company for a meal that I invited you to,” he said gently. “Please, you must allow me to pay.”

She looked conflicted and then resigned. She clearly knew him well enough to realize she would not win this debate. Still, when it came time to order, he noticed she picked what was likely the lowest priced item on the menu and refused any side dishes. His lips twitched as he ordered enough for them both.

“Tell me about your friend who lives with you.”

The tension visibly eased from her shoulders. “Lexi? Oh, she’s my age. We met at NYU. Which is why she’s completely broke.” She grimaced. “And I would be too if I hadn’t been given this job.”

“You earned it. You’re a bright, amazing young woman.”

“Thank you.” She laughed. “Nobody will ever say that you aren’t charming.”

“No charm intended.” Perhaps a little, but it hardly mattered when he spoke the truth. “So you invited her to live with you.”

“Yes. She pays half the rent, which I’m not sure she can even afford, but she says her pride insists upon it. I’d pay the whole thing if she let me. I enjoy her company.”

He could understand that. She must feel quite alone with Theo moving to London to expand his company, but surely her parents were still in New York?

“Do you not see your parents all that often?”

“My parents moved to Israel a year ago.”

His brows rose. “You never mentioned that. Another archeological dig?”

“Of course.”

He knew her father had traveled frequently during her and Theo’s childhood. Which was why Damiano had often kept one eye on his own schooling, and the other on the girl who’d been five years younger than him. Almost like a sister, and yet not.

There was nothing remotely sibling like in the emotions running through him now. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine and her eyes a bit brighter. She was more relaxed than she’d been all night. She was lovely.

And he didn’t like it one bit that he was noticing it.

“More wine?”

Was that smart? Rachel wondered. “Oh, well, I suppose.”

He lifted the bottle of wine and poured more into her glass, and she wondered briefly if she should be protesting. Surely with the way he kept topping it off she’d already finished an entire glass by now?

“So this man you’d like to date. Will you tell me more?”

His soft request should’ve made her nervous, but the wine was doing wonderful things for her nerves. Still. She would have to bite her tongue on just how much she confessed.

“He’s attractive.” She took a sip. “Mmm. And a bit of a public figure.”

“Is he near your age?”

She hesitated. “He’s a littler older. Mid-thirties.”

“Practically in a senior home. I’ll see him there.”

Laughing, she shook her head and met his hooded gaze. “Hardly.” She lowered her lashes.

Damiano was thirty-two, she knew, but even if he were sixty, she had no doubts that this man would turn the heads of women of all ages. Damiano was classically handsome. Timeless. Like old Hollywood royalty. Now, in his prime, he was lethal to the female hormones.

Which she shouldn’t even be acknowledging. She had to keep her boss as a completely non-sexual entity in her mind. Noticing how handsome he was, how charming, would only bring trouble.

She wanted to imagine him as an older brother again, just as she’d seen him as when she was a child. Unfortunately that older brother theory had gone out the window when she’d walked into his office for the interview and come face to face with him all grown up.

Time to get her mind off of Damiano’s level of attractiveness, and back to why she’d sought his help in the first place.

“So I’ve been thinking about it, and you’ve caught my interest with a comment you made.”

He took another sip of wine. “Any one in particular?”

“The one about helping me learn my utensils.”

Amusement flashed across his face. “You would like reminder lessons after all?”

“Well,” she took a deep breath and plunged on with it. “Something along those lines.”

Damiano set his glass of wine down and studied her through narrowed eyes.

She was serious?

“I mean, not necessarily the utensils thing. I’m pretty solid on that, but if you could give me some advice. Some pointers.”

He arched a brow. “You would like pointers? On what exactly?”

She sighed. “I wish I knew. I date blue collar, not billionaires. I don’t know what’s expected of me. How I should look. How I should behave. I just need some insight on what I’d be getting into if I said yes to—” She broke off and looked down. “If I said yes.”

If she said yes.

Damiano might have been more irritated about her intents to charm this mystery man, if he wasn’t beginning to suspect this man didn’t exist. All her answers about this potential beau had been vague and brief.

And now she wanted his opinion on how a woman dating him should look? Act? Had he really ever paid much attention? A beautiful woman on his arm who would transition smoothly into his bed had generally been the prerequisite.

“I certainly don’t think you need to change your personality to fit into some cliché, Rachel.”

She arched a brow. “Don’t I?”

All right, sure, he’d play along with the fake love interest story. “No. And clearly if this gentleman has sought you out, he is interested in who you are already.”

Rachel made a harrumph before taking a sip of wine.

Why she dismissed that comment was baffling. What Damiano himself enjoyed most about Rachel was what made her stand out from all the other women he’d been involved with.

“You’re sweet...”

She grimaced. “Sweet is the kiss of death. It’s the equivalent of a woman saying, ‘Look, you’re a nice guy’.”

Was it? “You’re quirky, and cheerful. Perhaps too cheerful first thing in the morning, but it’s endearing.” He smiled and studied her from beneath hooded lids. “You’re real.”

“Men don’t want real.”

“Of course they do.”

“No. They want a polished Barbie on their arm.”

“Some do, undoubtedly.”

“You being one of them,” she quipped back.

The denial was on his lips, but he held it back because she was right. Maybe it hadn’t been done so deliberately, but there was certainly a type of woman that ended up in his bed. Usually blondes who had more curves than brains.

“I suppose I’m a little guilty of that at times,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I could give you a crash course lecture on what it’s like to be the woman in my life.” He paused and gave her a pointed look. “Or this other man’s life.”

“Right. I understand, of course.” Rachel nodded, and she looked suitably disappointed.

An idea slid into his head and took root. “It might be much more effective if you just came with me to a social event.”

Their food arrived and he turned his attention momentarily to the plate before him. He sliced into the Kobe steak and then took a bite, savoring the beef almost as much as Rachel’s astonished expression.

“So, what do you think?”

What did she think? How the hell was she supposed to respond to that? What did it even mean?

“I...surely you can’t be serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He gave a slight shrug.

“Because you’re my boss.” She gripped her fork so tight she was amazed it didn’t break in half. “We’re already blurring the professional line by going out to dinner tonight.”

“Rachel.” He set his own fork down and folded his hands on the table. “We grew up together, your brother is one of my closest friends, and you’ve worked for me for the past three years now.”

She hesitated. “Okay, yes, but—”

“We spend quite a bit of time together. It’s not unnatural that we’d develop a friendship of our own.”

“You consider us,” she paused, trying to digest his words, “friends?”

“Do you disagree?”

“No, it’s just, you don’t
have
friends,” she blurted. “Well beyond Theo, who you don’t even see anymore.”

Fortunately he looked amused as he reached for his fork again. “Hmm.”

“Okay, so that came out wrong. I mean, jeez, I’m so sorry.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that I never see you with anyone besides women. It’s not as if I see you go out with the guys to a Yankees game or anything.”

“No, I don’t. Besides the fact, I prefer football. Or, wait, soccer as you Americans prefer to call it.” He frowned, glancing at her plate. “Is something wrong with your pheasant?”

“No. No of course not.” She quickly cut a piece and popped it in her mouth. After swallowing the bite, and vaguely noting it was freaking amazing, she gave an overtly bright smile. “It’s wonderful.”

“Good.” A smile tugged at his lips as he continued to eat. A few minutes later, he murmured, “Perhaps you’re right. My friends might fall more in the acquaintance category. I am quite selective with those whom I trust in life.”

She nodded, knowing that about him. “I am too.”

“So you’ll do it then?”

“Do what?”

“Accompany me to a social event.”

“It’s not weird? You don’t think—”

“I don’t think anything. And you
over
think too much.”

“Yes, I know I do,” she agreed absently. “So I would go as your, um, personal assistant? That would be a little awkward.”

He took another bite, chewing slowly, and seemed to be either enjoying the beef immensely or in deep thought.

After a drink of wine a moment later, he met her gaze. “Or you could accompany me as my date.”

Rachel missed the bite of meat she’d been trying to stab, and her fork screeched across the plate. Her mouth went dry and her pulse went into double time.

His date
.

He laughed softly. “We would not actually be dating, Rachel. The world is accustomed to seeing me with a woman on my arms. Why shouldn’t it be you?”

Of course. Why shouldn’t it be me
? Struggling not to let out the disbelieving laugh in her throat, she reached for her wine. Crap, it was empty.

“It would be a pretense,” she stated unsteadily.

“Of course.”

“But they’ll know me as your P.A.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Would it really matter?”

She usually stayed beneath any media radar. And she’d be even more unrecognizable if she got all dolled up in a fancy dress and makeup—which is what she assumed would be required for the type of social events he frequented. Her stomach churned.

“And if the media asks about me?” She knew the tabloids. They were relentless with him. They would want to know the latest girl on his arm.

“We’ll tell them the truth.”

“That I’m your P.A.?”

“Of course, and that you’re the sister of a good friend, whom I am taking around New York.”

This was a bad idea. Everything inside her screamed that it was. She’d hoped Damiano would have some dating advice, but instead he was asking her to pretend to be his date for an evening.

When he moved to refill her wine, she shook her head in dismissal. She needed to keep her thoughts straight.

“Something to think about anyway.” He smiled, flashing beautiful white teeth, before he turned back to his dinner.

Something to think about for sure.

Despite her protests, Damiano requested his driver take Rachel home.

He stared out the window, observing the Brooklyn neighborhood with some fascination. He rarely left Manhattan, and when he did it was on a helicopter or his private jet, to be whisked away to somewhere outside of the city.

Rachel had been silent nearly the whole ride, but he’d felt her gaze sliding to him now and then.

She was tempted by his offer, he could well see this. What he couldn’t understand was why she hesitated. Surely he was offering her exactly what she wanted, wasn’t he?

This would be a slow, non-threatening way to test the waters of a physical relationship between them.

And, hell, but with the way she sat tucked into the corner of his vehicle, all wide-eyed and nibbling her lip, he very much wanted to make things physical.