Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

He wore a black pullover V-necked sweater and a pair of formfitting black trousers. The wind had sexily tousled his well-groomed hair, giving him a relaxed look she found appealing.

Her gaze tracked over his face, soaking up his chiseled cheekbones and strong chin. She noticed that the bridge of his nose was crooked, bent slightly to the right as if once it had been broken.

Liam looked so different from the pampered playboys she normally dated. His life experience was evident not only in the sharp focus of his intelligent hazel eyes and the out-of-character tattoo at his left wrist, but also in the powerful way he carried himself, in the commanding way he spoke.

This was a man of substance.

She was surprised to find the observation made her edgy. Very edgy. Suddenly, all her self-confidence evaporated. What did she know about pleasing a high-powered businessman who’d bootstrapped his way to the top of his profession by age thirty? And she was a woman who’d been born with a blue-blooded spoon in her mouth.

His standards were high. He was a self-made millionaire, well on his way to becoming a billionaire. He was everything she was not. Logical, responsible, dedicated, driven.

Was that why he fascinated her so? Because she could never hope to understand what made him tick?

A smile tipped his lips and as his eyes met hers, his face lit up. He looked as if the Dow Jones had jumped twenty points.

Katie’s heart fluttered. He had the power to make her feel special. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Wow, you look amazing.” The appreciative expression in his eyes went a long way in reviving her poise and earning him bonus points for noticing the special care that she’d taken with her appearance.

Approvingly, his gaze traveled from her fresh new hairstyle, across the swell of the tight bodice of her aqua dress to the hemline that hit her midthigh to the three-inch stilettos that enhanced the shapely curve of her lean legs.

Noticing everything. Missing nothing. Making her feel very desirable.

“Thank you,” she said, and tried not to blush at his frank assessment.

“Are you ready to get down to business?” His hazel eyes smoldered with a mesmerizing sexuality that pushed all the air from her lungs.

“Business?”

“You do have your designs with you.”

“Yes, yes,” she said breathlessly. Oh, she’d almost forgotten about the designs.

“Good,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with.”

“I hope you like them.”

“I have confidence in you.” He winked.

He took her to Carmine’s Ristorante, a quaint family-owned Italian restaurant off the beaten path, but not far from Boston’s north end. It wasn’t the sort of place she expected a real-estate mogul to frequent. That alone impressed her.

He’d opened the door for her, lightly placing his hand at the small of her back to guide her over the threshold.

The pressure of his hand had her sucking in her breath. She didn’t know what to make of his proprietary touch or the way her skin tingled.

Her pulse leaped and instantly a dozen erotic images from the night of the Ladies League ball popped into her head. She heard the clatter of coat hangers, the sounds of their delighted groans. She smelled the scent of their merged bodies, musky and rich. She tasted the sweet flavor of sin on her tongue.

“Hello, Mr. James,” greeted the attractive, overeager young hostess. “We’ve got your usual table waiting.”

The hostess led them through the brightly lit dining room to a table in the corner. Katie wondered if he often brought dates here. It didn’t seem like a regular date place. No singing waiters. No candles in Chianti bottles. No private booths to hide away from the crowd. Most of the tables seated six or more and they all seemed to be filled with families or groups of coworkers or friends on an outing.

Maybe this really was a business meeting.

The man was sending mixed messages and she wasn’t sure how to read him. Her interest notched higher. Who was Liam James behind his reputation and his stunning success? What had made him the man he was today?

“I hope this place is okay,” he said anxiously. “It’s not trendy, but the owner and his family are friendly and the food is great.”

He was trying so hard in that moment, as if her approval meant a lot. He’s as nervous as I am, she realized with a start. She was touched that he cared enough to be nervous.

“Did the Young Bostonian article drive you underground?” she said. “Or do you always prefer to frequent out-of-the-way places?”

“You saw that article,” he said, pulling her chair out for her.

She sat down and slid her briefcase under the table. “Oh, indeed. Who could miss it? Impressive piece about Boston’s premiere hotshot multimillionaire. You’ve got the buzz, babe.”

He sat down across from her. A look of embarrassment crossed his face. “It’s a lot of hype.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

The waiter came over. Liam ordered a bottle of modestly priced white wine and antipasto as an appetizer. He wasn’t trying to impress her. Why not?

Katie was confused. She knew he was attracted to her, but he wasn’t pulling out all the stops. What was the deal?

The waiter returned with their wine and the antipasto plate heaped with buffalo mozzarella, salami, black olives, sun-dried tomato relish and thin slices of toasted garlic-bread rounds.

“Are you ready to order your main course?” the waiter asked.

“Oops,” Katie said. “I haven’t even looked at the menu.” Because she’d been too busy looking at Liam.

“They have excellent veal marsala,” he suggested.

“Veal marsala it is,” she said, and passed her menu to the waiter and thanked him.

Once the waiter had gone, she leaned in closer. The scent of Liam’s cologne mingled with the delicious smell of the antipasto. It was a bracing fragrance, hearty and substantial. “Thank you for bringing me here. I adore Italian food. It’s my favorite.”

“Mine, too.”

Strange. She’d pegged him as a sushi lover or maybe upscale French cuisine. Mr. Young Bostonian, and all that.

“Why don’t we take a look at the mock-ups while we eat?” she said. “Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Actually,” he said, reaching across the table to rest his hand on hers to stop her from reaching for her briefcase, “I have a confession to make.”

“A confession?” She studied him, still thrown by the mixed messages he was sending. It wasn’t often that any male knocked her off-kilter.

Using the food as an excuse, she slipped her hand out from under his and reached for a toast round, scooping a spoonful of the sun-dried tomato relish onto the garlic bread.

“This dinner isn’t strictly business.”

“No?” She chased the antipasto with a measured swallow of wine but never took her gaze from his face.

“Surely you knew it was pretext.” His smile was positively wicked and spiked up the heat already invading Katie’s body. “We could have had the business meeting at Sharper Designs on Monday.”

They stared at each other across the table.

“Listen,” they said in unison, then both broke off, chuckling.

“Why don’t you go ahead and show me the designs you’ve come up with?” Liam said. “Let’s get the business portion of this meeting over with so we can-”

“Get down to the pleasure?” Katie impishly finished for him.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“No,” she countered, “I’m certain you’d planned on being much more diplomatic.”

“You think I’m a stuffed shirt?”

“I think that’s the image you portray, but I know better. I’ve seen the real you in action.”