Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

“Absolutely,” Reed agreed. “And, can you give me the name of a good tailor who works fast?”

Rico grinned and hopped out of the truck. “Salvatore’s. Around the corner. He’ll fix you up.”

Salvatore turned out to be one heck of a tailor. And he had a business-expansion idea that sounded as promising as Nico’s. So Reed left the store with two new suits, half a dozen dress shirts and another potential business investment.

Back at the Royal Globe Towers, he called Danielle, and her assistant put him straight through.

“Good afternoon, Reed,” her crisp voice came on the line. “How can I help you?”

“I just spent half a million dollars.”

“On a sports car?”

“No.” Reed unzipped one of the suit covers as he talked. “A bakery and a tailor shop.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Reed?”

“Yes?”

“I have a law degree from Harvard, but you’ve got me confused.”

Reed retrieved the charcoal-gray suit. Salvatore had told him he could dress it up with a white shirt or down with steel blue and a diamond-pattern tie. “I need the money to buy a percentage of a bakery and a tailor shop in Brooklyn.”

“Oh. Okay. Give me the company names. I’ll start an investigation.”

“I don’t need some bureaucratic investigation. I just need a check.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I met the guys today. I saw their operations. I looked into their eyes and shook their hands. The deal’s done. Gianni Bakery and Imperial Tailors.”

“How did you meet them?”

“I was hungry.”

“You’re losing me again, Reed.”

“Nico sells some excellent pastries, but he needs a new delivery truck. Well, two new delivery trucks.” Reed stripped off the plastic covering and stepped back. He really did like this suit.

“You ate a pastry today, and now you want to invest in his business?” Danielle confirmed.

“Pretty much.”

“Reed, wandering around Brooklyn is not a reasonable investment strategy. You can’t do things that way.”

“It appears I can.”

“Reed.”

“Danielle, it’s my money.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Okay. I hear you. But I’m looking at their financials before we cut the check. That’s not negotiable. And if you’re going to spend any more than this, you have got to talk to me. ”

“Sure,” Reed agreed easily, holding the diamond-patterned tie against the steel-blue shirt then the white one.

“You keep saying yes, and then you go ahead and do whatever you want.”

“Funny how that works.” Reed decided to go with the blue.

“You are impossible.”

“Know any good restaurants in Manhattan?”

“Dozens. What do you have in mind? Please tell me you’re not buying one.”

“I’m eating at one.”

“Good. Steak? Seafood? Greek? Thai?”

“What about French?” French was elegant. Then again, he was going with the blue shirt. “Greek. Make it Greek.”

“What part of town?”

“Midtown.”

“Try…Flavian’s. It’s near the Park, around Sixty-Fourth.”

“I will. Thanks, Danielle.”

“You’re keeping me awake nights.”

He chuckled and hung up the phone, then stripped off his cotton shirt and headed for the enormous shower that had two massive showerheads in the ceiling and six more jets in the walls. Ridiculous. He didn’t think any man needed to be that clean.

He stripped down, adjusted the water temperature and chose a small bottle of shampoo. There were still a couple of hours before he was meeting Katrina, but his stomach hitched in anticipation. He couldn’t help hoping she liked his suit.

On the other hand, he couldn’t help hoping she’d restrain herself with her own wardrobe. If she looked too good, it was going to be an awfully long night keeping his hands to himself and his promise to Caleb. Though, he supposed, it was going to be an awfully long night no matter what she wore. Katrina would look sexy in a burlap sack.

Katrina was gratified by the way Reed’s eyes darkened to gunmetal when he took in her red dress. She’d been hoping he’d like the short, clingy, off-the-shoulder number. It was made of lustrous silk with hundreds of black beads sewn into the low neckline and in a swirled pattern down one side. She’d paired it with spiky-heeled black shoes and a matching clutch.

Her hair was loose, flowing in waves around a pair of dangling onyx earrings, with a chunky bracelet and matching choker.

“We may have to upgrade the restaurant,” he told her, his gaze sweeping from her hair to her shoes and back again.

“You clean up good, too,” she teased, impressed as always by his athletic physique beneath the cut of his suit.

He was freshly shaved. His hair was neat, his shirt perfectly pressed, and his tie was in a smooth knot. He’d even forgone cowboy boots for a pair of polished loafers.

“What’s your favorite restaurant?” he asked her, stepping back in the hallway to make room for her to exit her apartment.

“Did you make a reservation?” As far as she was concerned, there was no need to change his plans.

“Danielle suggested Flavian’s.”

“Who’s Danielle?” Katrina fought a spurt of jealousy at the mention of another woman’s name.

“Caleb’s lawyer.”

“She lives in New York?”

“Chicago.”

Katrina was confused. “And you called her for a restaurant recommendation?”

“It’s a long story.”

Katrina waited, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Flavian’s is fine,” she told him. “The ballet company goes there a lot. They have a nice deck.”

She pushed down her curiosity and told herself to quit being jealous. Danielle was likely just a friend, a business acquaintance at that. In fact, it sounded as if she was a business acquaintance of Caleb’s rather than Reed’s. Which didn’t explain why Reed would call all the way to Chicago for a restaurant recommendation.

“Will you be warm enough if we eat outside?” he asked, gazing critically at the little dress.

Katrina determinedly put Danielle from her mind. She reached for the black wrap she’d hung on a hook near the door and draped it over her shoulders, tucking her small clutch purse under her arm.

“They have outdoor heaters on the deck,” she told him. Then she stepped into the hallway and pulled the apartment door closed behind her.

He lifted the door key from her hand and secured the dead bolt for her. “You do know there’s something fundamentally wrong with the dress code.”

“What dress code?” As far as she knew, Flavian’s didn’t have a dress code.

“New York City’s dress code.”

She raised her brows in a question.

He pressed the key into her palm then held out his arm. “You’re going to freeze, and I’m going to swelter.”

She replaced the key in her purse and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they started toward the elevator. “That’s so you can be a gentleman at the end of the date and let me wear your jacket.”

“You think this is a date?” he asked. There was a level of unease in his voice.

“What else would you call it?”

He came to a halt at the elevator and pressed the call button. It pinged in response, and the mechanism whirred behind the closed door.

Reed peered down at her, his gray eyes narrowing for a moment before he finally spoke. “I didn’t come to New York to sleep with you, Katrina.”

She held the gaze for a long moment, working up her courage. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

He sucked in a breath. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I think of you like that,” she dared.

“Katrina,” he warned on a growl.