Jo Leigh - Seduce Me

“Oh,” she said, and sank back in her chair. “But...” She studied the card and when she looked at him again she was clearly mortified. She’d tensed like a watch spring and averted her gaze. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. I mean, obviously that’s my picture, but not my name.”

“I—I don’t even know what to say. Except I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, some of the confusion beginning to lift. “Clearly someone at the printing company messed up. What else does the back of the card say?”

Her lips parted with a distressed gasp. “This whole trading-card thing. I never should’ve—” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Look, it’s still early.” She calmly put her napkin on the table and stood. “I hope you can salvage the rest of the evening. I really do. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

Before he could even make sense of what was going on, Natalie was halfway across the room.

3

SHE SHOULD HAVE known he was too good to be true. Stupid, stupid. So much for her brave new life. If she had any brains at all, she’d go running back to Oliver. He might be dull as dishwater but he was steady and she’d never have to worry about competition for him.

Hanna called out to her, but Natalie kept going, darting around acquaintances she didn’t want to see, damning her high heels. She should take them off, run away as quickly as possible.

“Natalie, wait.”

God, it was Max. Max Dorset. An attorney so out of her reach it made her blush to her toes. Why hadn’t she said his last name when she’d called him? That would have saved them both this humiliation.

She’d made it through the patio to the base of the stairs when his hand on her arm stopped her.

“Wait, please,” he said. “Please.”

She couldn’t simply shake him off. None of this was his fault. But facing him felt like torture. “I should be getting home,” she said. “I can’t say how very sorry I am for the mix-up.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Still, I can’t imagine that you were looking for someone like me when you filled out your trading card.”

“How do you know?”

She met his gaze finally and instead of seeing mockery in his green-blue eyes, she recognized honest confusion. “You don’t play World of Warcraft, for one.”

“You’re right,” he said. “But I have played a hell of a lot of Legend of Zelda and Mortal Kombat.”

“Recently?”

“No.”

His gentle smile made it possible for her to take a deep breath without bursting into flames. “Something tells me you also aren’t looking to get married.”

“Not at the moment, no. But I was looking for a nice time with a fascinating woman, and I got that. What I don’t understand is why it needs to end so quickly.”

Natalie couldn’t speak for a second. She hadn’t been prepared for this, and she wasn’t sure if his being great about the mistake wasn’t the best reason of all for her to walk away and not look back. “We both know I’m not your kind of woman, but thank you for being so nice about it.”

“I’m not sure I have a type,” he said, and despite his smile, she didn’t believe that. “If I wasn’t enjoying myself, I would have made an excuse to take off like a shot. Now, why don’t we go back inside? I’d still like to hear the rest of your answers. And find out what you found so appealing about this Max Zimm.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie saw a white shirt, a white chef’s hat and a very large, angry man walking with purpose. Behind him, half the staff followed.

“Oh, crap. I probably should have mentioned that Hanna is my aunt.” She spoke quickly, intending to head off the disaster. “In fact, everyone who works here is related to me in some way.”

“Why, ‘oh, crap’?” he asked, turning to look. His body stiffened and for a second she thought he was going to bolt.

“Uncle Victor,” she said, stepping out in front of Max. “Stop, please.” Holding out her hands slowed the oncoming horde. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. Max has been a complete gentleman. We’ve just had a misunderstanding.”

The army stopped advancing, although Uncle Victor didn’t look very mollified. “What kind misunderstanding?”

“There was a mix-up. I thought he was someone else and I was embarrassed. So if you could all go back inside, that would be good.”

Five pairs of eyes, not including Natalie’s, stared at Max as if they wanted him to swear a blood oath that every word she’d said was true. To his credit, his smile almost seemed real.

“Go on,” she said, herding them back. “Someone’s probably stealing all the spoons. I’ll report in later.”

“You come back in,” Hanna said. “Victor will cook something special, okay?”

“No, thank you, Titka. I don’t want to go back now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Vī pevnі?” Hanna asked.

Natalie widened her smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Her aunt leaned closer, and in a whisper that could have been heard in Times Square, said, “He’s very handsome.”

“I know he is, but someone’s waiting to pay for their meal,” Natalie said, then watched until the whole lot of them were inside.

Max cleared his throat. “I suggest we get the hell out of here before they change their minds.”

“Excellent idea.”

Halfway up the stairs, he touched her arm again. It was sweet. He was being sweet. It made her nervous and a little more excited than was wise.

Once on the street, he tugged her near the store behind them. “I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m hungry enough to eat my shoe. Let’s try this again. Start fresh. Eat. Have a drink. Talk?”

She should say no. It was utterly unlike her to even consider doing otherwise.

“Come on. We’ve already been through maximum discomfort, right?”

She didn’t argue, although she could think of half a dozen ways things could get worse. However, Max being such a mensch had her renewing her vow to never, ever go back to Oliver. Which meant getting back on the horse. No more running away like a child. “All right. But only under two conditions.”

His eyes narrowed and, damn, suspicion looked good on him. “What would those be?”

“You pick the restaurant. And when we talk, we don’t mention the cards at all.”

“Deal,” he said, his grin crooked and fine. “I know just the place.” Taking her hand in his, he walked her to the curb and hailed a taxi. He held the door for her, then gave the cabbie an address in the West Village.

* * *

THE LAST PIECE of pizza margherita was tempting, but Max let it go. He didn’t want to be too full, not for the night he had planned. Coming to Trattoria Spaghetto had been just the thing. It was an old-school restaurant—good food and decent house wine that had been served quickly.

“I still don’t know what kind of law you practice,” she said. “All we’ve talked about is movies.” She dotted her lips with her napkin and sipped her Chianti.

She’d been right to ban the mention of the cards. Not that he didn’t want to know things about her, aside from what she looked like out of that dress. The conversation had been easy once they’d settled in, and Natalie really was interesting. She could write a book about old films and restoration, a topic he’d never considered worth his time, but he’d read it cover to cover. Now that it was his turn to talk about work, he didn’t want to. Surprising, since he’d been basking in the praise from his victorious precedent-setting case.

“I’ve liked discussing movies,” he said. “It’s a lot more interesting than tort law.”

“I don’t know much about that. I mean, I know that tort is civil law, like personal injury or class-action suits, but I have no idea what you actually do.”