Finally, Charlie said, “Vance—I mean Mr. Waverly—is giving Jake and I a ride home.”
“Hmmm …”
“First to dinner, then a ride home,” Vance clarified.
Charlie groaned inwardly.
“I see,” Justin said, his eyes shining so brightly now it was a wonder they weren’t giving off actual sparks. “Well, then, don’t let me hold you up any longer.”
When the older man winked at her, Charlie sighed. Damage done. Justin’s romantic heart and love of gossip would take care of alerting the building to whatever was or wasn’t going on between her and Vance.
She picked up her purse from a nearby chair and slipped the strap over her shoulder. Looking up at her boss, she said, “We might as well go.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Charlie glanced at Vance. “You do realize that by tomorrow, everyone at Waverly’s will know that we went to dinner together.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve known Justin a long time.”
“So why did you say anything in front of him?”
“You wanted to keep our dinner date a secret?”
“Not a secret,” she countered as they stepped into the elevator for the short trip to the fourth-floor day-care center. “But—”
One eyebrow lifted. “Is there a problem?”
“Shouldn’t there be?” she asked, unsure what she should be thinking now. He was her boss, and now her date. He didn’t seem to care who knew, but she felt odd about the whole situation. He was making her feel things she didn’t want yet certainly enjoyed. Then there was the fact that his family had founded Waverly’s and now there was a blackmailer trying to make her betray not only him but the auction house she loved.
Could her life get any more complicated?
“I think,” Vance said, taking her hand in his, “you’re thinking too much.”
Her palm to his, heat swamped her. When he drew her out of the elevator and led her down the hall to where Jake waited, Charlie knew she was in really big trouble.
The worst part?
She didn’t care.
Vance was in hell.
He could tell because of the screaming.
When he had invited Charlie out to dinner, he’d had in mind a nice steak place. Not too elegant, not too casual. Just a nice in-between, with good service and a quiet atmosphere so they could talk. So he could try to discover if she was an enemy or not.
He had not planned on a zoo-themed diner where children outnumbered adults and the specialty of the house was macaroni and cheese.
“You look uncomfortable.”
“What?” He shouted to be heard over the screaming three-year-old in the booth behind him.
“I said, you look like you’re miserable and wishing that you were anywhere but here.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Okay, I just thought most of that, but you do look miserable.”
She didn’t, Vance noticed. Her son was in a high chair pulled up to their table. Vance didn’t know much about babies—happily—but this one seemed good-looking and far better behaved than the little tyrants running all over the restaurant.
“It’s just a little loud.”
“Is it?” She shrugged and shredded a piece of chicken onto her son’s tray table. “I didn’t notice.”
“Really?” He leaned forward, and frowned when his elbow came down in a spill of soda. “I didn’t realize you were deaf.”
She laughed and something inside Vance fisted so tightly, he could hardly breathe. When she smiled, she was beautiful. When she laughed, she was incomparable. Her whole face lit up, her eyes shone and the laugh itself was not one of those quiet, restrained society titters; this was full-throated laughter that had him grinning in response.
“I’m so sorry, Vance. This is just killing you, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad after all. “Doesn’t bother me a bit.”
“Other than making you wear the expression of a man who would like to chew off his own foot to escape.”
He frowned. “That’s not what I’m feeling.”
“Then you should smile to reassure me.”
He did and she said, “You really should do that more often. You’re far less intimidating when you smile.”
“Maybe I like being intimidating.”
“Well, you are really good at it,” she said, then leaned over and kissed her son’s forehead. The little boy grinned and kicked his feet before grabbing a tiny fistful of shredded chicken.
Vance glanced around the diner—he refused to think of the place as a restaurant. The servers were dressed in animal-print uniforms, as zebras, lions, tigers. There were other employees over by the play area dressed in wild animal costumes and they were being besieged by an army of toddlers. Vance couldn’t even fathom a worse job.
But he was here with Charlie and she was happy and relaxed, so he decided to make the best of the situation. While she had her guard down, he would gather as much information as he could. And by the end of the night, he would know if she was an enemy—or a potential lover.
Six
Vance leaned in toward her so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice above a roar. “So what did you think of the auction?”
Her gaze snapped to his and excitement shone in her blue eyes. “It was wonderful. It is every time, but today, seeing the royal jewels? Knowing that I was touching something worn by a queen more than a hundred years ago? Wonderful, if terrifying.”
“Terrifying?”
“Did you hear what that necklace sold for?” She shook her head and laughed. “I was terrified I’d drop it or accidentally twist the gold wire or gouge out a stone or something….”
His mouth quirked. “A busy imagination.”
“Oh, incredibly busy. I’ll probably drive Jake crazy as he grows up. If he gets a cold, in my head it escalates in seconds to pneumonia, then an oxygen tent and my donating a lung or something.” She paused, took a breath and said wryly, “Now that you know I’m nuts, feel free to run.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re not, are you?” She tipped her head to one side to look at him and a cascade of blond hair swung down by her shoulder like a slice of sunlight. “I wonder why.”
He wondered that, too. She wasn’t the kind of woman who usually drew him in and, yet, she fascinated him enough that he was willing to put up with complete bedlam just to sit across the table from her.
“Anyway,” she said, returning to his earlier question, “I love the auctions. Being part of the excitement, even in a small way.”
Vance nodded. “I understand that completely. My father took me to my first auction when I was ten. It was sports memorabilia. Baseball cards, Babe Ruth’s glove, Ted Williams’s favorite bat, that kind of thing.” She was smiling at him, silently encouraging him to go on.
So he did. “Even at ten, I felt that rush you were talking about. Seeing those things from the past getting a new shot at being appreciated …”
“Exactly.”