Page 32 of Black Sheep
Cannon waves Warren off in favor of helping me out of the car himself. I know this is all a sham, but the heat of his hand burning through the fabric of my dress at the small of my back keeps making me forget the ruse.
The maître d’ lights up as soon as we enter the heavy blue doors that mark the entrance.
“Mr. Freeman, it is a pleasure to serve you tonight. We have your table ready for you and your lovely companion.”
With his hand on my back like it belongs there, Cannon nods at the man with a confident smile. “Thank you, Hugo. We appreciate it.”
Hugo leads us through a maze of tables in the bright space, overlooking Central Park and the statue of Columbus, and indicates a perfectly set table in a private corner with a wave of his hand. “Here you are, sir. Madam.”
After he pulls out my chair, Cannon thanks him, and Hugo backs away politely.
Now comes the awkward part. I’m staring at my boss and target across a table in a restaurant where people come to impress, celebrate, woo, seduce, and more.
The ambience in the restaurant is muted, but there’s enough background noise that I hope it’s safe to ask the question that’s about to pop off my tongue, whether I want to ask it or not.
“Can you please explain why we’re here?”
Cannon’s full lower lip presses against the upper as he studies me. Finally, after a few seconds, he says, “I told you why.”
I shake my head carefully so as not to move a single hair of my wig that Sally expertly styled. “No. Not really. You gave orders. And since I’m assuming you don’t want to say a certain someone’s name in public, let’s talk about Frank, the person I literally bumped into on the sidewalk leaving my interview with you, whose attention I did nothing to attract.”
Cannon leans back in his seat, his lips quirking, and I assume it’s with amusement over me renaming Dom CassoFrank. “Wrong.”
I blink at him like he’s crazy and shake my head. “No. Not wrong. I didn’t do anything. I swear to God. If you brought a bible, I would swear to it on that too.”
“That’s just it,” Cannon says, the other corner of his mouth lifting. “You don’t realize the effect you have on men. All men. You’re like a damned magnet. They—we—can’t keep our eyes off you.”
Silently, I curse myself for not makingDrewa little homelier. Just enough to be cute because of her awesome personality, but not enough to attract unwanted attention. But it’s too late now. It would be really hard to explain if I showed up looking different tomorrow.
I release a sigh that’s only halfhearted, becauseCannon just admitted he’s drawn to me too.Not that I should care. At all. Not one little bit.But I do.
I unfold my napkin and drop it on my lap, forcing my attention back to the subject at hand before the heat blooming between my legs gets even more out of control.
“So, Cannon, are you going to tell me what your plan is to keep me out of Frank’s clutches?”
19
Cannon
Somehow, I don’t think Drew wants to hear the plan currently in my head, because right now it involves eating her for dinner and sayingfuck the rest of this charade. Because it’s no longer an act I’m putting on for Dom.
I want her for myself.
Maybe there’s some truth to the old adagelike father, like son.
She’s vibrant and full of fire, yet mistrustful of me and everything I represent, which reaffirms her intelligence.
“So ... I take it that’s theno, I don’t have a planresponse?” Drew asks quietly to fill the silence, instead of waiting for me to gather words together and make a rational statement.
“The plan revolves around the concept of the lesser of two evils,” I state simply as I snag my own napkin off my plate. “And taking a beautiful woman out to dinner is no hardship for me, even if I am out of practice.”
Her eyebrows, several shades darker than her blond hair, shoot up. “You? Out of practice? I find that hard to believe.”
I tilt my head to the side, wondering what kind of stories she’s been told about me and who her informant was. There are certainly plenty of rumors that could be making the rounds, many of them true, but the vast majority are more urban legend than fact.
“I don’t get out of the club much, and I don’t want to talk about work,Frank, or other women. So, what do you say we just enjoy a nice dinner together?”
Her chin dips toward the table for a beat before lifting. “Like a real date?”
