Page 27 of Away With You
“I know this means nothing coming from me, but she didn’t deserve you. You’re better off without her. And one day, you’ll meet someone who will want all the same things you do and who will do whatever needs to be done to make it happen.”
His gaze is intense, and I can’t look away.Perhaps I’ve said too much?
“Thank you, Katie. When it happened, I thought I deserved this. That it was my fault that my lifestyle forced her to do what she did. But I’m slowly realising now that it wasn’t me after all…”
I jump at this. “Yes,shewasn’t the person you thought she was.”
He smiles at the venom pouring from my voice. “And perhaps I was meant to be with someone else.”
There goes my heart, thumpity thumping at his expression. It could be the candlelight playing tricks on me, or the mountainof spaghetti sending happy hormones to my brain, but it kinda looks like he’s thinking maybe I could be that someone else.
Time to go home, Katie.You are reading way too much into this friendly dinner with an old school mate, who just happens to be the hottest man ever to grace the face of the Earth. Who is also most likely still hung up on his ex.
“I’d better get going.” Standing, I push my chair back and gather my things. My hair falls over my face, hiding my heated cheeks, and I shove my arms back into the ugly coat.Why always the ugly coat?“Thanks for dinner. And for the conversation. It’s been great catching up with you again.”
He’s up and standing, too, signalling to the wait staff somewhere behind me. I rummage through my bag to find my purse, picturing my bank balance in my head and hoping in reality there are a couple of extra zeros on the end of it.
“Kitty Kat.” He frowns darkly at the purse in my hand. “Don’t even think of trying to pay for this dinner.”
I gulp at his expression, tucking my purse and my tail meekly away. It’s not like he’s not rolling in money; if he wants to buy me dinner, I guess I’m happy to accept.
“Thanks again,” I say as we walk out of the restaurant together. It’s now pitch dark and the kind of cold that robs your breath, and I’m dreading the walk from the station to my flat.
“Where are you going?” His large, warm hand cups my elbow, preventing me from moving away, and I peer up at him from beneath my lashes. He’s wearing his peacoat again, and he hasn’t shaved since I last saw him, and it all adds up to a gorgeous picture under the light of the streetlamp next to us.
“Um, home?”
He guides me to the left of the restaurant, and I spot his car from a distance. “You drove here?”
“Believe it or not, Kitty Kat. I enjoy driving.”
The night air hides my heated cheeks (I hope), and I shake my arm free. “That’s good for you. But the tube station is that way.”
He shakes his head, pressing the beeper thing to unlock his car. “I’m driving you home.”
I gape at him. “You don’t have to do this, Nathan. I can get myself home.”
His hand rests on the open car door, and his eyes take a leisurely stroll up and down my body. “I know you can get yourself home. In fact, I’m sure you can do anything you put your mind to. But I’d like to drive you home. It’s cold and dark, and it would make the gentleman in me feel better.”
I bounce on my toes, deliberating. If I stand my ground, I’m taking a stand for women-kind the world over. But if I give in, then I’m toasty warm and comfortable, and I don’t have to walk in the dark.
Hmm, decisions.
“How about this? If you decide to take the train, I’ll just have to come along with you. To make sure you get to your flat safely. The choice is yours.”
He looks determined to follow through with either decision I make, so I duck under his arm and settle into the passenger seat. If I’m forced to give in to the patriarchy this one time, at least I’m doing it in style.
“Excellent decision,” he says, leaning in and looming over me. I watch, my breath stuck in my lungs, as he reaches over and buckles my seatbelt (another fail on the women’s empowerment scale). My eyes flicker to his and are held captive as he gazes back at me. We stare at each other for several long, loaded moments before he gathers himself, pulling back and shutting the door next to me.
My breath gushes out of me as he rounds his car and gets in beside me. “You really don’t have to do this, but I’m grateful for the lift all the same.”
His expression is hard to read in the dim light of the car interior, and yet I feel the heat from his gaze all the same. “It’s my pleasure, Kitty Kat. I’m happy to make your life a little easier whenever and wherever you’ll let me.”
And with those delightful words lingering between us, I let the world-famous Formula 1 driver do as he asked and drive me home.
CHAPTER 8
NATHAN
