Stone couldn’t even remember which tie he’d grabbed when he was getting dressed. He glanced down and saw that it was a narrow black one with thin, almost invisible strips of gray. Nothing spectacular, as far as he was concerned. But maybe it appealed to women. He had no idea, but Indie certainly seemed to like it. “Thank you.” He acknowledged her compliment with a nod and a smile.
“And your cologne,” she said softly. “What is it? Issey Miyake?”
Surprised, he nodded. She had a great nose for scents.
“Perfect choice,” she almost crooned. “It suits you.” Then she lifted her glass and the tip of her pink tongue slipped from between ruby lips to taste the dark red liquid. She took a slow sip and raised shimmering green eyes to him.
Stone almost groaned. If she kept this up he’d probably reach across the table for her and kiss her senseless. A man could only take so much. He shifted in his seat but getting comfortable was next to impossible just then.
He cleared his throat. “How’s your steak?” he asked as he picked up his fork again.
She blinked. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she straightened up and the smoldering embers left her eyes. Instead, the mischievous light was back and her lips curled in a smile. “Very well done, like I asked.”
He looked at the dark mass on her plate. “It looks like it’s been burned to a crisp,” he said.
“Just the way I like it,” she said with a laugh and to his relief it was a real laugh, not low and sexy and disturbing, but light and melodic and genuine. Now that was the Indie he liked.
After that, they settled into companionable conversation while they ate until Indie closed her knife and fork and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I’ll be right back,” she said, smiling. “I just need to powder my nose.”
Gracefully, she got up and turned to go but then she spun around and grabbed her tiny purse from where she’d placed it beside her napkin. Another bright smile and then she was walking away, her h*ps swaying with every step.
She was almost at the door, heading out of the private dining room, when the seductive sway of her h*ps was interrupted by a stumble and then a curse under her breath. Stone made to get up and help her but she immediately righted herself and, still muttering, disappeared through the door.
He sank back in his chair, shaking his head. Talk about a mystery woman. One minute alluring temptress and the next, swearing like a truck driver, albeit under her breath. Which one was she, really? No wonder men could never understand women. With a man, what you saw was pretty much what you got. With a woman, you just never knew…
Stone was still pondering the enigma that was Indiana Lane when she returned. And just like before, he had to do a double take. Where was the siren who had just left the table?
Indie was approaching but this was a different Indie from the one who had arrived at the restaurant over an hour earlier. The gold eye shadow was gone and so was the pink blush that had highlighted her already lovely cheekbones. And the ruby lips she’d pursed and pouted earlier? Gone. In their place were the soft pink lips that had chastised him the evening before.
When Indie got to the table she didn’t even give him a chance to get up and pull out the chair for her. Cheeks flushed, she sat down and dropped her purse on top of the table. She let out a deep sigh. “I can’t do this. It’s just not me.”
He smiled and leaned forward. “What? The makeup?”
“Yes,” she said, giving him a crooked grin. “And the high heels. I was trying to make a good first impression…or second…but my face felt like some kid had plastered watercolor paints all over it. And not to mention these darned high heels.” She chuckled. “Not exactly everyday wear for me. Let’s just say it’s been a while since I had to fit myself out in this kind of get-up.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry.”
That made him laugh. “I’m not. I’m glad the old Indie is back. She’s the one I want to talk to. As beautiful as she maybe, I don’t think a fashion pot can do the job I have in mind.”
Then it was her turn to laugh and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Fashion pot? Who the hell says ‘fashion pot’?” Then she put her hands to her lips. “Oops, sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look sorry at all. “I meant ‘who the heck’.”
Serious as a judge, he replied, “Yes, of course you did.”
Then they both ended up laughing and with that the tension was broken and they relaxed.
“Indie,” Stone said, “as I mentioned to you, I would love it if you could join my team in South Africa. I’ve adopted an orphanage there. It has nothing to do with Hudson Broadcasting Corporation. This is a personal project of mine.”
“I love the idea already,” she said, her face eager. “When can I start?”
Stone sat back, surprised. “When can you start? That sounds like you’re available right away.”
“I am.” She spoke without hesitation.
Wow, could he be so lucky? She hadn’t required any convincing at all.
“My only question is…”
Stone held his breath, knowing an objection was coming next. It had been too easy, of course. There had to be an issue somewhere.
“…will you be there, too, at the orphanage? Or will I be heading out there on my own?” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Because the only way I’ll take the job is if you come to South Africa with me. At least, for the start.”
“Well, I did plan to go with you and get you established,” he said, rubbing his chin, “probably stay a couple of weeks until you're comfortable. But then I’d have to head back-”
“Deal. That sounds like a plan to me.” She sat back in her chair, a look of satisfaction on her face.
Well, that was easy. They hadn’t even discussed remuneration or benefits but already she was accepting the offer, accepting a position she didn’t even have the full details on. Her only concern seemed to be whether he’d be there at the start or not. All his hiring should be this easy.