“Ever.” She flashed him another smile. “I’m alcohol-intolerant. It basically means that I can’t process the stuff.”
The waiter piped up excitedly. “Oh—I have that too!”
I glanced between them in disbelief, before discreetly sliding my butter knife off the table and into my lap. At this rate, there was a distinct chance I was going to need to protect myself before the dust settled. Either from my seething client, or my own conscience, evening the score.
Nick looked like he was in his own personal hell as Ella handed up her own menu so the two of them would have to share, then proceeded to order drinks for the entire table.
“We’ll have two sparkling waters, please. And we’ll start with two kelp salads as well.”
Nick was staring at the table with a thoughtful, yet vacant expression. Clearly trying to keep his head down as much as possible and let this she-beast tire herself out. But his attention snapped up when she ordered in quantities of two, not three.
He glanced at her for only a moment, before turning to me with a slight frown.
“Some green tea, right Abby?”
Once again, Malibu Barbie couldn’t help but interject.
“Oh,” she glanced up at the waiter and pretended to look highly embarrassed, “I’m so sorry. I was under the impression that Abigail probably had work to do and wouldn’t be joining us, seeing as these outings are supposed to be for just the two of us.”
My menu came down and I looked at her with cold amusement.
Really? Two hours ago, you were groveling in my office. Now, you’re dismissing me as the help? That’s really the way you want to play it?
No matter how furious he might be with me at the moment, the snide comment was enough to crack even Nick’s charming façade.
“You can’t be serious—”
“I can go,” I volunteered, suddenly hopeful as I half-rose to my feet.
Nick’s hand shot out so fast, it’s like it was super-charged.
The speed with which it happened was quite simply baffling, and the way he clamped down upon my wrist required some sort of explanation. He countered both discrepancies with a dazzling smile, flashing those dimples that never failed to get him out of a pinch.
They certainly didn’t disappoint now.
“Don’t be silly,” he forced me back down with a deceptively iron grip, as both the waiter and Ella swooned in unison, “you and I always take these introductory meetings together.”
This time, I made the mistake of accidentally meeting his smoldering gaze. While his smile remained, his eyes quite simply promised death if I left him alone.
I yanked free my wrist with a smile of my own, and rubbed it discreetly under the table.
“I always have time for you, Nick...”
“How sweet,” he said dryly, before turning back to the waiter. “She’ll have some tea, please.”
As the waiter hurried off, more confused than ever, I made a valiant attempt to pull myself together and take control of things once again.
I’m not going to lie—the crouch-grab threw me for a second. As did the fact that a girl I’d thought was simply ambitious, was actually a certifiable psychopath. But if my time spent working in public relations had taught me anything, it was that everything was a matter of spin.
This may have been my mistake—one derived from an ill-conceived plan based off an even more ill-conceived notion I didn’t fully understand—but I would fix it. I simply had to.
Otherwise, I’d be using that butter knife sooner than I thought.
And since Hurricane Ella was obviously a destructive force that none of us had the means of containing, I would simply have to act like the joke was on me too.
“So, Ella,” I interrupted her mid-rant about the benefits of testing certain kinds of make-up on animals first, “tell Nick a little bit about yourself. The same things you were telling me.”
He shot me another testy look, but she was more than willing to oblige.