Jet Set Confessions. Maureen Child
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in the backyard?”
“You’re a hard sell, aren’t you?” He stared into her eyes and liked the feeling of being pulled in. A damn shame, he thought, that he could have a real conversation about what was important to him with a stranger—but his own grandfather wouldn’t listen.
“I’m just saying that being comfortable with tech at a young age will make them more accepting of it later.” As an example, he said, “We use colors and shapes and sound to get their interest.” He was warming to the theme, as he always did. “They learn without realizing they’re learning. Studies prove out that children who are challenged rise to the occasion more often than not.”
“But aren’t there just as many studies saying that it’s not good to introduce small kids to tech too early?”
“You sound like my grandfather,” he said.
“Thank you?” She laughed a little. “Not trying to argue, I just think that there are two sides to this and maybe your grandfather has a point.”
Luke grumbled under his breath. It wasn’t easy arguing for the future when everyone wanted to cling to the past. “My grandfather won’t even listen to the arguments on this, so it’s pointless to try any further.”
“Have you listened to his side?”
Luke took another sip of his scotch and studied her. He was trying to decide if he should keep talking or change the subject. She took care of that for him.
“It sounds interesting,” she said. “And a little scary.”
Frowning, he sipped at his scotch. Now that too sounded like his grandfather’s argument. “Why?”
“Because I like watching little kids pick dandelions or splash in mud puddles.” She shrugged and took another sip of her wine. “They should be outside, running and playing. Seeing them staring at a screen instead just seems wrong. I mean, once you grow up, you’re always on a computer. Why start before you have to?”
“Because it’s fun?”
“If you say so.” She shook her head and her gorgeous hair slid back and forth across her shoulders. “I have a love-hate relationship with my computer.”
“You like email and the internet, right?”
“Sure. But I hate a full inbox. Drives me crazy.”
“A full inbox means your business is doing well.”
“Except for the spam.”
He brushed that off. “Downside to everything.”
He wondered why he wasn’t as irritated with Fiona as he became with his grandfather when they had pretty much this same conversation. His phone buzzed, and Luke glanced at the screen before shifting it to voice mail. He wasn’t in the position or in the mood to take a call from his grandfather.
“You don’t have to get that?” she asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay, then.” She set her wine down on the table.
His gaze dropped to her fingers sliding up and down the faceted stem of the glass.
Instantly, his body went rock hard again.
“So,” he said abruptly, “since I’m pretty much trapped in this chair for a while, why don’t you stay and have a late lunch with me.”
She chewed at her bottom lip and with every tug of her teeth, Luke felt an answering tug inside him.
Finally, Fiona said, “I suppose that’s fair, since I’m the reason you’re trapped in that chair for a while.”
“You are.” He hadn’t planned on company, but what the hell? Beautiful woman or doing email alone? Not really a contest.
“Okay, then.” She crossed those great legs and swung her right foot lazily. Propping her elbows on the table, she leaned in and smiled. “Feeling better yet?”
He should have been. But he was still hard, and he missed the feel of her lush body plopped on top of his. That probably made him a masochist.
“Strangely enough, no.”
A slow, wide smile curved her mouth. “Just what I was thinking.”
Heat pulsed inside him and fed the flames keeping his dick at full alert. Hell, at this rate, he was going to have to hire someone to walk in front of him just to get out of the damn restaurant.
She picked up her wine, took a sip, then flicked out her tongue again to sweep away another stray drop from her top lip. Fire burning even hotter now, he thought.
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “Is it working?”
“Too damn well,” he admitted, and her smile spread further.
When the waiter brought menus, she flipped through hers until she got to the burgers.
Surprised, he asked, “A woman who’s not going for a salad?”
She lifted her gaze to his and shook her head. “That’s completely sexist. You know that, right?”
He shrugged the comment off. “Every woman I’ve ever taken to dinner ordered some kind of salad.”
“Clearly, you’re dating the wrong women.” She closed the menu and folded her hands on top of it. “I’m an unapologetic carnivore. Burgers. Steaks. Love them all.”
Nodding, Luke just looked at her, enjoying the view. “Good to know. And today? Burger or steak?”
“The San Francisco burger, hold the avocado.”
“You don’t like avocado?”
“Ew.” Her features screwed up. “No.”
“I don’t know if I can have lunch with you after all,” Luke said.
Her eyes sparkled. “So you have standards?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“And avocado is one of them?”
“We live in California. Guacamole is a way of life here,” Luke said.
“Not my life,” she assured him. “I love Mexican food, but avocados are a deal breaker. It’s a texture thing. They’re too slimy.”
“Have you tasted one?”
“God, no. I have standards, too.” She grinned and Luke’s insides stirred again.
The waiter came back, Luke gave him their order, then leaned back with his scotch to study the woman who had become the focus of his attention. Her bare shoulders made him think about sliding that pretty green shirt down her arms so he could feast on her breasts. His dick hardened even further, though he wouldn’t have thought that possible, and his hands itched to touch her.
Fiona shifted beneath his steady stare and fought down the rise of heat threatening to engulf her. She seriously had not been prepared for the rush of something…tantalizing that she’d felt the moment she saw Luke Barrett. But how could she have been? All she’d had was his picture and a brief description of where she was most likely to find him.
No one had said his eyes were the color of the ocean on a summer day. Or that he was tall and muscular beneath that well-cut suit or that his hair was too long and sun-streaked. And there was no way she’d expected the deep timbre of his voice to rumble along her spine.
Mostly, though, she hadn’t been prepared for the hot, throbbing ache that had settled between her thighs from sitting on his lap and feeling the hard press of him against her. Just remembering made her squirm