The voice didn’t belong to her mysterious and maddening CEO, but instead to Xavier Montrose, Cullen’s rival. The man who’d asked her out and given her his business card yesterday.
He was coming down the street towards her now, looking dapper in his blue suit and gold tie.
After the initial sinking disappointment upon realizing that it hadn’t been Cullen calling her name, Ivy found her spirits buoying at seeing Xavier Montrose walking to her.
Xavier was a suave, handsome and charismatic man, and he was smiling for goodness sake! He actually knew how to smile and be friendly!
When he reached her, Xavier gave her a sly grin. “You never called me yesterday.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was exhausted after work.”
“That Sharpe’s a slave driver,” Xavier told her, winking. “Everyone says so.”
Did he know about her and Cullen? Did he suspect what was really going on between them?
“I don’t really even work with him,” Ivy admitted. “I’m just a lowly temp.”
“Nothing about you is lowly, Ivy.” His eyes turned serious as he seemed to take her in completely. “Nothing whatsoever.”
She looked away, licking her lips. “Well, it was nice running into you, Xavier, but I’m actually—“
“No,” Xavier said, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to hear any excuses today. You’re coming with me.”
She laughed. “Oh, am I?”
“Yes,” he said. “As penance for standing me up yesterday, you must have lunch with me.” He checked his watch. “Come on, I know just the place nearby and we won’t even make you late getting back to the office.”
Ivy sighed. “Well…I suppose it can’t hurt.”
Xavier looked faux wounded. “Jeez, you really know how to make a guy feel wanted and desired, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry, my head’s in a weird place.”
He grabbed her by the arm lightly. “That’s because a strong gust of wind could blow you away, you’re so famished. A little food will do you wonders.” And then Xavier began walking, escorting her by the arm as he moved.
She went along with him, deciding that at the very least, she’d have a nice meal with a man who wasn’t afraid to express romantic interest in the normal way. It was a relief to know where you stood with someone.
Xavier’s presence was very different from Cullen’s. The blond haired man exuded a confident, humorous energy that was very different from Cullen Sharpe’s primal magnetism and Cullen’s cold, controlling, obsessive nature.
But if you like normal so much, why can’t you stop comparing everyone and everything to Cullen?
She didn’t know the answer, and that scared her a little.
No, scratch that. It positively terrified her.
They reached their destination quickly—it was called La Famiglia, and they were seated by the window, a very romantic setting—a cozy table away from the other diners.
Xavier watched Ivy as she studied the menu. “Care for a glass of wine?” he asked. “Just one.”
She sighed. “Sure.” She couldn’t believe the man had actually asked her what she wanted. Yes, he was still taking charge, but in a more gentle way.
Ivy felt her shoulders relax a little at this turn of events.
Xavier beckoned for the waitress and ordered a glass of red for each of them. “Do you like salad, Ivy?” he asked.
She smiled, once again grateful for the change of pace. “Sure. Doesn’t everyone?”
“You never know people’s tastes,” Xavier said, and coming from his mouth it sounded positively flirtatious. He turned again to the waitress. “Family style Caesar,” he said, after which the waitress left the table.
There was a moment of awkward silence as Ivy closed her menu and found Xavier watching her with a slight smile on his face.
She blushed. “I’m still not sure what I’m doing here,” she said, glancing down and then nervously arranging her utensils on their napkin.
“You’re here because I’m intrigued by you,” Xavier told her. “I was from the moment I saw you crossing the street and nearly being run over by a taxicab yesterday.”
“Wouldn’t that have been pathetic?” she laughed. “And yet somehow appropriate.”
“You’re very hard on yourself,” Xavier replied, sitting back in his seat. “Maybe that’s what happens when you work at a place like Biomatrix.”
Ivy shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You seem skittish when it comes to talking about work. Or Cullen Sharpe.”
Her gaze darted to his face and saw that his eyes were suddenly less playful and he was studying her closely.
“I know you’re a direct competitor of his,” she said. “So maybe I’m being cautious.”
“Forget Sharpe,” Xavier said, swatting the subject away as if swatting an annoying fly buzzing around his head. “I want to talk about you. Tell me about yourself.”
“There’s really nothing to tell when it comes to me,” Ivy said. “I hardly even have a story.”
“I really doubt that.”
“It’s true,” she told him. “I was raised by my mother. My father left when I was very young—I don’t even remember him.”