Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [6]
‘Comes with the deal. And all the hotheads try to race me.’
‘I get that too,’ I sympathised. ‘Everyone wants to drag a Monaro.’
He nodded, a smile playing around his lips.
We pulled into a parking spot outside Latte Ole. I grappled for the door handle and couldn’t find it.
‘Wait,’ he instructed, and a moment later he was around my side of the car, offering his hand to help me out.
I levered out one leg, then the next.
His gaze fell appreciatively to the strip of flesh that momentarily showed between my top and jeans.
I sprang up and into his face. ‘I could eat a horse. Hope you’re paying.’
He took a quick step back. Seemed I had a natural talent for keeping him off balance.
I strode off ahead of him into the café. It was one thing to be seen with a Tozzi, but another to be seen with a very married Tozzi. Last thing I wanted was his wife, Antonia, fronting up and causing a scene.
Nick followed more slowly with his usual confident gait, smiling and nodding to people. When you’re that tall and that rich and you live in a small city, you can’t expect to go anywhere without half the room knowing you.
‘Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to be seen with me?’ he said as he folded his huge frame into the opposite side of the darkest booth I could find.
I shrugged and did an average job of looking dismissive. ‘Think that if you want.’
I glanced around the café. The closest table was inhabited by a middle-aged couple deep in conversation.
Divorce negotiations, I guessed, from the way their auras were pounding at each other.
The rest of the place was in morning beat. The slight scent of last night’s spilled beer clung to the furnishings but the refrigerated glass case displayed a mouth-watering collection of fresh cakes. I could forgive any odour for good cake.
Nick scrutinised me. ‘You’re an old-fashioned girl at heart, aren’t you, Tara?’
‘If you’re alluding to the fact that I’m not comfortable having tea dates with a married man then you’d be right.’
It came out a bit waspish, but now I was here with him I was nervous as hell. Thing was, Tozzi was so damn hot that I wanted to melt all over him. He wasn’t beautiful in the male model sense like Edouardo, with his dark curly hair, a darling face, killer abs and a fine round butt. Tozzi was a hulking man mountain packing just a teensy bit too much cabernet merlot and brie around his stomach. His face was strong rather than handsome, with a hint of the killer competitiveness that had taken him to the top levels of both sport and business. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and lips that could set in a firm, hard line or curve with sudden humour depending on the moment.
Edouardo had beauty. Tozzi had presence.
‘Stop scowling, Tara. My intentions are honourable and harmless. I have a job offer for you. Firstly, what will you have?’
‘English Breakfast tea, and orange and almond cake with cream. Please.’
He looked me up and down as if judging where the calories might go. He finished on my breasts.
‘And loving it,’ I said, doing my best Get Smart impersonation.
When the waitress arrived he ordered for both of us. She flashed him a gorgeous smile and me a quizzical look. That was when I noticed all the heads swivelling our way: Claremont and Euccy Grove mums out for coffee with their toddlers strapped into big-wheeled running strollers. It wasn’t idle perving either; more like I-know-him-and-what’s-he-doing-out with-her? kinda scrutiny. I was grateful when the waitress returned and I could dive fork-first into my cake while Tozzi poured milk into his long black.
‘I have a work acquaintance who needs help,’ he said.
‘He was too shy to speak to me himself?’
I smiled as I said it, but truth was I was curious. Tozzi wasn’t the kind of guy to act as a go-between.
‘I offered to sound you out.’
It crossed my mind that maybe Tozzi was using this job offer as an excuse to spend time with me, then quickly dismissed it. That’s the sort of thing I’d do.
‘He could use your kind of . . . talents,’ he continued.
My fork stopped in mid-air