Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (the beginning after the end novel read .TXT) 📗

revealing this main goal of mine when she’s such a key player in achieving it. But, somehow, looking at Eva’s lush lips, it slipped out.

“Why didn’t you tell me this when I first asked?” There’s an accusing edge in her voice, and her ebony glance darkens a shade.

I rub my neck. “Well, I didn’t want my name to influence your decision to speak with me.”

“But you don’t mind if it does so now? What’s changed in the past five minutes?”

Wow, if she isn’t a tough cookie to reason with. How should I answer? I can’t say that I hoped hearing who I was would make her act like that gooey-eyed waitress with the generous bosom.

As if sensing my thoughts, Eva huffs. “Huh, you know what, don’t even answer. I have a pretty good idea what’s going on anyway. I’ve already put you into the right category.”

“And which one is that?”

“Number three.”

“What does that even mean?”

Eva shakes her head as if she isn’t ready to let me in on some insider secret. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve introduced ourselves like you wanted. Now please tell me what you’d like to and then let me get back to my life.”

Darn it, she’s turning the tables on me. When she came out, I was the one leading the conversation, making her ask the questions, but now she’s setting the tone. This isn’t good. I need to get her to open up before I can invite her out. Think, Nathan. What do I know about her? What makes her tick?

The expression of total abandonment that she had when she danced comes to mind, and I’m ready to throw out my next bait. “I was blown away by your grace on the dance floor. It was easily the best salsa performance I’ve ever seen.”

My voice is firm and steady, and I don’t feel bad about saying what I just did. After all, my words aren’t pure flattery. Eva’s dancing did get under my skin. Just remembering her facial expression and her soft curves swaying starts an odd thrill in my chest.

Her eyes widen, and her eyelashes flutter like the wings of some tropical butterfly. It’s clear that she didn’t expect me to say anything along these lines.

Which is exactly what I was going for.

She licks her lips. “I wonder how many salsa performances you’ve seen…but I thank you for your compliment.”

What does she mean? Does she think I’m just a boring business man who never gets out? I do dedicate a fair amount of time to social gatherings. Fundraisers, company awards, and such. Never due to my own will, and mostly after some pressure from Mother, but it doesn’t change the point.

“As it so happens…” I tap my chest. “I’ve been to Marisa Dance Hall in Havana.” I accentuate the name of the well-known theater and fail to mention that I spent most of the show going through my notes from a business meeting. “Their dancers weren’t as skilled as you, believe me.”

Eva drops her glance and rubs her chin.

Is she trying to hide a smile?

“Sorry,” she murmurs without looking at me. “I didn’t want to offend you. I can imagine that a man of your standing has seen a lot. You just didn’t strike me as a person who would love Latino beats. For that, you would need to be more…”

“More what?”

She raises her head and blinks. “More…uhm…spontaneous?”

“What makes you say I’m not spontaneous?”

Eva shrugs. “Just a hunch. You seem like a person who thinks twice before he says something. Somebody with a double or even a triple meaning or angle behind every word…”

My jaw drops.

How did Eva realize this? We’ve been speaking like what…ten minutes? I shrug. “I think spontaneity is overrated. It makes you do weird things.”

Eva’s lips curl up into a coy smirk. “Ah really? Like inviting a salsa dancer for a private chat? Because I have the feeling this invitation of yours wasn’t premeditated. That’s why you’re so uncomfortable now. Because spontaneity isn’t up your alley.”

I gape at her. She’s absolutely right. My invitation wasn’t premeditated. I’d had to come up with a quick battle plan, and it didn’t leave me enough time to work out the best ploy for how to approach her. “Well spotted.” I decide to go with the truth. “Tonight is an exception for me. But it proves I can be spontaneous if I want to. Maybe I would be a great salsa dancer too?”

Eva gives out a short giggle. “Sure. Right. Definitely a career for you to think about. You know, if your CEO position falls through.”

It won’t. Not if it’s within my power.

Eva’s giggle eases the atmosphere between us, and perhaps the moment is ripe to come out with my invitation. “So, Eva.” I clear my throat. “The reason I wanted to meet with you is because your performance, as I told you, took my breath away and…”

I cringe inwardly at my own overdramatic words. How did they even come to my lips? Then I realize that I’m describing my actual sensation as I watched her on stage. This realization is even more disturbing.

“And?” Eva asks.

“And I wanted to know if you would like to have dinner with me.”

Eva’s brows arch. “You mean now? Here?” The disapproval in her voice is palpable.

What man would offer a girl dinner in a dodgy place like this?

My eyes drift over to the only couple sitting in the dining area. The man is old and overweight, and his partner is half of his age. Exactly my point.

I glance back at Eva and shake my head. “No, of course not here. I was thinking more of…” Okay, Nathan, you need to come up with something grandiose, a proposition that will sweep her off her feet. “A dinner by the ocean.”

“Ocean? You do realize we’re not living by the seaside, don’t you?”

I do, but I need a legitimate excuse for us to spend time together. Otherwise, how is Eva going to fall for me? I only have seven days to make