3. Leah

CHAPTER 3

LEAH

S tanding in the mirror in my bedroom, I tug on my tight dress. "You don't think this is too…"

"What, sexy?" Taylor asks from my tablet, where she's on a video call, curling her hair. "Do you have something against looking hot as hell?"

I chew my lip. "This is a client dinner."

"So then why did you pick a dress that makes your ass look so amazing?"

I turn in the mirror and inspect my backside. Good question.

Maybe I wasn't thinking when I went shopping last night. Instead, I was freaking out, worrying needlessly about this dinner with Jack.

And I don't know why. It will be a quick and to-the-point meeting. I won't be selling GourmetGlobal, and that's that.

"Honestly, he's wasting his time." I open my closet doors, looking for something to wear that has more fabric on it.

"Don't change. You look great. And do you really think a man as successful as him ever wastes his time? He's gotten to where he is by knowing exactly how best to use every second."

I glance over my shoulder at her. "What are you saying?"

"I think he's into you."

My face warms. "What?! He's never even met me!"

"I guarantee he's looked you up."

"He wants my business. Not me." I fumble with some heels, dropping one.

"Or maybe he wants both."

"He doesn't—" I catch sight of the time. "Oh, shoot. I have to go! I'm running late."

Even though I wanted to, there's no time to figure out something else to wear. I was supposed to leave the apartment fifteen minutes ago, but I was too distracted getting ready and talking to Taylor, and now I'm out of time.

I grab my purse and hurry out of the door, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I know I shouldn't be nervous, but there's something about Jack that makes me feel off-balance. Maybe it's his reputation as a powerful businessman, or maybe it's the way he looks at me in the pictures I've seen online — like he's gazing through the lens and right into my soul. Either way, I'm not sure I'm ready for this dinner.

When I arrive at the restaurant, an upscale one with a valet and a security guard, the hostess raises an eyebrow when I give her my name.

"Right this way, Miss Woodland." She leads me through the main dining room and into a private area that's tucked away behind curtains.

"I'm the only one here?" I ask.

She smiles slightly. "Mr. Leadsom will be here soon. He asked for us to open a bottle of wine ahead of time."

As if on cue, a waiter emerges through a door, a bottle in hand. I barely glance at the label before nodding.

As the waiter pours me a glass, I take a seat at the only table in the room and stare out the window at the garden behind the building. This place is swanky as hell, and it's making me even more nervous.

The waiter and hostess leave, and I inhale a deep breath and smooth down my dress, trying to steady my nerves. It's just a dinner. I can handle this.

But when Jack walks in the door, my confidence falters. He's even more handsome in person than in his pictures. Taller. His hazel eyes more piercing. He's wearing a suit that fits him perfectly, and the sight of him makes my heart race.

"Leah, it's so good to finally meet you." He holds out a hand, and I stand up to shake it. But his grip lasts a beat longer than necessary and sends a shiver down my spine.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Leadsom," I reply with a smile.

"Again, please call me Jack." His voice is smooth and confident.

We sit down, and the waiter pours Jack a glass of wine before bowing out of the room again. I take a sip of my own wine, trying to calm my nerves.

"Thank you for meeting in person." He leans forward, his gaze fixed on me.

"You were pretty persistent."

He shrugs a shoulder. Cocky.

But of course he is. The man basically runs this city. I doubt he can even walk down the street without being mobbed.

So it makes sense that we're tucked away in the back of the restaurant. Maybe he's not trying to impress me. Maybe he's just looking for a little peace and quiet.

Instead of looking at the menus we've been given, Jack pushes his to the side, his gaze fixed on me. "You are very talented, you know. GourmetGlobal is an incredible app."

"That means a lot coming from you," I say honestly. Even though I don't plan on selling to him, there's a lot to admire about the man. He single-handedly built his empire, and if anyone knows what consumers want, it's him.

He takes a sip of his wine and leans back in his chair, studying me. "So tell me. What's next for you? What are your plans for the app?"

"Aren't you hoping I'll say to hand it over to you?"

He chuckles. "Humor me."

"Well, we're always looking to expand and improve the user experience. We're also planning on adding a feature that will allow users to leave reviews and ratings for the restaurants they visit through the app."

"That sounds promising," he replies, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "And what about you? Do you have any personal goals you're working towards?"

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. But something about Jack's gaze is disarming, and I find myself opening up to him more than I had planned.

"I want to travel more," I admit, taking another sip of wine. "I've always been passionate about food and culture, and I want to experience more of it firsthand."

Jack nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "I can relate to that. There's something special about immersing yourself in a new place, isn't there?"

"Yes, exactly. And I want to use those experiences to improve my app even further."

The waiter hovers in the doorway. Jack holds up a finger to ask him to wait, and he basically melts back into the shadows.

"My company can take GourmetGlobal there," Jack says. "Under my guidance, it can achieve more than you ever dreamed of for it."

I suck in my bottom lip. I'm sure that he means that, but I'm also sure that we both have different ideas of achievement.

"I'm sorry," I say, "but you and I are very different. I'm sure you've looked me up, and I've looked you up too—"

"Oh, have you?" He grins, and heat flashes through me.

Is he flirting?

Never mind. I need to get my head back in the game. I can't afford to be distracted.

"With all due respect," I say, "I don't want my app to be absorbed into a large conglomerate. I like how personal it is."

He tents his fingers. "Do you also enjoy having to sell shares of it?"

This time, my skin warms up for an entirely different reason.

"I can offer you a great sum for your company." His gaze is unyielding. "Enough that you could hit the ground running with another startup, with cash to spare. Or you could never work again should you choose."

My heart races. This is a huge opportunity, and part of me is tempted.

But I know how I would feel were I to give up GourmetGlobal. Sooner or later, I would know I'd made a mistake.

"I appreciate the offer," I say. "But GourmetGlobal is my baby. It's not just about money."

Putting my napkin on the table, I stand. "I want to be transparent in that I came here intending to say no yet again, and I'm sticking with no. I don't want to waste any more of your time, so I'll be leaving now."

"Wait." He touches my wrist, and I freeze.

His touch sends shivers down my spine, the power of his presence passing through his fingers and into my skin.

"I understand your loyalty to your app," he says, his voice low and smooth. "But I hope you know that I wasn't just offering you money. I was offering you a chance to grow your app in ways that you can't even imagine. Ways that you will find satisfying."

I highly doubt that, but I also don't think I could make him understand my values. He has a reputation for being ruthless, and it seems we're just cut from different cloths.

I pull my wrist away from him gently. "I appreciate that, and again thank you. But I have my own vision for GourmetGlobal, and I want to see it through."

He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "I understand. I won't try to change your mind, so how about we scrap all talk of business and just enjoy dinner?"

I blink, caught off guard. Why would he want to still have dinner together if there's no chance of acquiring my business?

Heat rushes through me, and suddenly it's hard to speak. There's a new seriousness in Jack's eyes, and his fingertips are still brushing my wrist.

"Sure." The next thing I know, I'm sitting back down. "Let's just enjoy dinner."