Chapter 4

Richard smiled softly at Amira. He didn't insist on buying the meal to prove his dominance over her or even to win the conversation they were having—which was what he normally did with his friends and colleagues. But this was different. With Amira, he merely wanted to treat her to a good time.

The past two weeks had been excruciating for him for many reasons. He'd had to tamp down every instinct he had by staying away from her. It had been for the best. Otherwise, seeing her, smelling her made him want to do other things—starting with tasting her.

But now her short tenure as his employee was over, at least he was considering it over. She hadn't asked to extend it, and that was fine by him. He couldn't survive any longer with her in his office. Plus, it meant he could finally approach her like a woman, not his employee. Which was why he'd asked her to lunch.

It had been ages since he'd gone out to eat—especially with a date. And all because he was a workaholic. That was the only thing that everyone in the office understood about him. Then there was the bad reputation he'd earned after his disastrous breakup with Carol. He'd come to see and admit that some of his personal moralistic ways toward women might be outdated. Okay, perhaps chauvinistic was a better word for how he'd previously acted, but he did nothing out of malice or hate. He just wanted to protect people, and sometimes he thought that protection should extend to protecting them from themselves. He was a llama, after all, and llamas were great at being there to snuggle that security blanket around others.

"What's good here?" Amira asked. "I normally don't go out to eat. I cook for myself at home."

"And prepare salads you forget to eat?" he teased.

She shrugged but offered him a smile that warmed his insides.

When the server re-appeared, Richard ordered for both of them. The server turned on her heel and exited to the kitchen. Richard turned to Amira with a smile, but her knitted brows greeted him.

"You know, I'm more than capable of ordering for myself."

Richard put his palms out toward her in surrender.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to overstep. It's just like I said. I was raised to treat women properly," he said as he fisted his hands. Memories of how badly things ended with Carol flooded him. He needed to work on keeping other people's feelings in mind so any future relationship didn't end so messed up again. The last thing he wanted was for Amira to look at him the way Carol had. "I'm really trying to do better… to not have everyone think I'm a dick."

Her hand went over his, and within that instant, all the tension in his shoulders released. Her touch brought with it a warmth he likened to snuggling up with a fuzzy blanket by the fireplace in the winter. The small smile she offered was like a salve on his soul.

"I can understand where you're coming from. Growing up, every male in my family felt they knew what was best for me—the family's little lamb. And then once I got out of Zagan's warehouse of horrors, they all doubled down. Like they literally tried to map everything out for me. At first, I didn't mind so much because I was working on myself and trying to find what normal was again. But with things like what I want to eat—well, I just prefer to use my own voice. Does that make sense to you?"

"It does." He gazed into her turquoise-colored eyes, searching for a reason why things felt so different with her. Carol had held on to each resentment until it boiled over into an irreparable situation. But Amira was actually confronting things and not making him feel like an ass. She was… giving him a chance? His breath caught at the thought.

"Most of my life after captivity was about keeping quiet, while others did what they thought was best. Now that I'm an agent, I want to do more for myself."

"So, you're okay with me opening up the door for you and pulling out your chair, but you don't want me to order for you, even if you tell me what you want ahead of time?"

"I think that, since we're having professional working lunch, it would be best to let your employee order for herself." She smiled again, and this time, she made certain it reached her eyes. It was infectious enough to make him light up as well.

Even if she had just reminded him that the feelings he was having toward her were inappropriate. He was still her boss, even if only for a few more hours.

Temporary boss, he told himself. She was filling in, and then she'd be back working for Stan, who'd promised to send a new replacement assistant. This time, Richard didn't want to look at resumes. He didn't even want to do an interview. Truthfully, he wanted Amira back. She'd proven to be even better than Quinn. But he couldn't keep her as his employee. It seemed more likely that he'd be able to find a replacement for an assistant than to ever find another woman who made him feel the way Amira did.

"So, we are friends? Or can we be more than friends at some point?" Giddy, he committed some serious verbal diarrhea, and no Pepto would cure this folly. He bit his lower lip the minute it came out of his mouth.

Her eyes flicked from his eyes to his mouth and damn it! His dick grew three inches just thinking about how her vanilla-scented lip gloss tasted as he'd swirled his tongue over her upper and bottom lip on the elevator. The scent on those lips alone was intoxicating—never mind the rest of her. But oh, how he wanted to claim those damned lips as his.

Fuck!

Here she was, pouring her heart out to him about how she wanted to be treated, and all he could think about was staking a Neanderthal claim on her. And damn it! To him, she was his in so many ways.

His inner llama insisted that this was it. A relationship with Amira would be different than any other relationship he'd had. Even his ex, Carol, hadn't been like this. Because Amira, the little lamb? It had taken him two weeks to stop avoiding the truth. He'd finally admitted to himself that she was his mate.

He never thought he'd find a mate. The woman who'd make him want to be a better man. Just her palm over his hand as he was contemplating man, woman, Darwin, and possibly existentialism was making him believe in everything she was and all that they could be together. She had all the answers he was seeking. He was sure of it.

And on the elevator, she'd admitted that the attraction wasn't just one-way. She'd kissed him back. But did that mean she was on board with the mate thing? If she wasn't, he'd be devastated. There was no dating someone else. She was it for him.

Her teeth brushed her bottom lip before she pressed them together.

Fuck, that was hot!

"Richard, you haven't asked me if I'm going to return to your office after my mission."

"I already told Stan he could send a replacement." At his brusque words, her face fell, and he realized what his statement sounded like. "I assumed you don't want to come back! If you did, I'd be lucky to have you. You've done a great job. I just assumed you'd be moving on."

"Oh."

"Did you want to return?" He did it again. Spoke without meaning to. Why was this woman making him so comfortable that he lost his filter? Why did he feel like he could tell her exactly what was on his mind? He'd never done that before—not with anyone.

She placed her palm over his hand again, and the heat it gave off made his dick twitch in tortured ways against the zipper of his pants. Why did he pick today of all days to wear Dockers? The light color would surely give his erection away once he stood from the table, because damn! This woman wasn't giving his member any reprieve.

He shifted in his seat to readjust himself, just as she patted his hand before drawing back into her seat. And shit, did he miss that heat!

"Let me think about it."

He swallowed because his mouth had instantly gone bone-dry when she uttered the words. It was a near rejection, but he didn't believe it really was, not with the way her eyes smoldered as she looked at him. The same way they had when he'd done the almost unthinkable and kissed her in the elevator. "Think? As in, I didn't make a complete ass of myself in the elevator?"

Well, crap, crap, CRAP! And fuck the acronym! He was in this deep now. He'd shown his hand to her instead of keeping it close to his chest. His eyes grazed over hers, and to his amazement, they were still locked on his. Fuck! Were they really? Or was he just imagining things now because he wanted her so much?

She shook her head before responding. "No. You didn't screw up. And honestly…" She intertwined her fingers with his before she continued. "If we weren't working together, I'd consider this a date."

"Oh." His mouth became bone-dry again as he sucked in a breath. She would consider this a date if they weren't working together—well, damn! Now he really hoped she'd decide not to come back to work for him!

"Hey, we only have a few hours left of working together," she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "There's no reason this couldn't be kind of a date. At least, in the get-to-know-you sense."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we hardly spoke to each other these last two weeks. I feel like I don't know anything about you. For instance—money aside—what is your greatest passion in life? What do you want to achieve?"

Being with you, was the only answer he could come up with. Instead of saying it out loud, he said, "You first."

"Okay." She nodded once and took a sip from her water glass. "Money and other factors aside, I would have loved to pursue archaeology. There's just something about unearthing history at a dig site that tugs at my heartstrings."

His heart swelled at her candor, as well as the realization that they had something in common. This woman before him was just as passionate about history and culture as he was. "I've always thought going on a dig would be amazing. Especially after watching Josh Gates unearth a mummy live on Expedition Unknown."

"You watch Josh Gates?" Amira's eyes blinked in surprise.

"I do." He nodded. "My interest probably stems from the summer my mother took me to the Met. I spent almost an entire day in the Egyptian exhibit alone. I refused to see anything else. My mom had to extend the trip one more day to go through the rest of the museum." He chuckled at the memory.

"She sounds like a good mom," Amira remarked.

"You know it." He held up his glass in mock cheers to her memory. "She always taught me to go after what I wanted. Which is part of why I joined FUC. I wanted to travel, see the world, go on adventures."

"I can relate," Amira agreed. "But I'd be afraid to explore some areas."

He found himself nodding at everything she was saying. "What are you afraid of?"

"My fear factors would be that I can't swim and have an irrational fear of snakes."

"You can't swim either?" he asked, inadvertently admitting a weakness. When she raised an eyebrow, he answered her unasked question. "Not a lick, myself, and I know that sounds crazy for a llama. We are supposed to be excellent swimmers. But…"

"You have this innate nature where you can't let go or relax, and therefore, you can't float in a body of water because of it."

He raised a brow at her and quirked his lips into a smile. "That's oddly specific and almost spot-on. I don't know how to relax; perhaps that's why I always freak out in the water when I try to float. I just don't seem to have the relaxation gene in me, I guess."

"I think it's something you can work on though. I mean, anyone can work on, not specifically you." She chuckled, and he couldn't help but think about how if she was involved, he could certainly learn to love relaxing.

"This is nice… talking," he said, his smile growing wider as she spoke. How could this gorgeous woman understand so much about him? So many others didn't. Especially at work, where they were so quick to judge him. Not that he could blame them because he'd always blundered his words.

"You don't have a lot of friends?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not good at making them. I wasn't socialized much as a kid, since my father was in the military and we moved around a lot, making it hard to have lasting friendships. Not learning to do it young makes it harder to open up to anyone as an adult."

"That must have been a lonely childhood," Amira suggested with sympathy in her eyes.

"Sure, at first it was lonely. But when my father sprang for my first computer, it opened up a whole new world for me."

"You didn't have to be the new kid in school anymore," she surmised.

"Exactly. I could make my screen name anything I wished. I could put out there only what I wanted others to know about me."

"So, what was it?"

"What?"

"Your screen name."

"Oh." He felt a little bashful to admit it. "Digger. Dig, for short. I used it because many of my online friends used to poke fun at the lighthearted digs I'd give everyone while they were playing online with me. Dig just seemed to stick."

"And it goes with the archaeology thing," she pointed out.

"Too bad Dig is lost and most people call me Dick instead, now." He screwed up his mouth in disappointment, but Amira tsked.

"I'd like to see that lighthearted side of you," Amira teased. "You have a reputation for such seriousness. I've never heard of you being a jokester. I mean I guess there's not a whole lot of room for that when you're the big guy in charge."

"Yeah. You really get me. You have a talent for reading people." He let out a sigh as he rested his chin on his knuckle. And damn it, that was probably the stupidest thing he could have done. He must have looked like a school-aged kid with puppy-dog eyes to her.

"I'm not so sure," she replied.

He furrowed his brows in response. Why was she second-guessing her talents? "I'm serious about this. You are great at understanding others."

She smiled, but the smile didn't seem to reach her eyes. She finally said, "I don't know that it's a talent of mine, as much as it's the fact that you don't often have people around you who want to know you. It can't be a secret to you that people at work have a hard time understanding you."

His face fell. "Yes. I'm aware. I know there's not a lot of people who think too kindly of me."

She held up her palms. "Now wait, hear me out. I heard all the talk about you being a chauvinist, but the more I get to know you, the more I can't agree with the rumors. You aren't a chauvinist. You have a general respect for women. Your only fault is that you're a little old-fashioned about it. And who can fault you for that? I sure can't!"

She patted his hand for reassurance, but the embers it stoked with the heat it left were undeniable to him. She really was his everything—his mate.

"I'm glad you see things that way. I never intended to piss my employees off. Quinn finally made me realize I ask a lot from my assistants."

The server came with their meals, and they ate in comfortable silence, gazing at each other occasionally and smiling, but Richard wanted more.

"So, tell me a little more about yourself. I find it fascinating that you wanted to go into archeology before you decided to become a FUC agent."

"Well, it's not just archaeology." She took in a breath before continuing. "I also loved art history."

"Really? What are your favorite works?"

"The Starry Night," she said enthusiastically. "I'm a big fan of Impressionists because of the brushstrokes. They have a calming effect on me when I gaze upon the paintings. But I think the artist I admire the most is Rembrandt. He was meticulous when he worked on portraits. It takes a special skill to work on your own mug first before you try painting others. For that I truly admire him because I don't think I could do that myself. He really inspired me to try my hand at drawing."

"You draw?"

"I can only do animals," she said, ducking her head. "I suck at people's faces. They just don't look real to me. They look more like a character from the Brothers Grimm." She laughed, and he could swear it filled the room.

"So, you're a creative? Like, have you tried your hand at anything else? Sculpting, writing, or music, perhaps?" he asked as his eyes fixed on hers.

"Yeah. I've tried them all, but writing is probably my favorite. It's kind of a guilty pleasure of mine to write about fictitious characters."

"Really?"

She smiled brightly, and that made his dick twitch.

"Yup! And sometimes I write about them so I can kill them off in a story." She pulled back slightly and shrugged her shoulders. "It's sort of therapy in a way. You know—because killing is wrong." She gave him a wry smile.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "I take it some people annoy you, and that is why you have this feeling of offing them in a book?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

She licked her lower lip, and Richard wanted to suck on it, just to have a taste of her. It was then that the server came with the bill.

"I'm just going to leave this here. If you need anything else, let me know."

Richard glanced at his watch and discovered they'd already been at the diner for over an hour. He was the boss and could allot two hours for a lunch meeting, but as he gazed at her, he realized she was probably uncomfortable being away from the office for this long when she wanted to wrap things up. He plucked his card out of his wallet and handed it to the server, and she went back to the terminal to process the payment.

"Thanks again for lunch. The vegan meatloaf was delicious," Amira said as she patted his hand. "Maybe we'll do it again sometime."