My heart was racing as I left the main building and walked towards the north gate. Camille had insisted that I absolutely had to be late, showing the man I wasn't that eager.

It was five minutes past 12. So I was late, as advised, and I hated it.

North gate was reserved for executive vehicles. As I approached it—don't run, Camille had instructed me—I saw a tank-sized limousine standing just inside the gate. Its bald, bearded driver leaned against the vehicle's side. As I got closer, he watched me unsmiling, his eyes scanning my body, undressing me. I glowered at him. He pulled up one corner of his mouth, stood, and opened a rear door for me. I slipped inside.

Thierry waited inside, eyebrows raised. "Hello, Anne."

"Hi, Thierry." I stretched into the leather seat, surprised by the ample leg room. "Sorry to be late."

"Yes?"

Was that a question? I decided to ignore it. "Where are we going?"

"Elaine's."

"What's Elaine's?"

The car left TCorp's premises and accelerated towards the highway.

"A restaurant, in Bluecrest."

Bluecrest was an upscale suburb, not the kind of neighborhood I usually frequented.

"I've never been there," I said, attempting to break the silent spell that had settled like an elephant on the rear seat between us.

"Good." He nodded, his gaze on the driver before him.

What had happened to the verbose and charming man who had danced with me last Friday? Was the guy pouting at me for being late? Did I hurt his manly pride?

I crossed my arms and started counting the tiny dimples in the leather of the seat in front of me. If he wanted silence, he could have it.

Disaster had struck once more. But I wasn't going to grovel in the dirt for this man, begging forgiveness for being five minutes late.

~~~

Bluecrest was bordering the ocean, separated from it by cliffs of bleached rock. Elaine's was a white-painted, colonial-style building with a terrace offering a breathtaking view over the blue water. We had a table right at the edge of the cliff. A wooden banister separated us from the sheer drop to a messy death.

We hadn't spoken much on the rest of our way here.

He studied the menu, concentrated on his reading, a frown knotting his brow.

I wasn't planning to spend this lunch in silence. "Okay, what's the matter?"

He looked up. "The matter?"

"You're so silent."

"Oh... you were quiet and looked exhausted. So I wanted to give you a moment of peace." A faint smile was on his lips now.

I sat back. "I was just waiting for you to lead the conversation. Leadership... you mentioned it after our dance at the party. It seemed quite important to you."

His smile grew in width. "Oh, you've been listening. That's rare, these days. But, you see... leadership implies that others follow."

"I did follow you here. All the way." I gestured at the scenery and decided to make a peace offer. "It's beautiful, by the way."

He chuckled. "Yes. You did follow... after all. And it is beautiful, you're right... that's why I took you here. It suits you."

"I..." A wave of heat touched my cheeks. Was I blushing? My complexion was fair, and I did blush easily. I took a deep breath. "Thanks."

Was I now forgiven for being late? I hoped so—and I hated myself for hoping so.

It was time to change the topic. I picked up the menu. "So, what can you recommend?"

From that moment, our conversation ran smoothly. He advised me on the dishes, and I ordered what he suggested. We talked about food, about restaurants, and about the city.

Our main course was grilled fish with avocado, rice, and white wine. It was delicious.

Chewing on a piece of mahi mahi and using my tongue for probing the tender meat for fishbones, my gaze wandered out to the sea. A sailing boat crossed the waters below us, its white canvases bulging in the winds like a team of well-fed chefs. The ship reminded me of the expenses.

"So, TCorp is running a yacht?" I pointed my fork at the boat.

"Why do you ask?"

I couldn't resist the urge to goad him. "The expenses that I tagged for Bob... they are now booked into equipment operating expenses. This means they are spent on maintaining TCorp equipment. And since they are for servicing a yacht, that yacht must belong to the company."

"If you say so... you're the expert here. Don't ask me for details, though. It was my assistant who entered the bills into the accounting system... Isn't she beautiful?"

Who, his secretary? I looked up from my plate and saw him gazing at the boat below us. He had to be talking about it. People, especially men, tended to use female pronouns for ships—for whatever reason.

I nodded. "Yes, looks immaculate from here, everything's so white."

He huffed. "White doesn't come naturally for a ship. Boating is mostly cleaning, scrubbing, washing... you wouldn't believe."

I laughed. "Not my cup of tea then."

"But..." He held up a hand. "Once you're out there..." He waved towards the ocean, and his features softened. "Just you, the rest of the crew, the ship, and untamed nature... When the shore and all its constraints are nothing but a distant memory... That's true freedom."

He looked back at me, smiling, any trace of his former frown gone. His eyes had the color of the waters below us.

"True freedom..." I took up his last words, still feeling the rebel stirring within me. "At least if you're the captain, that is."

He tilted his head. "If the captain's a true leader, he'll make his team part of the adventure. He'll make them share his passion and follow him because that's what they want to do."

"Maybe they're just following the money he pays them."

He nodded. "True, you've got a point there. But let me tell you, money can be a burden. You never know if people follow you because you're rich or because you're the one who pays. They'll swear allegiance to you, but they actually do it to your money." He took a slow breath and turned his face away from me, back to the ship below us.

I felt the urge to lighten up his mood. "Look, in that dance... I didn't follow you because you're rich."

His smile reappeared as he looked at me again. "Yes, dancing isn't about money. It's about two people taking their roles in... a piece of art. Our roles may not have been equal, but we were both essential for the result."

"I stepped on your feet."

He shrugged. "That was inconsequential. Didn't you feel those moments we shared... when we became something more than the sum of our parts?"

I nodded, unable to disagree as I remembered how we had moved with the music. "Yeah, I see what you mean. It was... more than what you'd get with two people just hopping to a tune."

He chuckled. The sun gave his skin a golden sheen. The lines of his mouth were serene, yet his bristly eyebrows, the short stubble, and his tan made him look wild, daring, and unfettered.

Something in his face made me remember his sister. What was it that she had wanted from him? Why had she dragged him away from me? I couldn't really ask that.

"Theresa is quite striking, by the way," I said, baiting him.

"Striking..." He stabbed a piece of fish with his fork. "Yes. So are hawks. Dashing creatures they are, perching on their solitary rock. But beware of their talons and their beak."

"She seemed... preoccupied at the party when she came to get you."

He held up a hand. "Please, let's not talk about family. It's such a fine day. The water, the wind, the sun... they are perfect. Look..." He pointed at the ship below us. It performed some maneuver, turning, its sails having lost their healthy girth, flapping in the wind. "That skipper has a handsome ship, but I'm not sure he knows how to handle her. He's trying to turn across the wind, but he has got the sails wrong. When I was younger, I once almost capsized when trying to do that maneuver."

He started on a tale of a maritime adventure he had had some years ago. I had never considered myself to be a boating person, but the story was finely told, like a pirate's tale, and made me laugh.

~~~

After lunch, we drove back, and he asked the bearded chauffeur to stop outside of the north gate.

Thierry got out to open the door for me. "I have a meeting in the city, so I won't come in."

The way he helped me out of the car reminded me of our dancing. I relished the firm touch of his hand, the solidity it conveyed.

"Sure." I smiled at him. "Thanks for taking me out. It's a wonderful place, and the food was delicious."

"So was the company." The white of his teeth matched the color of his shirt. The balmy wind ruffled his hair.

He still held my hand. I decided not to break the contact until he did—he wanted leadership, I was willing to grant it to him—for the time being.

He cocked his head, then dropped my hand, just to grab both my upper arms, pull me close, and kiss me.

It was nothing but a brush of lips, a fleeting touch, a tickle of stubbles, a whiff of peppermint. Then it was over.

I hadn't expected that. Not the peppermint, nor the lips.

He took a step back, still smiling. "You'll hear from me." With that he turned and boarded the car, closing the door behind him.

I couldn't see him through the tinted windows of the rear compartment. But the bullet-headed chauffeur's sunshade-stare was on me. He gave me the tiniest nod, started the engine, and drove away.

I realized that I held my right hand to my lips. Quickly, I dropped it. The taste of peppermint remained.

My last relationship had ended in tears, and I hadn't planned for another one—at least not so soon. And definitely not with Thierry Thorne.

Anyway, what would a guy like that want from me? He could have anyone.