Broken (Manhattan Ruthless Book 1)
Chapter 9

Iceman? Nathan James is hotter than the fiery pits of hell. I was too nervous to appreciate his fineness in the boardroom earlier, but he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy—at least as far as looks go.

There’s a reason almost every woman in this restaurant has cast an admiring glance his way tonight. He’s tall, at least six-two at a guess. Broad too. His shoulders and biceps strain against the taut material of his shirt when he rests his arms on the table. His jawline looks like it was chiseled by the gods themselves—or rather, the goddesses like Aphrodite and Hera, who knew exactly what a fine-ass man should look like. He might be a cold-blooded shark in the courtroom, but sitting opposite me in this fancy restaurant while I try my best to replace out what his buttons are and how to push each and every one, I swear his dark eyes are twinkling with barely suppressed mischief. The man has a deviant side, I can tell.

And while he’s yet to crack a full smile, his lips do occasionally twitch with the hint of one. I guess Tyler was right, Nathan isn’t the worst guy I could have been set up to marry, and I should enjoy this while I can because who knows if we will even make it down the aisle.

I peer out the window, envious of the couples walking hand in hand in the warm summer New York air. Dinner was delicious and delightful. Nathan was charming and surprisingly funny, and I must admit that I’m not quite ready for this night to be over. “It’s such a nice night. Shame we couldn’t have walked a little.”

Nathan presses a button to speak to his driver. “Pull the car over. We’re going to walk the last few blocks.”

“Of course, sir,” comes the reply. “I’ll wait for you outside Miss Edison’s apartment building.”

We walk in silence, and despite the warm night air, I shiver and wrap my arms around my torso.

“Shit, you’re cold?” Nathan shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. The residual heat from his body warms me all over, and I shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you.” I pull his jacket tighter around myself. “Such a gentleman.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You seem shocked by this revelation, Miss Edison.”

A laugh tumbles out of me, and I guess my amusement must melt the ice in his veins because he rewards me with a real, full-on smile that reaches his eyes.

“Oh, wow.” I bump my arm against his as we fall into step beside each other. “You do smile.”

He rolls his eyes. “Only when the occasion calls for it.”

I stop walking and place a hand over my heart. “I’m so honored to be present for such an occasion.”

He comes to a stop beside me, his dark eyes scrutinizing my face, but the hint of a smile remains on his lips. “Why do I feel like you’re constantly testing me?”

We discussed some of the legalities of the contract during dinner, but that discussion didn’t last long. Most of our evening was spent getting to know one another, and it seems he got a pretty good read on me. “Maybe because I am. I mean, if I’m going to marry you, I need to learn some very important things about you. You know, to see if we’re compatible.”

“Oh?” His smile becomes a wicked smirk that turns my insides to Jell-o. “And what things do you need to know?”

I smile coyly and resume walking. “If you have a sense of humor. If you have good taste in movies, which we’ve already established that you do. You know, if you’re capable of making a woman …” Turning my face toward him, I lick my lips, and his eyes darken as he waits for me to finish my sentence. I suppress a grin and add, “Fluffy pancakes when it’s that time of the month and she’s craving sugar.”

A deep, rumbling laugh rolls out of him. “Why do I feel like I’m getting schooled by a pint-sized siren?”

“You are getting schooled, Ice. But I am neither pint-sized nor a siren.”

This time he’s the one who stops, and his fingers circle my wrist, bringing me to a halt right in front of him. He steps closer, looming over me even in my six-inch heels. His eyes rake up and down my body, and the heat of his gaze scalds me. “But you are pint-sized, Spitfire. And you are most definitely a siren.”

Staring into his chocolate-brown eyes, I swallow down the thick knot in my throat. This feels real when it’s not. I can’t recall the last time I had so much fun on a date, let alone a time when I wanted to kiss a man half as much as I want to kiss Nathan James right now.

He leans closer, his breath dusting over my forehead, and a shiver runs the length of my spine. “Are you going to invite me in for a coffee?”

I glance around, surprised. The walk was so enjoyable that I failed to register we had reached my apartment building. I bite down on my bottom lip and shake my head. “I’m not that kind of girl, Mr. James.”

His devilish eyes narrow before he unashamedly rakes them up and down my body. “Oh, we’re back to Mr. James now, are we?”

Tilting my head, I hold his gaze and try to stop my legs from shaking. “Well, there are no cameras here. No need to pretend we’re on a date any longer.”

“Actually …” He takes a half step forward, herding me back until I’m pressed against the wall and his body is only inches from mine. So tantalizingly close that I smell his masculine scent—cologne, whiskey, and fresh air—and it makes the spot between my thighs ache. “I think I saw some paparazzi right over there.” He jerks his head backward, and I peer over his shoulder.

“Nope. You must have been imagining things,” I whisper, my cheeks flushing with heat.

He shrugs. “I think you should kiss me anyway. Just to be sure that this looks like a real date to anyone who might see.”

“The only person watching us is Tedward.”

A growl rumbles in his throat, and he dips his head lower. His mouth is so deliciously close, and his lips dust my earlobe. “Then let’s give him something to watch, Mel.”

I swallow hard as my pulse races beneath my skin. I bet he’s an incredible kisser. It would be so easy to say yes and let him press me against this wall and kiss me senseless. But that would only make things more complicated. I need to keep a clear head around him. This is a business arrangement, a fact he’s made abundantly clear.

I can’t get carried away with myself by thinking it’s anything more just because his body provokes such an intensely sensual physical reaction from mine. That would be reckless. Especially since I’m only ninety-eight percent sure I’ll go through with this wedding. I at least want the option to change my mind if I decide to, and if we have sex, I’m not sure I’ll be able to maintain any measure of objectivity.

I plant my hands on his chest and press a soft kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Mr. James.”

I stifle a chuckle at the frustrated groan that tumbles from his lips. But he steps back and gives me space. He really is a gentleman, huh?

“Thank you for your jacket.” I go to slip my arms out of the silk-lined sleeves, but he encircles my wrist with one strong hand, sending pulses of electricity skittering up my forearm.

“Keep it. I’ll get it back Saturday night.”

I frown. “Saturday night?”

“Our next date.”

I arch an eyebrow. “What if I already have plans?”

His lips twitch again with the promise of a smile that he refuses to deliver this time. “Do you?”

I fold my arms across my chest and scowl. “No. But that’s beside the point.”

He’s already walking toward his car when he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll pick you up at seven, Melanie.”