Page 70 of Eternal Obsession

“Really, I insist.”

“Perhaps there’s another restaurant that’s not so fussy about⁠—”

I took Ingrid’s hand and gently pushed her into the changing room. I instructed the store’s female assistant to help find Ingrid the appropriate shoes, giving her instructions to charge the items to my room and provide anything else Ingrid may need.

Ingrid stepped out of the changing room.

Quickly, I closed my mouth.

She was striking in the small black halter dress. She twirled, seemingly unsure whether this was such a good idea. Whereas the clothes Ingrid had previously worn had hidden her curves, she now stood before me the very essence of a woman.

Ingrid suspected I had ulterior motives.

“Ingrid, I’m the consummate gentleman,” I said.

“In other words, you’re quite safe. You’re not planning on having your wicked way with me?”

“Well . . .” I glanced at the shop assistant, surprised by Ingrid’s statement.

Ingrid looked me up and down.

She had studied my tailored suit and dashing looks and wondered if it was too good to be true.

“But you did choose Versace,” the shop girl pointed out. “That’s a female trap right there.”

“Now a man can’t have good taste?” I said, amused by her forwardness.

“Good point,” said Ingrid. “Let’s go eat!”

I requested that Ingrid’s clothes be sent up to my room for safekeeping. We headed back to the restaurant and after one of the staff recognized me, we were provided with the service that would ensure Ingrid a pleasant evening. Such was the benefit of having inherited a title.

Everyone treated you like Royality.

To dull her senses, I ordered champagne. It worked perfectly, quickly lulling her thoughts which raced along at a frightening pace. Even so, at times I had trouble keeping up with both her external and internal dialogue.

“So tell me about your career choice.”

“I’m a policewoman.” She watched my reaction.

I had already sensed as much and did my best to feign innocence, having avoided the law for all the obvious reasons. Although I never considered myself a criminal, being a nightwalker could easily be considered such.

Bugger it. I was going to enjoy myself.

“Do you enjoy your work?” I asked.

“I love it. Couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

“Are you married?” I asked, already aware of the answer.

“I hope not. Here I am having dinner with a dashing . . .” Ingrid blushed.

“Go on. Dashing . . .”

Ingrid beamed. “Charming young man. Are you married?”

I smiled as Ingrid hung on my answer. “I hope not. Here I am having dinner with . . . an exquisite woman.”

She blushed which surprised me for someone with such extraordinary confidence.