“The wine list.” Shane tapped hisfinger on a golden, shimmery folder in the middle of the table. “Our sommelierhas selected the very best bottles to accompany your meal. Or if you’d prefer,our bartender is a master craftsman with cocktails.” He took a step back andbowed his head. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menus. I’ll beback soon.”
Molly leaned forward smiling,“Waterboarding might be more effective.”
I followed Shane, watching as hewalked around the restaurant. “But how to get him to meet me in the bathroom?”
She laughed. “You’re ridiculous. Whydon’t you just ask him all these questions yourself?”
I met her gaze. “And let all of mydetective talents go to waste? It’s like you don’t even know me.”
She pushed the wine list toward me.“At least pick out something good to drink. If I have to endure this amazingdinner while you try to steal all of Killian Quinn’s secrets at least let meget drunk.”
I didn’t argue with her because shehad a point. “What do you feel like? Cocktails or wine?”
“What’s cheaper?” she whispered.
Quickly scanning the menu, Iwhispered back, “Water.”
“Cocktails it is.”
Molly did well for herself, meaningshe could pay all her bills and afford her cute downtown apartment and newishcar payment. But she didn’t have unlimited amounts of cash sitting around. Orenough to justify tonight’s meal.
Neither did I for that matter.
Just one more reason I loved her—shesplurged with me just for the hell of it. Some girls went shopping together.When Molly and I wanted to blow all our savings, we went to five-starrestaurants and gallery openings. When we wanted new clothes, we hit ourfavorite thrift stores and raided each other’s closet.
Shane reappeared to take our drinkorders, two variations of the bartender’s signature Moscow Mules, one withpomegranate and the other with elderflower, and I ordered the pork belly and wagyubeef heart kabobs for an appetizer.
He disappeared again, and withanother look around, I relaxed into my seat, secure in the feeling that Killianhad no idea that I was here. And there was no reason for him to know I was everhere.
Lilouwas as charming as I imagined itwould be. The white brick looked just as quaint on this side as it did theoutside, especially with the dimmed overhead lights and candles set on thetables. Thetablescapeswere elegant, classy, withoutbeing over the top. The linens were pristine. The cutlery was perfectly modern.The atmosphere engaged and whimsical.
I loved it.
It was the kind of restaurant I haddreamed of working in. I imagined what it would look like in the daytime withthe lights fully up. The servers would hustle from table to table, setting upfor supper service. The phone would ring constantly as last minute diners triedand failed to get reservations. The clatter from the kitchen would fill therestaurant like a theme song, the never-ending background music as Killianprepared for the evening and his army of chefs obeyed his every command.
My heartbeat picked up speed,dancing in my chest, responding to the electricity humming in the air. Killianwas probably too arrogant to realize what a gift a kitchen like this was.Entitled and spoiled, he was used to this level of success. But from where Isat on a pile of ashes that used to be dreams, I knew he held a rare andprecious thing. For as many restaurants as there were in this city, he had theprivilege of running one of the nicest. For as many chefs as there were in thisindustry, he had the honor of being one of the best.
And still, I couldn’t find it in meto be jealous of him. Maybe at first I had been. But that had been a genericjealousy, born from the bitter taste of my mistakes. Now that I knew him alittle better, I realized he deserved this kitchen. He’d earned it.
Even if I hated admitting that.
“What are you thinking?” Molly askedquietly when I’d been silent for several minutes.
I shook my head, curling my shouldersforward and playing with my linen napkin. “Nothing, really. I was just takingit all in.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Mollyagreed. “Almost too pretty. From everything you’ve said about Killian, itdoesn’t seem to be his kind of place.”
Shane arrived with our drinks andfirst course. “I guess we’ll find out.”
He went over the dishes, explainingthe crispy pork belly over grits with basil crème and oyster mushrooms. Mymouth started watering as I took in the food, inhaling the savory scents. Hepointed to the beef kabobs, explaining the Mediterranean take on them and thetzatziki inspired sauce.
My gaze narrowed on the skewers withlaser focus. He wouldn’t.
He didn’t.
Before Shane could walk away, I’dalready dragged my finger through the white sauce and tasted it. “Thatbastard!” I hissed.
“What?” Molly asked, leaning forwardwith alarm at the same time Shane panicked. “Is something wrong?”
