I sucked in my bottom lip anddecided that yes, yes it was. But then I remembered I needed to talk to himabout the party. The party he was hosting at his restaurant. So I reluctantly facedmy fears and followed him inside the small, but organized office space.
He turned around and propped hishands on his hips. He looked so elegant in his suit, even with the jacketdiscarded over the back of his chair and his tie loosened around his neck. Ihad the strangest urge to run my thumb over his cheekbone.
I shivered, shaking off that oddlysympathetic instinct.
Needing to remind myself of who thisman was, I spoke before he could. “I’m sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again.”
He stared at me. “I hope youunderstand that I can’t have non-employees hanging out in my kitchen duringbusiness hours. The health inspector would love to catch you in there just toshut me down.”
Guilt mingled with shame and myheart pinched with regret. I held my hands up. “I get it. Really.”
Looking out the door, then back atme, he let out a slow breath. “So are you ready for Friday? Do you needanything else from me?”
It had been Wyatt’s idea to host theparty atLilouand he’d been the one to approach Ezraabout it. I had kicked myself every day for letting him talk me into it. Sure,it would be extra special to Vera and Killian, but what about me? All I got outof it was an awkward conversation with this guy, and a whole helping of guiltfor how much more Wyatt and Ezra were contributing.
I mean, it was my party, and so far,I’d sent out invitations and found a cute new dress on clearance.
“I think we’re ready. I’ll be hereFriday afternoon to set up decorations as long as that works for you?” Henodded. “Are you sure it’s not a problem to closeLiloufor an entire night? I feel awful.”
He expression relaxed, softened.“I’m happy to help.”
I wanted to argue with him, but Iheld my tongue. He had been the one to offer the date. He’d picked Fridaynight, not me.
Steeling my courage, I asked onemore favor of him. “There is just one more thing,” I started. His dark eyesnarrowed and his lips thinned. “I’m not exactly sure how to get them here. I’mwondering if you would make up an excuse and invite them over? Or call themwith some big, fake emergency that you can’t handle without them?”
Ezra Baptiste was the verydefinition of tall, dark and handsome. His hair was always trimmed neatly andcombed in a way that screamed important. His jaw was always cleanly shaven, andhis clothes always perfectly tailored and expertly pressed. He was basicallythe exact opposite of his best friend Killian.
But right now he looked utterlybewildered, erasing all of that sophisticated aloofness he worked so hard topull off. “You want me to call them?”
“Or text,” I offered. “Whatever wayworks best for you. Just make up a foolproof reason for them to hurry overhere.”
“You should probably do it,” heargued. “That seems like something you’d be good at.”
What did he mean by that? That I wasgood at lying? “What excuse could I possibly have for them to meet me atLilou?”
His jaw ticked. “I don’t like lyingto my friends.”
I cleared my throat, hating the wayhe made me feel guilty for trying to surprise our friends with an awesome party.I was doing a good thing, I reminded myself. It wasn’t even really lying. “Thendon’t lie. Tell them you have a surprise for them. It will be the truth.”
“That will ruin the night.”
I placed my hands on my hips,mimicking his stand-offish pose. “Forget I asked. I’ll figure it out.”
“Now you’re mad,” he accused.
“I’m not mad.” I was totally pissed.“There’s nothing to be mad about.” Except that he was being unnecessarilydifficult when all I wanted him to do was shoot Killian a text that said,hey come over here for a minute. “Ithought it would make more sense coming from you, but it’s not a big deal.”
He stared at me for a long momentbefore he said, “Do you have a coat?”
“What?”
“A coat,” he repeated. “Did youleave it in the kitchen?”
“Er, no.”Trying to recover from conversational whiplash, I explained, “I didn’t wearone. I came straight from work.” I also hated coats. Sure, it was frigidoutside and my car would be an icebox by the time I left, but coats always gotin my way. I had a long, cashmere duster on over my rosy pink blouse and graytrousers, and that was enough for me. Plus, my office was hot as Hades in thewinter and even if I wore a sweater to work, I usually shed it beforelunchtime.
Ezra scowled at me but didn’t pressthe coat issue.
“So we’re good for Friday?” I asked,hoping to wrap this up. I had an exciting night of eating supper alone andwashing my hair ahead of me that I was anxious to start.
