“Chef Hugo Gustafsson is a legend here in Glasgow,” Kai explains, his hand firmly on my leg, long fingers sliding between my thighs, chuckling when I tighten them. “He gets bored with havin’ the same restaurant. So, every six months or so, he pops up in a new location with a fresh menu. Ya never know what he’s going to serve ya, but it’s always fecking delicious.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine what the waiting list must be for an experience like that.” He gives me a sly smile. “Oh. But for a mightyMacTavish,waiting lists mean nothing, huh?”
“He might be using one of our warehouses by the River Clyde for this round,” Kai allows.
“Ah, I see. Give up an entire warehouse for six months so that you can have gourmet meals on demand? That’s a long way to go, even for a dream date like this.”
“Well, the rest of the family likes chasin’ Chef Hugo around to his latest spot, too,” he says. “Makes it easier when he’s in one of ours.”
When we pull into the parking lot, the enormous brick building is blazing with lights. “How old is this place?” I ask.
“It was built in the early 1900s,” Kai says.
“Ah, that’s why it still has those huge, beautiful old windows and all that iron detailing.”
“Before we go in, I have something for ya.” He hands me a white box.
It’s an iPhone. The newest one, the Ultra Deluxe Pro, something or another. The back is covered with five different camera lenses. “No way. This is insane! You don’t have to get me a phone, Kai. Mine works just fine.”
“It does,” he allows, “but this phone is ranked best in the industry for taking photos and video. Ya could shoot a major motion picture on this thing. All your numbers are programmed into it, along with the important MacTavish contacts. Your photos have all been transferred over, too. Though ya really should upload those to your iCloud account. We should open one for ya with double encryption, just to be safe.”
“You…” I will not ruin this evening with an uncontrollable bout of noisy weeping. “This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me, I’m overwhelmed and - oh, shit - you saving my life is the most amazing thing but this phone is a close second.” I should have the moral strength to refuse this extremely expensive and unnecessary bauble, but… thatcamera.
“Are ya ready to go in, or do ya want to fondle that phone like a baby kitten a wee bit longer?” His greener than green eyes aretwinkling, and it touches me to see that he’s happy because… he mademehappy.
“We can go in,” I say, tenderly tucking the phone into my purse.
He takes my hand, pulling me along gently as I gawk at the masterpiece they’ve created. All the heavy iron girders and exposed ductwork are intact, with no-nonsense concrete floors and gorgeous details like the hanging Edison lightbulbs and an enormous walnut bar with a bottle selection that soars up to the second floor. They have a rolling ladder like I’ve seen in old libraries to reach the more expensive brands.
The host has gorgeous amber eyes and very dark skin, and he hurries to greet us. “Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish, we’re so deeply honored you could join us tonight!” He even sketches out a deep bow.
“Luna, this is Mario, Chef Hugo’s husband and a major pain in the arse,” Kai says dryly. Mario gives him a wink and leads us to a table with the best view of the river. The table is also half-concealed by a concrete divider which is, I assume, why we’ve been seated here. Ian and Angus take the table next to us, and Kai’s other six guards split up, two to a table, forming a human wall between us and the rest of the restaurant.
“I can’t help but notice that we seem to be bristling with bodyguards tonight,” I say, trying to hide my smile at his deadly serious expression.
“The threat hasn’t changed,” he says, snapping his linen napkin open and onto his lap.
He looks so handsome tonight. Not that he doesn’t always, but the blue sports jacket and crisp white dress shirt look inordinately sexy on him. He’s still got a tan from running around half-naked on that godforsaken island all those weeksago, and the shirt’s open enough that I can see a corner of the tattoo of his family’s crest peeking out.
I take a gulp of my water, which I’d learned upon arriving in London is not an automatic offering in European restaurants, though Kai always orders one for me with ice whenever we go out. This reminds me of the time he poured that glass of water for me after nearly railing me into oblivion, and I can’t stop the blush heating up my face.
Damn it, of course he notices. “What’s got ya blushing, little fox?” He’s running a thick finger over his lower lip. The move is so sexy that my thighs tighten.
“Uh… just wondering what Chef Hugo’s got planned for us tonight?” I try to come off as breezy and unconcerned, but it sounds more like a horny little croak.
Thank god, the waiter arrives with the first course, and I hastily stuff a perfect little bite of west coast brown crab and Thai green curry in my mouth. Anything I can say right now is bound to get me into trouble.
By the time we finish off the Isle of Skye langoustine, white asparagus with black truffles, Cullen skink - which is delicious though the name would not lead you to believe that - and the rhubarb and custard, I’m seconds away from a food coma that is bound to embarrass me.
“Do you think we could walk for a bit?” I ask. “This is a really pretty stretch of the river.”
Kai helps me out of my chair, leaving a thick pile of pound notes on the table. We leave the warehouse with our entourage of armed men and another extravagant bow from Mario.
The areaislovely; most of the warehouses have been turned into condos and shops, with an old-fashioned cobblestone road andlots of trees and flowers in bloom. We’re walking hand in hand and this feels right. Like a real date with no other objective at hand.
“Thank you,” I sigh, “this is really nice.”
“You’re welcome.” Kai kisses the top of my head. “Even a stingy Scot would shell out for a meal like that.” He squeezes my hand lightly. “Though the company is far more valuable.”
