Edward shook his head. “That man can try my patience.”
“He certainly has a way with words. I read the last one about the Argentinian steakhouse in Queens, where he wrote that a cow’s cud would taste better than some of the dishes he ate.”
Edward’s lips twitched. “If I didn’t like him so much, I’d kill him. Or fire him.”
“I’m almost afraid to be in the same room with him.”
“Well, it’ll happen sooner or later, so be prepared.”
The next hour I told and retold the story of how I started my blog, and how it caught the eye of not only regular people who followed my reviews, but the higher-end restaurateurs and the patrons who frequented their establishments. “And thus, here I am.”
The sharp gaze of an older, gray-haired woman with large pearls around her neck raked me up and down before granting me a smile. “I’m Julia Barton. I like what you do. Happy to work with you in the future, if you’d like to collaborate.”
Julia Barton.Holy hell.A doyenne of the food scene. Her reviews were read all over the country and quoted as gospel.
“Sure, yes, I mean of course. I’d love to. Thank you.”
“You take me to your favorite place, and we’ll have lunch next week.”
“F-fabulous. Okay.”
Still reeling, I blinked as she walked away.
“Want a bagel?” A good-looking blond guy held out a plate with a bagel and cream cheese, a few slices of lox, and some fruit.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I took it from him. “Thanks.”
His very white teeth flashed a bright smile. “I’m Matt. I work in graphics, so we’ll be chatting soon about your layout and design.”
“Sounds good, yeah. Whenever you want.”
“How about tonight? We could talk over dinner, maybe?”
His stare ate me up, and I had to catch my breath.Damn.He was really,reallyattractive, but…
“Sorry. I’m busy tonight.”
“Tomorrow?” He moved a step closer. “I’d really like to get to know you better.”
“I can’t. I’m seeing someone.”
“And you’re exclusive?” His golden brow quirked.
I had no clue what we were, but I did know one thing. Frisco despised cheating, and I wasn’t risking our tentative reconciliation on a guy I didn’t know. The other night at my mom’s, we’d dug a bit under the surface of that chain-mail armor he lived inside, and I knew there was so much more to discover about who the real Frisco Evans was.
“We are.”
“Ahh, damn. Well, we still have to talk about your graphics, so we can meet in half an hour or so if you want.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Salvatore,” Edward called me over to where he was having a conversation with a man I hadn’t seen before.
“See you later,” I said to Matt and joined Edward. “Hi.” I nodded to the man, who studied me with hard, steel-gray eyes. He had a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair and a heavy tan that suggested vacations in the Mediterranean. Like Edward, his suit was sleek and obviously expensive. I needed to up my game, and I wondered if Frisco would go shopping with me.
“This is the editor in chief ofUltimate Publications, Thomas Webster. He wanted to stop by and see the young newcomer who’s ready to take over.”
“When you see him, let me know,” I said.
