Wait.
I know this woman. “Olivia? You’re Olivia, right? From Griff’s class?”
Her smile is so pained, I want to take a Tylenol for her. “Hi, Bea. Welcome to JC Fig. We’re so glad to have you for our grand opening.”
Simon’s smile, on the other hand, seems completely genuine. “You know each other. Brilliant. Not to bethat celebrity, but could we possibly be seated quickly? Before we cause a scene in your lobby? I’m eager to try the meatloaf to see how it compares to my favorite from the city. Your menu looks positively delicious.”
Olivia grimaces.
I nearly grimace for her.
“Chef made a fixed tasting menu for tonight. No meatloaf.”
“A tasting menu! Brilliant. Clearly, I must return another night for the meatloaf.” He winks at her. “Provided the tasting menu is as delicious as I hope it will be.”
She blinks at him.
Then looks at me and grimaces again.
Then looks back at him. “You can’t bring in your own alcohol.”
There goes his smile, doing its smile thing. “Can’t I? Just this once?”
If she winces any harder, she’s gonna get a charley horse in her cheek or eyebrow. “It’s against the rules.”
“I noticed you don’t have Dom Pérignon listed on your online menu, and I prefer it to any other bubbly.”
She looks behind her while I manage to not let my face show that he’s lying.
Either to her, or to me in the car.
Then she peers behind us, where Tank is looming so close that I can almost feel him breathing.
And then she closes her eyes and takes the largest breath I’ve ever seen anyone take.
When she opens her eyes again, I lean into the stand. “I feel like your boss would really want celebrities to be happy,” I murmur for her ears only.
“What’s that now?” Simon asks.
“Fine.Fine.” Olivia winces once more, then grabs two leather folios and a drink list and leads us into the converted house.
We walk past the old sitting room on the right, which has had its wallpaper replaced with plain blue paint, and the former library on the left, which has had its bookcases removed, probably to make room to squeeze in two or three extra tables.
The old crystal chandeliers have been replaced with iron fixtures, and the walls in both rooms are adorned with mirrors, which fits Jake.
He knows he’s handsome, and he loves to bask in it.
All of the tables are draped with white cloth and have candles dancing in the centerpieces, which makes me shiver.
We don’t do candles at home.
Especially exposed candles.
Simon glances at me and lifts his brows, like he noticed me shivering.
He’s stupidly handsome tonight. Hair perfectly in place, five-o’clock shadow hinting at scruff to come soon, and he’s already rolled his sleeves up his forearms. His suit pants fit his ass better than baseball pants fit my favorite players, and there’s mischief brewing in his blue eyes, drawing me in like a bug to a zapper.
“Long story,” I murmur.
