Damn. Mallory smiled brightly. ‘Alright.’ She focused on Kit and told her everything she’d learned about silphium. There was a lot for her to take in.
Chapter
Three
It wasn’t long before they’d polished off the second bottle of wine. At some point the waiter reappeared with a dessert menu, his snooty expression replaced with a fawning, solicitous air. Mallory guessed that James had finally had a word with him. It had been inevitable.
She managed a smile in his direction and declined the menu even though her stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of Vallese’s delectable chocolate torte. She wasn’t here on a jolly, though she was certain MacTire noticed the audible manifestation of her hunger because he wordlessly handed her the remainder of the bread to finish off.
She felt a trace of guilt at her earlier irritation. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad. Kit certainly seemed to like him well enough, and Mallory knew enough about the cat lady to trust her instincts.
She was amused when Kit had to drag a vow out of MacTire not to repeat any of what he’d learned about silphium. When the same request was put to her, Mallory capitulated in an instant. ‘You have my word, Kit – of course you do.’ She grinned. ‘For one thing I’m a squib, so silphium’s magical properties are no use to me. And I don’t need money. It doesn’t interest me.’
Unsurprisingly, Alexander MacTire didn’t believe her. ‘Really.’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Mallory didn’t miss a beat. She offered him a sunny smile in response. ‘Really.’
Kit interrupted before their temporary truce was broken and put a polite end to proceedings. ‘Thank you, both of you. Please allow me to pay for dinner.’
‘Not a chance,’ MacTire growled. ‘I invited you here.’
‘Then let me pay for Mallory’s share of the wine.’
‘No.’
Before Mallory could interject, the waiter returned to their side. With his hands neatly folded in front of him and his head bowed, he cleared his throat. ‘Your evening has already been taken care of.’
Mallory bit her lip.Oh. She would have preferred to avoid this scenario.
‘What do you mean?’ MacTire asked.
‘Compliments of Mr Vallese.’ The waiter bowed to Mallory. ‘He hopes you enjoyed your evening, Ms Nash, and reminds you that you are always welcome to dine here with any of your friends.’ With that, he backed away, a faint red flush staining his cheeks. He’d screwed up earlier; now he knew she was a valued friend of his boss, he was keen to avoid her gaze.
‘Wait.’ MacTire was clearly confused. ‘What?’
Mallory had to admit that his reaction was entertaining. Maybe now he’d believe that she was far more capable than she appeared. Victor Vallese, the head chef and restaurant owner, had been a client of hers on several occasions and he’d always been delighted at the outcomes she’d achieved for him.
Kit was clearly enjoying the werewolf alpha’s surprise almost as much as Mallory. She pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘I need to get home. I promised my cats that I’d be back before midnight.’
‘Thank you for your company.’ MacTire got to his feet. ‘It’s been a wonderful evening.’
‘Indeed.’ She kissed him on the cheek in a perfunctory manner. ‘Let’s never do it again.’
‘Deal,’ he said.
Mallory also stood up and extended her hand. ‘If you need anything else, Kit, you know where I am. And if you don’t hear from me in the next eleven months, you are free of any further obligations.’
‘Oh, I’m certain I’ll hear from you,’ Kit said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll fulfil whatever favour you require whenever you require it.’
Mallory had no doubt that she would because she’d signed a blood contract to that effect and that was as binding a promise as could be. They shook hands then Kit raised a hand in farewell and left the restaurant.
Mallory turned to MacTire. ‘It was nice to meet you,’ she said politely. It was doubtful their paths would cross again. That was probably a good thing.
‘You’re leaving?’ he asked.
Hell, yes. ‘The kitchen is closing,’ she pointed out. ‘And I have a busy day tomorrow.’
‘So do I.’ He gestured to the now-empty bread basket. ‘We both know that you need more sustenance in your belly than focaccia. Your tummy has been growling at me for the last hour.’
