I fought the urge to roll my eyes and kept my gaze fixed to hers.I’ve known men who’d risked a lot more to get off.
“Admittedly, it’s a long shot,” said Charlotte.“But it’s not fair for him to lose what he’s worked so hard for if he didn’t do it.”
“You like him,” said Meredith, at the same time Kindra said, “You believe him.”
“I’m not sure,” said Charlotte, looking miserable.“And what’s worse, I can’t trust that one thing isn’t feeding the other.”
She wouldn’t be the first woman to make a stupid choice about a man for what seemed like a rational reason, I thought.I let my eyes drift over my friend’s shoulder, remembering a list of stupid choices I’ve made.My gaze landed on Mr.Tall, Dark, and Dangerous, watching me from a group of men gathered near the bar.
Perfect case in point.
I looked away, feeling my face flush, wondering why simply meeting his eyes would make me blush.I was long past the age when a man’s attention made me self-conscious.
“Can you get him out of the prenup?”I asked, dragging my attention back to the conversation in front of me.
“I can try, but it looks ironclad, even for me,” said Charlotte, a fierce glint in her eyes.“I’d feel better if I had something on her or an alibi from him.Or even knew exactly what she had on him.I’ll figure something out.”
She sounded determined, which was something.I had a feeling a determined Charlotte could move mountains.
“Enough of legal stuff,” she said, her clear blue gaze meeting mine, wordlessly willing me to relax.“What’s going on with the rest of you?”
I laughed with the others as Meredith told a story about a bride who wanted a penguin wedding cake.When the waiter brought our drinks, I glanced at the doorway, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed to find Mr.Tall, Dark, and Dangerous gone.
––––––––
“TOOK YOU LONG enough.”Jared slapped me on the back and put a rocks glass of Macallan in my hand.There was an advantage to having friends who knew me so well.
“I got sidetracked on the way in.”I took a swallow of the smoky amber liquid, remembering how fucking good the petite detour with the big eyes and tight curves felt in my arms.
I glanced in the direction she’d gone when we parted and found her sitting at a table with a group of women.Her face turned in my direction as if she’d felt my gaze, and I sucked in a breath at the sucker punch to my gut when her eyes met mine.If the speed with which she glanced away was any indication, she’d felt it too.
“Nice,” said Ben, stretching his neck to follow the direction of my gaze.“It’s about time you got interested in someone.Which one was she?”
“The redhead is stunning,” said Jared.“Hell, they all are.Want to move the party over there?”
Actually, friends might be overrated,I thought, uncertain why the idea of reducing the encounter to a pickup opportunity bothered me.
“Matt’s waiting for us in the kitchen.He’s going to be pissed if we ruin his oysters.”The excuse sounded lame, but it’s all I had.
“You sure, man?It’s been a long time since Julie,” said Ben, his voice taking on a serious note that wouldn’t get us anywhere I wanted to be.
“Positive.Let’s go before Chef has an aneurysm.”I tossed back the last of my Scotch and turned toward the door to the kitchen, not waiting to see if the others followed me.The sooner I got the beautiful woman who managed to bring all my protective instincts roaring to life out of my sight, the sooner I’d be able to get her out of my mind.
Matt was cursing up a blue streak behind the line.Not at his staff.I’d known the temperamental chef long enough to know he was a ball buster, but he didn’t fit theterrifying the line cooksstereotype, especially since so many of them were older than him.He made it a point to hire people with roots in Creole cooking and then help refine what they already knew.If he’d had to swear at them, they’d have been gone already.
From the sound of it, some poor patron had the nerve to order the trout amandine without the almonds and with the meunière sauce on the side.Matt was worse than Frank Lloyd Wright in his obsession to details.Wright built in furniture so his clients wouldn’t mess up his designs by moving in their own things.Matt gave people his food the way they were supposed to eat it.
“It’s not trout amandine without the almonds.May as well make it without the fucking fish.Cochons.”
By the expression on their faces, a couple of the cooks might have sympathy for the patron with the possible nut allergy, but they weren’t about to say it out loud.
“Pesky customers getting in the way of your genius again?”I asked, moving close enough to the line so Matt could see me but not close enough to get in the way of the white-jacketed servers hurrying to pick up finished plates.
If the restaurant’s dining room and bar with its white tablecloth tables and bottle-lined walls were an homage to Tennessee Williams’s New Orleans, the kitchen belonged to Degas.It was copper vent hoods and scarred wooden counters and the heady aroma of charbroiled meat and peppers—fire to the cool civility of the front of the house scene.
“About fucking time,” said Matt, glancing up from the fish he was preparing.“Go sit down.”He motioned with his head to the chef’s table tucked in one corner of the kitchen.He occasionally did VIP dinners for patrons who wanted a more intimate experience, but not as often as he could have.Mainly, I guessed, because he couldn’t hold his tongue.
“The hospitality is inspirational, man,” said Jared.
