She chokes out a laugh. “It’s going to look like we murdered somebody.”
“Exactly. But nobody’s going to know about that tiny thing.”
“No.” She giggles. “That’s ridiculous.”
I put both hands on Aspen’s shoulders and start herding her out. “Okay, then. Let’s go get fed, and let our NDAed housekeeping deal with the sheets.”
* * *
The service at Jean-Georges is as expected: attentive and polished. The bright interior is perfect for breakfast, and we’re dressed just right for the venue. This isn’t just a place you go to fill your belly; you also go to beseen. Make a statement without uttering a word.
I recognize a few people. A couple of overprocessed and silicone-enhanced girls start to get up as if they want to come over to our table to talk, but I shake my head subtly, tilting my chin at Aspen. They just want to discuss what Dad’s up to, and I’d rather not ruin a perfectly fine morning with one of my least favorite subjects.
“Oh my God,” Aspen whispers. “Is that…Brad Pitt?”
“Looks like it.”
“Wait. There are other actors here.”
“Uh-huh. Models, too.”
Her eyes are wide as she looks around. “I heard that celebrities eat here, but I didn’t think I’d actuallyseeany, you know?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve lived in L.A. all my life and never run into one.”
“You want a couple autographs?” I won’t interrupt them now, but I can probably arrange for something.
“No,” she says quickly. “I don’t want to disturb their breakfast. That’d be rude.”
I find myself smiling at her consideration. When Aspen orders pancakes, I ask, “Do you like berries?”
She nods.
“Two bowls of fresh berries, whipped cream and powdered sugar on the side. And eggs benedict with smoked salmon for me.”
The server also brings out coffee and other juices we asked for. Aspen looks around and whispers, “Wow. It’s so gorgeous. I’ve driven past it a few times, but…”
“But now you’re here.”
Just then the light hits her, so it looks like she’s glowing. I pull out my phone and take a snapshot.
“Wait, I didn’t even pose!” she says.
“So?” I look at the screen. Aspen has a half-smile and her eyes are filled with dreamy wonder. I’m happy I got her exactly like this. Now I finally understand why Mom said photography is a compulsion she can’t ignore. “You look perfect.”
Aspen puts a hand on my forearm. “Lemme see.”
“Here.” I angle the phone toward her.
“Wow. Did you take photography lessons from your mom?”
I shudder. “No. She’d make a terrible teacher.” Mom hates it when people don’t understand her instantly. If she has to repeat herself, that makes you an idiot unworthy of her time and attention. The only exception, for some reason, is Noah. But he can be quite charming, and he knows exactly what to say to unruffle her feathers and flatter her ego.
Our food gets delivered to our table. The eggs benedict taste as great as I remember. Aspen bites into her pancakes, and her eyes go half-closed. “Mm.Sogood.”
The soft moan revs up my libido, and my dick is hard again. I shift subtly, thankful we’re seated at a table. Aspen’s entirely too pretty and scrumptious.
