Page 50 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Kate’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this story.”

They talked non-stop in the car and all through dinner. After sharing the breakup story with Alexa, he expected her to reciprocate about the man in the Astros cap.

She didn’t.

He changed tactics and questioned her about the locations of the photos instead. But Kate didn’t take the bait. She offered brief descriptions of each trip—mostly food she’d enjoyed and excursions she’d made, but nothing beyond that.

She’s not ready to talk about Mr. Baseball. Leave it be.

"Would you like to see the dessert tray?" the server asked.

Dash smiled at Kate. “Their tableside Bananas Foster is the stuff of legends. Interested?"

"Honestly, I'm stuffed. I'd love some coffee though," she answered.

"Very good. And for you, sir?" the server asked.

"Make it two coffees," Dash confirmed.

The restaurant had emptied around them. Dash leaned back, letting the chair teeter. A perfect evening thus far, and one he hated to see come to an end.

Colt's teasing resurfaced: I won’t hold breakfast.

Between the warm embrace, the hand holding, and trading bites of food, a certain tension grew. A clear case of mutual attraction. And her milky skin in the candlelight? He could’ve stared forever.

With coffees in hand, they fell back into conversation, lingering for another half hour.

"You mentioned your dad's birthday. Big party or a quiet family celebration?" he asked.

“It’s both, actually. A dinner party with just the three of us one night, then a big surprise blowout the following day at a French Quarter style restaurant—one kind of similar to this one.”

"And he has no idea?"

"If he does, he’s not letting on. Won't surprise me if he knows every single detail. The man prides himself on knowing every move we make.”

"I'm sure it'll be great."

"Oh, it will be. My sister deserves all the credit though. She's planning everything. All I have to do is show up."

"A real Martha Stewart type, huh?"

Kate barked a laugh. "Hardly. She can't even boil water. But the girl has exquisite taste. Pop tells everyone I work in bronze and Natalie works in plastic. Give her a credit card and an afternoon and she’ll leave you breathless."

"Shopping as art?"

"Exactly.”

"What does she do?" he asked.

"She's an event planner for Soiree in Chicago. They plan everything from spoiled-rich-kid parties to red carpet events. Her firm is probably running the gala you and Miranda are attending next month."

"Wow. You Powell women are impressive."

"We had to be. Foster Powell swears he's spending every dime of our inheritance. There’s a surprise-within-the-surprise that he doesn’t know about.” Her grin widened. “It’s a soft launch for Natalie’s new business. She’s striking out on her own again.”

His eyebrow rose. “Again?”

“She and a few friends moved to London in their twenties and made an attempt, but there was a lot of in-fighting between them and robbing Peter to pay Paul. They were broke, and running up credit card debt like you can’t believe.”