approached, then saw his face, and her smile disappeared.
Chapter 6
H e was a drinker. There was no other explanation for it. She knew all the signs: The red eyes that fought to stay open. The unshaven face. They entered the restaurant and he held the door open for her, but didn’t say anything beyond a casual “hello” before speaking to the host. When they were seated he didn’t compliment her dress or talk about the weather. He just sat and stared at the menu. This wasn’t the same man she’d spent nearly an hour talking to on the phone. He’d become a stranger again.
Yvette unfolded her napkin neatly on her lap, remembering all of Rania’s advice. But it didn’t matter. She should have known it was all too good to be true. What sensible man would come up with a scheme like this? What other vices did he have? He had probably been with a woman last night. They’d likely been at some high-society function, had too much to drink, ended up in bed together, and he’d just woken up remembering he had a late lunch date with her.
At least the restaurant made up for her sullen companion. A violist played softly as waiters rushed past carrying dishes that looked more artistic than fulfilling. One plate consisted of three large scallops wrapped in clover; another displayed five jumbo shrimps mounted on scalloped garlic potatoes wrapped in seaweed. She heard the tinkle of fine china and the hushed sounds of intelligent conversation. Or at least she imagined it to be intelligent, she didn’t expect any “late child payment” arguments here. At last she was in a place where she longed to be.
“Would you like me to order for you or suggest something?”
Yvette stared at Nate, surprised. His voice hadn’t changed. She’d expected it to be hoarse or perhaps soft. Didn’t drinkers usually have headaches the next day? Her father had. “Excuse me?”
He continued to stare at the menu. “Would you like me to place your order or suggest something?”
“How can you suggest something when you don’t know what I like to eat?”
“I’m trying to offer a subtle hint for you to tell me.”
“Oh.” She frowned. For someone with a hangover he was incredibly sharp, but she still wouldn’t trust him to order for her. “I’m sure I can find something on my own.”
Yvette glanced back at the menu. She made an effort not to wince at the prices. She selected the cheapest item on the menu, then snapped it closed. “I know what I’m going to have.”
“What?”
“Grilled jumbo shrimp and scallops in a red wine sauce.”
He furrowed his brows, confused, as he read the description. “That’s just an appetizer.”
“I know.”
He glanced up at her with an accusatory look. “I hope you’re not on a diet.”
“I’m not.”
“Do you have a strange aversion to people seeing you eat?”
“No.”
He returned his gaze to the menu. “Then order something sensible.”
“I thought I did.”
“That appetizer is about the size of my pinkie. So unless your stomach is the size of a pea, I suggest you order something else.”
Yvette squirmed uneasily in her chair, finding it annoying that she had to argue with a man who didn’t even look at her. “I wish you wouldn’t make a big deal out of this.”
“Either you order something or I’ll order for you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t afford it,” she said in a loud whisper.
People from two tables away glanced at her. She placed her napkin on the table, ready to leave. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”
He covered her hand with his. It was large and unexpectedly soft and had the surprising effect of forcing her to stay and calming her at the same time. “I’m paying,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear.” He removed his hand and for a moment she was sorry he had.
Yvette sat still. A man with a hangover shouldn’t be able to look so sexy. The quiet voice, the stubble on his chin and his half-open eyes,
Chapter 6
H e was a drinker. There was no other explanation for it. She knew all the signs: The red eyes that fought to stay open. The unshaven face. They entered the restaurant and he held the door open for her, but didn’t say anything beyond a casual “hello” before speaking to the host. When they were seated he didn’t compliment her dress or talk about the weather. He just sat and stared at the menu. This wasn’t the same man she’d spent nearly an hour talking to on the phone. He’d become a stranger again.
Yvette unfolded her napkin neatly on her lap, remembering all of Rania’s advice. But it didn’t matter. She should have known it was all too good to be true. What sensible man would come up with a scheme like this? What other vices did he have? He had probably been with a woman last night. They’d likely been at some high-society function, had too much to drink, ended up in bed together, and he’d just woken up remembering he had a late lunch date with her.
At least the restaurant made up for her sullen companion. A violist played softly as waiters rushed past carrying dishes that looked more artistic than fulfilling. One plate consisted of three large scallops wrapped in clover; another displayed five jumbo shrimps mounted on scalloped garlic potatoes wrapped in seaweed. She heard the tinkle of fine china and the hushed sounds of intelligent conversation. Or at least she imagined it to be intelligent, she didn’t expect any “late child payment” arguments here. At last she was in a place where she longed to be.
“Would you like me to order for you or suggest something?”
Yvette stared at Nate, surprised. His voice hadn’t changed. She’d expected it to be hoarse or perhaps soft. Didn’t drinkers usually have headaches the next day? Her father had. “Excuse me?”
He continued to stare at the menu. “Would you like me to place your order or suggest something?”
“How can you suggest something when you don’t know what I like to eat?”
“I’m trying to offer a subtle hint for you to tell me.”
“Oh.” She frowned. For someone with a hangover he was incredibly sharp, but she still wouldn’t trust him to order for her. “I’m sure I can find something on my own.”
Yvette glanced back at the menu. She made an effort not to wince at the prices. She selected the cheapest item on the menu, then snapped it closed. “I know what I’m going to have.”
“What?”
“Grilled jumbo shrimp and scallops in a red wine sauce.”
He furrowed his brows, confused, as he read the description. “That’s just an appetizer.”
“I know.”
He glanced up at her with an accusatory look. “I hope you’re not on a diet.”
“I’m not.”
“Do you have a strange aversion to people seeing you eat?”
“No.”
He returned his gaze to the menu. “Then order something sensible.”
“I thought I did.”
“That appetizer is about the size of my pinkie. So unless your stomach is the size of a pea, I suggest you order something else.”
Yvette squirmed uneasily in her chair, finding it annoying that she had to argue with a man who didn’t even look at her. “I wish you wouldn’t make a big deal out of this.”
“Either you order something or I’ll order for you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t afford it,” she said in a loud whisper.
People from two tables away glanced at her. She placed her napkin on the table, ready to leave. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”
He covered her hand with his. It was large and unexpectedly soft and had the surprising effect of forcing her to stay and calming her at the same time. “I’m paying,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear.” He removed his hand and for a moment she was sorry he had.
Yvette sat still. A man with a hangover shouldn’t be able to look so sexy. The quiet voice, the stubble on his chin and his half-open eyes,
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