fast reading. It ought to keep me occupied for hours.”
She stared at him, thoroughly bemused. “You’re really not going to leave, are you?”
“Not without you,” he said, already flipping through the journal.
“I don’t understand you,” she said plaintively.
Mack looked up and met her gaze, looking almost as bemused as she felt. “To tell you the honest truth, Doc, I’m not real sure I understand what’s going on here, either.”
Beth’s pulse did a crazy little lurch. “I suppose I can spare an hour for dinner,” she said ungraciously. “Not one second more.”
Mack dropped the journal on her desk, his eyes filled with something that might have been relief. “Let’s go, then.”
He steered her out of her office, a hand possessively placed in the center of her back. Beth liked the touch more than she cared to admit.
When they turned toward the front of the building, rather than toward the cafeteria, she regarded him curiously. “I thought we were going to the cafeteria.”
“Not tonight,” he said tightly.
“We only have an hour,” she reminded him.
“Believe me, you have made the timetable abundantly clear. It may take a little finesse, but I will have you back at your desk in an hour.”
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of one of the hottest new restaurants in Washington. The gossip columns were filled with lists of society bigshots and power brokers who’d been turned away each evening. Mack had barely stopped the car, however, whenthe valet parkers converged, gave him a ticket and ushered Beth to the curb.
“I’ll need the car back here in front in fifty-five minutes,” Mack told the valet.
The man checked his watch, made a note on the ticket, then said, “No problem, Mr. Carlton. It’ll be here when you’re ready to leave.”
Inside the crowded foyer, Mack spoke to the maître d’ in a hushed tone that Beth couldn’t hear. Two minute later they were seated and practically no time after that two steaming meals were placed in front of them, along with a chilled bottle of sparkling water.
“Since you’re going back to the hospital, I took a chance that you wouldn’t want champagne,” Mack said.
Beth nodded slowly. “The water’s perfect.” She looked at the grilled salmon on her plate, the tiny Red Bliss potatoes with parsley, the perfectly steamed green beans, then lifted her gaze to Mack’s. “So is the meal. How did you manage this in…?” She glanced at her watch. “Less than five minutes.”
Mack shrugged. “No big deal. In a place like this, it’s all about who you know.”
“And you know the maître d’?”
“Among others,” he said.
“The owner?”
“Yes.”
Beth shook her head in amazement. “Given that crush of people out there waiting to get in, I know we took someone else’s reserved table. Are there other diners in here who are still waiting for these particular meals to appear?” she asked, glancing around worriedly.
He grinned. “Don’t feel guilty, sweetheart. They’re probably having wine to tide them over.”
“Probably?” She regarded him incredulously as the reality of the extremes to which he’d gone sank in. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it. “You really did steal someone else’s dinners? And you bribed them with a bottle of wine?”
“Not me,” he claimed with suitable indignation. “I never left your side.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Eat up, Doc,” he encouraged, clearly unwilling to be drawn into the discussion. “That clock of yours is ticking and I, for one, intend to have the crème brulée for dessert. I’d recommend the chocolate soufflé, but we’re a little short on time for that.”
“Unless, of course, some unwary couple already happens to have their order in,” Beth teased, not sure how she felt about a man who could snap his fingers and make this happen, apparently without offending anyone. In some ways, that was the most astonishing
She stared at him, thoroughly bemused. “You’re really not going to leave, are you?”
“Not without you,” he said, already flipping through the journal.
“I don’t understand you,” she said plaintively.
Mack looked up and met her gaze, looking almost as bemused as she felt. “To tell you the honest truth, Doc, I’m not real sure I understand what’s going on here, either.”
Beth’s pulse did a crazy little lurch. “I suppose I can spare an hour for dinner,” she said ungraciously. “Not one second more.”
Mack dropped the journal on her desk, his eyes filled with something that might have been relief. “Let’s go, then.”
He steered her out of her office, a hand possessively placed in the center of her back. Beth liked the touch more than she cared to admit.
When they turned toward the front of the building, rather than toward the cafeteria, she regarded him curiously. “I thought we were going to the cafeteria.”
“Not tonight,” he said tightly.
“We only have an hour,” she reminded him.
“Believe me, you have made the timetable abundantly clear. It may take a little finesse, but I will have you back at your desk in an hour.”
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of one of the hottest new restaurants in Washington. The gossip columns were filled with lists of society bigshots and power brokers who’d been turned away each evening. Mack had barely stopped the car, however, whenthe valet parkers converged, gave him a ticket and ushered Beth to the curb.
“I’ll need the car back here in front in fifty-five minutes,” Mack told the valet.
The man checked his watch, made a note on the ticket, then said, “No problem, Mr. Carlton. It’ll be here when you’re ready to leave.”
Inside the crowded foyer, Mack spoke to the maître d’ in a hushed tone that Beth couldn’t hear. Two minute later they were seated and practically no time after that two steaming meals were placed in front of them, along with a chilled bottle of sparkling water.
“Since you’re going back to the hospital, I took a chance that you wouldn’t want champagne,” Mack said.
Beth nodded slowly. “The water’s perfect.” She looked at the grilled salmon on her plate, the tiny Red Bliss potatoes with parsley, the perfectly steamed green beans, then lifted her gaze to Mack’s. “So is the meal. How did you manage this in…?” She glanced at her watch. “Less than five minutes.”
Mack shrugged. “No big deal. In a place like this, it’s all about who you know.”
“And you know the maître d’?”
“Among others,” he said.
“The owner?”
“Yes.”
Beth shook her head in amazement. “Given that crush of people out there waiting to get in, I know we took someone else’s reserved table. Are there other diners in here who are still waiting for these particular meals to appear?” she asked, glancing around worriedly.
He grinned. “Don’t feel guilty, sweetheart. They’re probably having wine to tide them over.”
“Probably?” She regarded him incredulously as the reality of the extremes to which he’d gone sank in. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it. “You really did steal someone else’s dinners? And you bribed them with a bottle of wine?”
“Not me,” he claimed with suitable indignation. “I never left your side.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Eat up, Doc,” he encouraged, clearly unwilling to be drawn into the discussion. “That clock of yours is ticking and I, for one, intend to have the crème brulée for dessert. I’d recommend the chocolate soufflé, but we’re a little short on time for that.”
“Unless, of course, some unwary couple already happens to have their order in,” Beth teased, not sure how she felt about a man who could snap his fingers and make this happen, apparently without offending anyone. In some ways, that was the most astonishing
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