Attraction by Linn Young Page A

of Hildegard. She’ll just come
barging into the meeting and escort me out into the limousine. And I can’t go with her tomorrow,
Tanner. I can’t. I can’t. I have all these reports that I need to get done. And I have to meet with
your father tomorrow afternoon…And I need to rest. Did you know I haven’t been able to sleep
in two weeks. I don’t think I’ve closed my eyes for longer than five minutes since then. And I
can’t seem to eat anymore.”
“Okay, honey. Everything’s going to be alright.” While crooning soothing words, and
keeping one arm around Roberta’s shaking shoulders, Tanner grabbed her jacket and purse. “I
know what you need, darling. And I’m going to take you there, right now, okay?”
Feeling infinitely comforted by the strong arms and the warm male body, Roberta let
Tanner lead out of her office. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere where it’s safe and warm, and where people love you and aren’t expecting
you to perform colossal feats.”
“You promise,” Roberta begged pitifully.
“I promise.”
Three hours later, Roberta was sitting at the bar in her sister’s bar, digging hungrily into a
plate of seafood linguini in lemon and white wine sauce, while her parents sat next to her,
watching her with concern. Tanner was sitting on the other side of her, enjoying his own plate of
brined pork medallions with chili, apple, and pear chutney, herbed rice pilaf,, and butter and
garlic sautéed baby vegetables.
Riley was behind the bar, pouring wine to her family and Tanner. It was close to nine
o’clock at night, past the dinner hour so there were only a few diners, and a straggle of regular
patrons at around the bar who had dropped in for drinks after work.
Besides a bar and dance club with the impromptu a sex club on the side, Riley’s
establishment was also an excellent restaurant, one that served food that rivaled any five-star
restaurant. This aspect of the bar was not well known to the public for a couple of reasons. The
first was that Riley didn’t bother to advertise on any aspect of her place, and two, the chef wasn’t
even a trained chef, and was barely in his twenties, tattooed all over his body except for his neck
and head, sported a Mohawk that was currently died a shocking blue. He had little interest or
ambition to further his job into a more flamboyant career of a professional chef. But he poured
over cookbook after cookbook and liked to use the small kitchen behind the bar as his own
laboratory. Mostly he cooked by instinct, having a natural affinity for food.
Caroline rubbed Roberta’s shoulders, relieved that the frightening ashen color was gone
from her face. “Are you feeling better, honey?”
Roberta pushed her empty bowl away and patted her full stomach, looking and feeling
well fed, well satisfied. “Oh, much better. That was so good, Riles. Thank you. And, thank you,
for bringing me here. You were so right. It was just what I needed.” This she said to Tanner,
planting a kiss on his cheek.
Tanner smiled. “Well, I had to do something, perform this miracle triage, before we lost
you completely.”
Roberta stretched like an elegant cat in her bar stool. “Well, it worked. And, now, I’m
energized, enervated, revived, and I’m ready to go back and face the battle, again.”
“Why don’t you stay over at the house tonight, honey,” Lawrence offered, still
remembering the pale, frightened look on her face when he first saw her tonight.
“Thanks, Dad, but I have a meeting tomorrow morning, and then I have to meet the
wedding nazi at noon about the tables and chairs for the reception.”
“I think it might be a good idea if you took a few days off, Robbie,” Tanner said, sipping
his wine.
Caroline nodded. “He’s right, Robbie. This whole wedding has obviously taken quite a
toll on you. And, remember, I’ve witnessed at first hand, your wedding Nazi…Uh, planner, that
is. So, I know exactly what you’re going through.”
“You need to tell