Time
On the ride to the restaurant, Kate rehearsed what to say to Mark over and over again in her head. There was no right or wrong way to tell him about Jessica, so in the end she came to the conclusion she would simply blurt it out if necessary. Turning her gaze toward the window, Kate watched the streets lined with late-night shoppers and courting couples. Life goes on , she thought wryly. As will mine and Jess’s.
The cab dropped her outside the steps to the Shriver restaurant, and Kate looked up at its cream-stone façade and felt a jolt of renewed nerves. But knowing Mark could quite easily be seated by a window watching her with that infuriating glint in his eyes, she quickly shoved her nerves away and tilted her chin. She would be cool personified. Yes. That’s just what she would be.
Swallowing hard, Kate pasted her most nonchalant expression on her face and gracefully climbed the steps into the restaurant. She quickly scanned her surroundings. The place screamed of money and status. Everything from the crystal chandeliers to the bone china tableware was in perfect, and very expensive, order. It wasn’t until the maitre d’ politely cleared his throat Kate realized she stood directly in front of him.
She turned her smile up a notch. “Good evening, I’m here to meet Mark Johnston.”
His English butler demeanor immediately softened with almost laughable speed. “Ah, yes, good evening. May I bid you a warm welcome to The Shriver Restaurant, madam,” he said, stepping out from behind his rosewood podium. “Please come this way.”
“Thank you.”
As she followed, Kate tried not to stare at the beautiful interior. Decorated in tones of cream and off-white blended together to create an ambience of subtle 1940’s glamour and sophistication, it was beautiful. As her gaze wandered, it fell on two or three celebrity faces and her already stretched nerves, tightened. These were A-list celebrities eating in a restaurant where they knew they wouldn’t be bothered by the public or paparazzi. A place the rich and famous came for intimacy and ensured privacy. A celebrity like Mark Johnston.
She must be crazy agreeing to meet him like this. He was hardly the man she and James knew five years ago. He was known by everyone--admired by everyone. What the hell was she doing?
“Your table, madam.”
Kate blinked at the sound of the maitre’d’s voice and turned. Mark was on his feet, his eyes dancing with amusement, his full mouth curved into a delighted, happy smile. Kate snapped her gaze from his and smiled widely at the maitre’d as he pulled out her seat and gestured for her to sit down. She sat gratefully.
“Thank you.”
He returned her smile with a curt nod. “Can I get you a drink? A cocktail maybe?”
Kate glanced at the table. “I’ll have a glass of whatever Mark…I mean, Mr. Johnston is drinking, please.”
“Bring the bottle, if you will, please, Peter,” Mark said.
“Of course, sir.”
Rachel Brimble
31
And then they were alone.
“You came.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “Didn’t you think I would?”
“No.”
“Oh.” His gaze lingered over every inch of her face, and Kate’s cheeks warmed under the soft study in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”
He started as though remembering where he was. “You look beautiful.”
Her heart lurched in her chest as Kate forced herself to keep her eyes on the clear hazel of his. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He smiled and reached for the menu. Once he was sufficiently engrossed, Kate picked up her own menu and opened it like a shield. But she didn’t read the offerings, instead she used the advantage to surreptitiously check him out. Peering over the top of the leather-bound pages, her gaze wandered over the charcoal gray suit, the open neck collar of his snow-white shirt and the casual style of his newly washed hair. He looked up and she quickly looked at the menu.
“Do you know what you
On the ride to the restaurant, Kate rehearsed what to say to Mark over and over again in her head. There was no right or wrong way to tell him about Jessica, so in the end she came to the conclusion she would simply blurt it out if necessary. Turning her gaze toward the window, Kate watched the streets lined with late-night shoppers and courting couples. Life goes on , she thought wryly. As will mine and Jess’s.
The cab dropped her outside the steps to the Shriver restaurant, and Kate looked up at its cream-stone façade and felt a jolt of renewed nerves. But knowing Mark could quite easily be seated by a window watching her with that infuriating glint in his eyes, she quickly shoved her nerves away and tilted her chin. She would be cool personified. Yes. That’s just what she would be.
Swallowing hard, Kate pasted her most nonchalant expression on her face and gracefully climbed the steps into the restaurant. She quickly scanned her surroundings. The place screamed of money and status. Everything from the crystal chandeliers to the bone china tableware was in perfect, and very expensive, order. It wasn’t until the maitre d’ politely cleared his throat Kate realized she stood directly in front of him.
She turned her smile up a notch. “Good evening, I’m here to meet Mark Johnston.”
His English butler demeanor immediately softened with almost laughable speed. “Ah, yes, good evening. May I bid you a warm welcome to The Shriver Restaurant, madam,” he said, stepping out from behind his rosewood podium. “Please come this way.”
“Thank you.”
As she followed, Kate tried not to stare at the beautiful interior. Decorated in tones of cream and off-white blended together to create an ambience of subtle 1940’s glamour and sophistication, it was beautiful. As her gaze wandered, it fell on two or three celebrity faces and her already stretched nerves, tightened. These were A-list celebrities eating in a restaurant where they knew they wouldn’t be bothered by the public or paparazzi. A place the rich and famous came for intimacy and ensured privacy. A celebrity like Mark Johnston.
She must be crazy agreeing to meet him like this. He was hardly the man she and James knew five years ago. He was known by everyone--admired by everyone. What the hell was she doing?
“Your table, madam.”
Kate blinked at the sound of the maitre’d’s voice and turned. Mark was on his feet, his eyes dancing with amusement, his full mouth curved into a delighted, happy smile. Kate snapped her gaze from his and smiled widely at the maitre’d as he pulled out her seat and gestured for her to sit down. She sat gratefully.
“Thank you.”
He returned her smile with a curt nod. “Can I get you a drink? A cocktail maybe?”
Kate glanced at the table. “I’ll have a glass of whatever Mark…I mean, Mr. Johnston is drinking, please.”
“Bring the bottle, if you will, please, Peter,” Mark said.
“Of course, sir.”
Rachel Brimble
31
And then they were alone.
“You came.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “Didn’t you think I would?”
“No.”
“Oh.” His gaze lingered over every inch of her face, and Kate’s cheeks warmed under the soft study in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”
He started as though remembering where he was. “You look beautiful.”
Her heart lurched in her chest as Kate forced herself to keep her eyes on the clear hazel of his. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He smiled and reached for the menu. Once he was sufficiently engrossed, Kate picked up her own menu and opened it like a shield. But she didn’t read the offerings, instead she used the advantage to surreptitiously check him out. Peering over the top of the leather-bound pages, her gaze wandered over the charcoal gray suit, the open neck collar of his snow-white shirt and the casual style of his newly washed hair. He looked up and she quickly looked at the menu.
“Do you know what you
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