The Scandal and Carter O'Neill by Molly O'Keefe Page B

boutonniere, a white rose, pinned right onto that impressive chest of his. She’d pat that chest, trail one blood-red nail along his lapel—
    Her stomach growled like a semi roaring to life, ruining the image.
    Embarrassed, she glanced over at Carter to see if he noticed. He stared at her, blank faced. “Was that you?” he asked as they followed the white-jacketed waiter to their table.
    “I’m hungry,” she protested.
    “Clearly,” he muttered, but his eyes twinkled, and Carter with twinkling eyes was a very fine sight.
    “Your table,” the waiter said, and as Zoe slid past him, she whispered, “Is Phillip working tonight?”
    The waiter nodded and Zoe’s baby did a worried backflip. “He is. Would you like me to send him over?”
    “Dear God, no,” she whispered vehemently and then smiled at the man’s slightly stunned expression. “Thanks, though.”
    He bowed and left.
    “So, should we just have them bring the cow?” Carter asked, glancing at the menu.
    And a vat of cream cheese, she thought.
    “Just part of it,” she managed to say with a smile. “You…ah…handled those reporters really well,” she said, searching for conversation now that they were here at the table with a dinner to get through. He’d been on the phone the whole car ride over, talking to someone named Amanda about retractions.
    “You get used to it in politics.”
    “Maybe you should give me some tips,” she said. “You know, so I don’t blow it.”
    “Tell them some truth, but not all of it. Keep them wondering. That sort of thing. But you did great, tonight. Very charming,” he said, his smile brief but beautiful, revealing all that potent glamour he hid away.
    Phillip was going to lose his marbles.
    “I didn’t say anything.”
    “That’s what was so great.”
    Sticking out her tongue seemed like the right reaction, but she wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t the hormones.
    Carter’s pocket buzzed and he dug out a cell phone the size of a deck of cards. He glanced at the screen and winced. “I need to take this,” he said and left the booth without glancing back at her.
    She blinked, taken aback by his rudeness.
    If this relationship were real, the cell phone would be the first thing to go, she thought.
    “Can I get you something to drink while you wait to order?” the waiter asked when he approached their table, like a polite ghost ready to disappear at the shake of her head.
    “I’m ready to order,” she said. “We’ll both have the porterhouse. Bloody. And potatoes.”
    “Baked? Scalloped?”
    “Both,” she said. “And we probably need something green.” She patted the baby, who was clamoring for cream cheese.
    “Our vegetable today is asparagus.”
    “Perfect.”
    The waiter blinked and nodded. “Drinks?”
    “Water is fine,” she said, taking a sip to prove it. “But bring him something fruity. With an umbrella.”
    The sillier the better.
    The waiter smiled and vanished, only to reappear with a bread basket—bless him—and winked before vanishing once more.
    She caught a few interested looks and some very dark glances being thrown her way from other diners, but she just tried to appear Zen as she covered a roll with butter.
    Bola was busy and getting busier. Perhaps Phillip wouldn’t have a chance to take a break and come find her. He didn’t know she was here, after all. Would never in this life expect it.
    “This is a joke, right?”
    No such luck.
    “Hi, Phillip,” she sighed.

    CHAPTER FIVE
    PHILLIP, GORGEOUS in his white jacket and some tasteful guyliner, stood beside her table, using tongs to replenish her still-full bread basket.
    “I’ve been trying to call you all day long,” he said.
    “I’ve been avoiding you.”
    “Obviously. Are you actually dating Deputy Deadbeat Daddy?” he asked, his voice climbing above the muted din that filled the restaurant. “And you didn’t tell me?”
    Zoe glanced behind him for a sign of Carter, but he was nowhere to be