Once resettled at the library table, I was again quickly caught up in case files, forgetting everything else until the smell of stroganoff filled the house. Good choice, Keir. When the front door opened and closed, I assumed it was Olivia leaving, but forgot that also meant that Keir would be arriving within minutes.
“Something smells good.” I was startled by Keir’s voice and jumped a little. He chuckled. “You forgot I was coming? Should I be offended?”
“I did not forget you were coming. How could I? It’s just… these files.”
His gaze slid to the stacks on the table. “Compelling?”
“Good word for it.”
“Can you break away for dinner?”
“Ha. Ha.”
I left the file I was reading open and pushed my chair back. When I stood up, he looked down at my bare feet.
“You even have pretty feet.”
Well, there was something I didn’t hear every day. Or ever. I wanted to avoid the cliché of looking down and really tried, but eventually I succumbed to the impulse to see what he was seeing.
“How about you?” I teased. “Do you have pretty feet?”
Without hesitation or sitting down, he pulled off one boot then the other. One sock then the other.
After examining his feet, I said. “Do not ever compliment me about a physical feature because then I’m going to compare myself to you and you’re always going to win. Aren’t you?”
He laughed silently and reached for me, but I ducked out of the way and headed for the kitchen.
“Nuh-uh. Stroganoff isn’t good cold.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said, following close behind.
I turned into the kitchen expecting to see pots, pans, and a basic table setting. But what I found was the most romantic setting imaginable. Olivia had gone all out making good use of the china, crystal, and heavy silver courtesy of Maeve. While I don’t have a dealer’s expertise, I found the choices to be exquisite.
An old-looking silver candelabra sat off to the side with seven while tapers rising in an arc. Perhaps the biggest surprise was that Olivia had gone to the florist and picked up a table arrangement from Lily; scarlet red roses packed tightly amid wispy trailing tree fern. It couldn’t have possibly been more romantic, which meant two things.
First, Olivia presumed my dinner guest was coming for a tryst.
Second, Lily’s involvement meant that everyone in Hallow Hill would know about it by the time we sat down to eat.
Ah well, I thought. Might as well get used to small-town life. And why should I be ashamed of garnering interest from a heart-stopping beauty like Keir Culain?
Speaking of my luscious dinner companion, I looked his way. “I told Olivia I was having a dinner guest. And that’s all. This ambush is all her.”
“Ambush?”
Staring at the table, I said, “It looks like a seduction.”
“It does,” he chuckled cheerfully. “Let’s eat.”
The stroganoff had been left in a silver chafing dish on a rolling cart next to the table. The salad, waiting in a large wood bowl, was tossed but not dressed. The vinaigrette was in an elegant little pitcher with a dragon’s head handle.
“I’m serving only because this is my house and not because I’m setting a precedent for domesticity,” I said.
“Noted. Want help?”
“I know you’re good in the kitchen,” I said as I oiled the salad. “Probably better than I am. But I can manage putting salad on a gorgeous small crystal plate.”
He looked down. “I guess this is pretty.”
“Your mom has good taste.”
He sputtered. “My mom?”
“I don’t know what else to call someone who ‘makes’ a person.”
“I take your point. ‘My maker’ sounds too sci-fi. Like I’m a robot.” He smiled. “Sure. Mom works.”
“She certainly acted like a protective mother. About me, I mean.”
“Did she?” He did his best to look clueless.
I narrowed my eyes. “You know she did.”
We chatted about movies and townspeople and court meets while Keir made yummy sounds and complemented Olivia’s version of stroganoff multiple times.
“Is it as good as the Russian Tea Room?”
“Oh. Let’s don’t ever let them know about Olivia,” he said.
“I gave her the townhouse.”
He stopped eating. “You did?”
“Yeah. I wanted to give it to Maggie, but she insisted that she ‘wouldn’t get the good out of it’. She said Olivia might like a place of her own.”
Because we’d been dinner companions long enough to be comfortable with each other, long enough to be friends, it felt completely natural to eat and chat as we normally did. But the romantic setting, the circumstance of being alone with Keir Culain,