the skirt and blouse, glad I’d chosen a black skirt this time. The blouse was one of my favorites, a sleeveless wraparound in a soft bronze that brought out the gold flecks in my eyes. It hugged my figure and I thought it looked flattering on me. After what I’d just been through, I wanted to look as nice and professional as possible.
Emerging from the bathroom, I saw Parker had retreated to the desk and booted up his laptop. Grabbing my makeup bag, I touched up my powder and lip gloss and redid my hair, carefully pinning up the long strands into a twist. When I was done, I felt much better.
“Let’s go grab some lunch,” Parker said. “I’m starving.”
I readily agreed, wanting to avoid being in the confined space of the hotel room alone with him for as long as possible. Slipping on a pair of black heeled sandals, I picked up my purse and was ready to go. Parker grabbed his suit jacket and held the door for me.
The hotel had a restaurant, so that’s where we went. It was just the kind of place I liked, with lots of dark wood and leather, plush seating, thick tablecloths, and heavy silverware. The maitre d’ led us to a booth.
Parker and I were both looking over the menu when the waiter came up. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, looking expectantly at me.
I desperately wanted a real drink, but knew Parker would frown on that. “Um, iced tea,” I said.
“Sir?”
“Grey Goose martini, straight up, dirty,” Parker said. I stared at him as he glanced my way. “Make that two,” he added. “She’ll have one, too, only not dirty.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that—not just that Parker was drinking in the middle of the day, but that he knew I didn’t like olive juice in my martini.
“And why are we drinking?” I asked once the waiter had left.
“I could use one,” Parker said with a shrug. “After the plane ride you had, I thought you could, too.”
Certainly couldn’t disagree with that. I was still having trouble looking Parker in the eye without seeing my ass waving around in the air. Even as I thought it, I could feel my face warm.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, fiddling with my napkin.
As long as I’d worked for Parker, we’d never shared a meal, so my thoughts as I glanced over the menu were a little chaotic. Though I did a lot for Parker, knew probably way too much about his habits and preferences, it felt strange to be sitting across from him in this context.
I tried to shake off the feeling. It was just work. Chances were we’d eat a couple of more times before the trip was over, obviously, so I’d better get over it already.
Salad was out. Trying to stuff a too-big piece of lettuce in my mouth and walking around with a poppy seed stuck between my teeth would be how that would end up. Likewise, soup was out. After the pop fiasco, it’d just be my luck to drip something on me. Sandwiches and basically anything I’d have to eat with my hands was also out. Nibbling on fries was one thing. My big maw gaping open to take a chunk out of a dripping cheeseburger was another, though that sounded really good.
Which left…not a lot of options. A mushroom risotto dish with scallops, a halibut dish with rice, a petite filet…oh wait, lobster pot pie. Perfect. I loved lobster.
Parker ordered the steak, of course. When the waiter had set down our drinks and departed, Parker lifted his in a toast.
“Cheers,” he said before taking a drink.
I took a sip of my cocktail as well. Yum. Just what I needed. I let out a long, quiet sigh.
“Sorry your flight was so bad,” Parker said. “Make sure you call and have Travel upgrade you for the return flight.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, concealing my surprise. I would definitely take that upgrade.
A few awkward moments passed where we didn’t speak, just sipped our respective drinks. I avoided his gaze, instead people-watching the other customers.
“I know it’s none of my business,” he carefully began, “but are you and Ryker…together? Dating?”
I stiffened. “Listen, I really don’t want to talk about it, or be insulted again.”
“What I said earlier, it came out wrong,” Parker said. “You’re a smart, attractive woman. I didn’t mean you aren’t worthy of the attention. It’s more like he’s not worthy of yours.”