Don't let me interrupt."
He glanced over at the approach of the sommelier. "Let me get back to you."
When he'd ordered a bottle that met with the wine steward's lofty approval, Jack laid his hand over Emma's. "Now, where was I?"
"Making me feel incredibly special."
"An easy job considering what I've got to work with."
"Now you're turning my head. Do go on."
He laughed, kissed her hand. "I love being with you. You're a lift to the day, Emma."
What did it say about her, she wondered, that "love being with you" made her heart jump? "Why don't you tell me about the rest of your day?"
"Well, I solved the mystery of Carter."
"There was a mystery?"
"Where does he go, what does he do?" Jack began, and told her the studio routine he'd observed. "I'm only around for short periods," he continued, "but those short periods range from morning to late afternoon, so my canny observations have taken in a variety of slices of the pie of their day."
"And what were your conclusions?"
"No conclusions, but many theories. Was he slinking off to have a torrid affair with Mrs. Grady, or indulging in a desperate and downward cycle of online gambling on his laptop?"
"He could do both."
"He could; he's an efficient sort." Jack paused to approve the label on the bottle presented to him. "The lady will taste."
As the uncorking ritual began, Jack leaned closer to Emma. "And there, our beloved Mackensie, unaware, trusting, slaving away. Could the seemingly innocent and affable Carter Maguire have these shameful secrets? I had to know."
"You put on a disguise and followed him to the house?"
"Considered and rejected." He waited while the sommelier poured a taste of the champagne into Emma's flute. She sipped, paused, then sent the man a smile that melted the dignified ice. "It's wonderful. Thank you."
"A pleasure, mademoiselle ." He poured the rest expertly. "I hope you'll enjoy every sip. Monsieur ." He replaced the bottle in its bucket, bowed away.
"All right, how did you solve the mystery of Carter?"
"Give me a minute, I lost my train with the spillover dazzle. Oh yeah, my method was ingenious. I asked him."
"Diabolical."
"He's writing a book. Which, you already knew," Jack concluded.
"I see them every day, or nearly. Mac told me, but your method was a lot more fun. He's been writing it on and off for years, when he can squeeze in the time. Mac gave him a nudge to work on it this summer instead of teaching summer classes. I think he's good."
"You've read it?"
"Not what he's working on, but he's had some short stories and essays published."
"He has? He's never mentioned it. Another mystery of Carter."
"I don't think you ever learn everything about anyone, no matter how long you know them, or how well. There's always another pocket somewhere."
"I guess we're proof of that."
Her eyes smiled and warmed as she took another sip of champagne. "I guess we are."
"T HE WAITERS AREN'T SNOOTY ENOUGH. YOU'VE CHARMED THEM so they want to please you."
Emma took a scant spoonful of the chocolate souffle she'd asked to share. "I believe they achieved the perfect level of snoot." She slipped the souffle between her lips. Her quiet moan spoke volumes. "This is every bit as good as Laurel's, and hers is the best I've ever tasted."
"Tasted is the operative word. Why don't you actually eat it?"
"I'm savoring." She scooped up another smidgen. "We did have five courses." She sighed over her coffee. "I feel like I've had a little trip to Paris."
He traced his finger over the back of her hand. She never wore rings, he thought. Because of her work, and because she didn't want to draw attention to her hands.
Odd he felt they were one of the most compelling aspects of her.
"Have you been?"
"To Paris?" She savored another stingy bite of souffle. "Once when I was too young to remember, but there's a picture of Mama pushing me in my stroller down the Champs-elysees. I went again when I was thirteen, with Parker and her parents, Laurel and Mac and Del. At the last minute Linda said Mac couldn't go, over some slight or infraction. It was awful. But Parker's mom went over and fixed it. She'd never say how. We had the best time. A few days in Paris then two amazing weeks in Provence."
She allowed herself another spoonful. "Have you?"
"A couple times. Del and I did the backpack through Europe thing the summer of our junior year in college. That was an experience."
"Oh, I remember. All