Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,101

pots, gilded framed mirrors, and a row of glistening chandeliers overhead competed for my attention. When Jason pulled out my chair at a table beside a large window, I slid onto my seat, feeling agog at my surroundings. I tried not to let it show, while for his part, Jason was as at ease as if he ate at restaurants that had three Michelin stars every day. I envied him that.

I glanced away and discovered Eleanor watching me with a speculative look. I wondered if she could tell there was tension between Jason and me. I forced my lips into the shape of a smile even though it felt as hollow as a broken promise. She returned it and glanced away. I doubted that I’d fooled her one bit.

The meal began with the waiter giving us a warm welcome. There were several options for dinner, but we deferred to Severin when he requested La Balade Gourmande, which consisted of the same eight courses served to everyone at the table.

“It’s perfect,” Robbie said. “Now I won’t feel like someone ordered something better.”

At €350 per person, I just hoped my corporate credit card wouldn’t explode when I charged the meal. I glanced at Jason, but he maintained his ease. So annoying.

The sommelier and Severin conversed about wine. Le Cinq was known for its fifty-thousand-bottle wine cellar, so there was much to debate.

“If I may make a recommendation,” Jason said. I turned my head to look at him as if he’d lost his mind. I’d always assumed he was a beer guy. What was he thinking? “I believe the 2011 Pauillac, Château Pichon-Longueville, would be a good selection with which to start.”

Robbie looked at him, clearly impressed, and nodded. The sommelier straightened and said, “Excellent choice, sir.”

I glanced at Jason in surprise. Was he bluffing? Or did he know wine? What else didn’t I know about him?

After the bottle was opened and Robbie and Jason gave it an approving taste, we shared a toast.

“To new friends and making a difference in the world for those less fortunate,” Jason said. Eleanor looked particularly pleased with his humility, and I began to feel as if I was being shut out of the rapport building, particularly since Jason had yet to look in my direction.

I decided to steer the conversation to the purpose of our dinner. “Before we get distracted by the food, which I’ve heard is amazing, did you have any questions for Jason and me about our ACC proposal?” I asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” Robbie said. He leaned forward, bracing himself with an elbow on the table. He held my gaze and asked, “What do you think about Mars?”

“Mars?” I asked. “As in the Red Planet?”

Robbie nodded enthusiastically. I blinked. From my research, I knew Mars was a subject of great interest for him, but I had no idea what this had to do with the ACC or our ask. Jason gamely stepped into the breach.

“I think it’s highly habitable,” he said. “I’ll bet in our lifetime, there’ll be colonies.”

Robbie grinned. “Right you are.”

I glanced at Eleanor to see what she thought about this turn in the conversation. She sipped her wine, perfectly at ease.

I turned my head to look at Jason. Okay, mostly I was shooting daggers out of my eyeballs at him—why, oh why, couldn’t that be an actual thing—but since he wouldn’t make eye contact with me, he was missing it. Fine. If the boy wanted to play, I was all in. No one knew as much about Severin as I did. Not even Knightley.

I smoothed my expression and turned back to Severin. “With the advances made in constant-acceleration technology, such as ion drives and solar sails, the nine months that it takes to get to Mars could be cut down to just a few weeks. I can’t speak for anyone else, but if that became the norm, I think living on the Red Planet would be a dream come true.”

Jason finally turned to look at me. His gaze was wide eyed, as if he couldn’t believe I’d gone there, but also amused, which warmed me. I turned back to Severin.

He favored me with an enormous grin that was surprisingly infectious, given that we were talking about living on Mars and all. “Tell me, how would you occupy yourself?”

Oh, shit. My bluff might have gone too far. I scanned my brain for viable employment. I suspected there weren’t many jobs in the charitable fundraising arts in outer space. The thought of