“I have to use the bathroom,” she blurted, lunging to her feet.
As she strode quickly from the room, Quentin called out, “Lexi.”
She stopped and glanced back at him.
He was studying the twinkling contents of his glass. “Don’t run out on me.”
Hearing the veiled warning in his voice, she swallowed. “I won’t.”
But the thought crossed her mind as she lingered in the restroom—retouching her lipstick, combing her hair, doing everything possible to delay her return to him. Whyshouldn’tshe leave the restaurant? Quentin knew she was adamantly opposed to elevating their relationship, yet he’d tricked her into having dinner with him anyway. It would serve him right if she left him high and dry. And she could, since they’d arrived in separate cars.
So what was stopping her?
“Good manners,” Lexi muttered to her reflection. “Loyalty. A guilty conscience. A big appetite.”
She sighed.None of the above.
Against her better judgment, she wanted to spend the evening with Quentin. After six days apart, she missed him. Missed him more than she should have.
“God help me,” she whispered.
Knowing she couldn’t hide in the restroom all night, she mentally squared her shoulders and headed out the door.
The solicitous maître d’ was waiting to escort her back to Quentin. But instead of being led to a table in the main dining area, Lexi was taken to one of the restaurant’s private rooms. As soon as she stepped through the door, she gasped sharply.
The room’s elegant decor featured marble columns and gleaming parquet floors. The walls were hung with mirrors and lush artwork that captured the French countryside. Lights from a crystal chandelier were dimmed intimately low, while candles glowed on the linen-covered table. Nearby, a pair of double doors led onto a terrace that overlooked the glittering night skyline. The soft strains of classic French music could be heard in the background.
“Ohhh,” Lexi breathed, gazing around in utter amazement. She’d been transported back to France.
Quentin rose from behind a baby grand piano tucked into the corner, where he’d been plucking out a few errant chords. He couldn’t play a lick, but vowed to learn someday.
“There you are.” He came toward her slowly, his gaze latched onto hers. “I was starting to think you’d bolted on me.”
“I considered it.” But her voice broke, and to her dismay, tears welled in her eyes. “Quentin. This is… I can’t believe…” She shook her head, too choked up to continue.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured, humor threading his deep voice. “At least not until you’ve tasted the food.”
She let out a teary laugh. Her heart was so full it felt as though it’d burst out of her chest at any moment.
Quentin took her hand and led her over to the table by the French doors. He pulled out her chair, and when she sat down, he gently pushed it back in, making her feel as cherished and delicate as fine china.
As he claimed his own seat, she braced her elbows on the table, rested her forehead on her clasped hands and drew a deep, shaky breath, praying for composure. When she raised her head again, she found Quentin watching her with an expression of tender adoration.
Before she could speak, a waiter appeared with a bottle of Chablis and a platter of French cheeses. To Lexi’s delight, the young man spoke flawless French. After pouring their wine and conversing with them for a few minutes, he departed with the promise to return shortly with their meals.
When Lexi and Quentin were alone again, she asked incredulously, “Whendid you plan all this? You’ve been tied up with the trial since we got back from our trip!”
He gave her an amused look. “I know how to multi-task.”
“Obviously.” She swept an awed glance around the room. “This is absolutely amazing, Quentin. The paintings, the terrace, the music. Even the French-speaking waiter. I feel like we’re back in Burgundy.”
“Good,” he said softly. “That was the point. Since we didn’t get a chance to visit one of those world-renowned restaurants while we were in France, I figured I’d make it up to you.”
Her heart expanded even more. “But it wasn’t your fault.I’mthe one who harangued Asha into letting me and Michael cook dinner for everyone on our last night there.”
“I know.” Quentin smiled wryly. “And I was really looking forward to that meal you promised me when we got home.”
She gave him an abashed grin. “Rain check?”
