She swallowed back a groan. “Where did this conversation take place?”
“At the Mile High.”
She might have known. The Mile High, a private Vegas club whose membership was restricted to pilots, was a hangout for flyers, and Adam often went there to have dinner and scout recruits.
“They’re quite persuasive,” he said. “I wish I had their people skills. They almost convinced me to fly for Lars.”
“Not something you’d consider?”
“Not at the moment.”
If Adam and Ian couldn’t convince him, no one could.
The food arrived, and over the course of the meal, Jannie found Nick to be an engaging conversationalist, discussing everything from the upcoming lunar eclipse to speculation about the ingredients in the salad dressing. She was enjoying him very much, and she had to admit, the man was quite the eye candy.
Her gaze kept returning to his jaw; she wondered what it would look like sans beard. His neck was well-muscled and sinewy, and her mouth watered thinking about how that would feel under her lips.
He cleared his throat.
She looked up, and her gaze locked with his. For a few moments, they stared at each other.
“It’s good to see you again, Jannie,” he finally said.
“It’s good to see you, too. This has been fun.”
He caught her gaze and held it. “The best is yet to come.”
CHAPTER 7
Jannie
Was she imagining that what he said had a double meaning? Jannie watched Nick pull in one side of his lower lip in such a sexy move that she promptly decided he’d done it on purpose.
He smiled at the short, stout maître d’, who approached with a big grin.
“How was dinner,MademoiselleJannie?” the man asked confidently. He well knew the answer. The rooftop restaurant at the Lark had a flawless reputation.
Jannie grinned at the heavily French pronunciation of her name. “Perfection, as always, Francois. Thank you.”
Francois turned to Nick. “Was everything to your satisfaction,MonsieurKent?”
“That would be an understatement. My compliments to the chef. I’ve never had a better coq au vin, not even in Paris.”
Francois nodded, not appearing at all surprised. “I will convey this to Chef. Dessert menu for you?”
Nick looked to Jannie, his deep brown eyes hopeful. “How’re you feelin’? Up for dessert?”
She warmed at his considerate question. “I don’t know. It’s hit or miss these days.”
“Let’s hope this evening is a hit, then.” He accepted the small menu that Francois handed him. “How about we order a few things, and you see which you can tolerate?”
She nodded.
“Let’s see …” He scanned the selections, his eyes bright, and Jannie thought he looked like a kid turned loose in a candy store.
She opened her own menu, smiling. It was refreshing to see a man excited about dessert. Her brothers avoided sweets as if they were poison.
“Madagascar vanilla panna cotta,” Jannie read aloud. “Meh.”
