Page 66 of Frosted Fakes

THE RESTAURANT WAS warm and golden, candles flickering on white tablecloths. The kind of ambiance that suggested romance and conversations that didn't involve your girlfriend's terrifying mother interrogating you.

Not that Julia was her girlfriend. Not officially. They hadn't discussed labels. Elliott didn’t think she liked labels.

Jamie met them at the door with the fixed smile of a man walking into an ambush. "Welcome. Your table's ready."

"How lovely." Gabby swept past him. "Though I’m sure you were instructed to join us. You won’t let me down, will you?" She put a finger under Jamie’s chin and raised his eyes to hers, practically purring.

Jamie shot Elliott and Julia a look that clearly said help me. Elliott pretended not to notice.

"Right, yes," Jamie squeaked. "I hate you both," he whispered to Julia and Elliott as Gabby waltzed off to their table.

The corner booth was intimate and secluded. Gabby slid in first, patting the seat beside her while looking at Jamie. Julia and Elliott took the opposite side, pressed together in a way that felt almost natural now.

"Wine," Gabby declared. "Something red. Expensive."

Jamie grimaced at Julia and Elliott, then fled toward the bar.

Gabby turned her attention to Elliott and Julia. "So. What’s new in the land of newly found love?"

Under the table, Julia's hand found Elliott's. "Nothing," Elliott said firmly.

"Not a thing," Julia agreed, her fingers pressing into Elliott’s.

Gabby leaned forward. "Hmmm. I’m not entirely sure I believe that." She leaned back again. "I believe that traditionally, I’m supposed to enquire about your intentions toward my daughter."

"Mum," Julia said. "Stop it."

"Well, your father isn’t around to ask that kind of question. So the onus falls onto me," Gabby said. She turned to Elliott. "Which is the problem with marrying a flaky man with a dubious title who flees to a Caribbean island at the first possible opportunity."

Elliott could understand wanting to flee from Gabby Richardson, despite the fact that she was incredibly beautiful.

"He went for tax reasons," Julia filled in. "As you well know."

"Taxes and a blonde with big—"

"Honorable," Elliott said, finally catching up with the conversation and thinking she’d better stop things before they started. "My intentions are nothing but honorable." Julia's hand tightened on hers. Elliott glanced over to find Julia staring at her with an unreadable expression.

"Ah," said Gabby. Then a wolfish smile appeared on her face. "I wish I could say the same."

She was watching Jamie walk toward the booth with a bottle of wine, and Elliott rolled her eyes.

"A lovely Burgundy. Shall I pour?"

"Please." Gabby's attention shifted to him. "And do sit down, Jamie."

"I'm really not—"

"I insist."

Jamie sat with the expression of a man who had accepted his fate.

The dinner that followed was a masterclass in how not to double date. Or single date, for that matter. Gabby asked pointed questions; Elliott and Julia answered with truths that felt easier now. Yes, they'd had disagreements. Yes, the living situation had been tense at first. But they'd figured it out. Were still figuring it out.

But all the time, Gabby’s eyes were on Jamie. Watching his fork disappear into his mouth, watching his hands clasp his wine glass. Privately, Elliott thought that Gabby was laying it on a bit thick, an opinion that Jamie seemed to agree with.

Just as dessert appeared, Jamie winced and then reached down under the table. "I think you’ll find that that was my leg, Mrs. Richardson."

"I know," said Gabby. "And if I have to tell you again to call me Gabby, then I’ll be most insulted."