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Knowing Camille had a pet added to Miguel’s admiration of her.
The door opened and an image of utter beauty appeared. Camille wore a strapless black cocktail dress with her red locks cascading over her delicate shoulders.
“Hi.” A tiny dog shot out from behind her to Miguel and Roberto. “Peanut, come here.” But the dachshund didn’t, remaining at their feet, wagging his tail. He and Roberto bent down and patted him.
“What a friendly little dog.” Getting lost in Camille’s blue eyes, Miguel said, “Quite the welcome wagon you’ve got here.”
“This time.” She looked a bit confused. “He’s usually not so friendly with strangers.”
Roberto picked the dog up in his arms. “Peanut’s got good taste, Camille. How couldn’t he, with an owner like you? My God, look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
She smiled. “Thank you. So are you and Miguel. Let me take Peanut from you and get him put to bed.”
Roberto handed the dog to her.
She held the little canine with loving arms. “Come on inside, guys. I’ll just be a second.”
As she took Peanut down the hallway, Miguel turned to Roberto and in a low tone said, “Wow, Roberto. Aren’t we two of the luckiest men in Dallas? Look who we’re going out with tonight.”
“Very lucky. She is absolutely stunning and so very sweet.”
“She’s everything a man could ever want. Just look at this place. Perfect, like her.” He scanned the room, which was decorated in shades of gray with highlights of red. “She must like red, so I’m sure she’ll like where we’re taking her to dinner.”
“Where are you taking me to dinner?” she asked, returning to the room.
“La Chambre Rouge,” Miguel and Roberto said together.
She grinned. “I simply love their food.”
“Have you met Pierre, Camille?” Miguel asked.
“Pierre Leblanc, the owner? No, I’ve never had the pleasure, but I have three of his cookbooks.”
“He’ll be very pleased to hear that,” Roberto said. “How many of our cookbooks do you have?”
“I have ever single one you’ve ever written.” She laughed. “In total, that means one. Exotic Spanish Cuisine.”
“Camille called your bluff, hermano, didn’t she?”
“You think so?” Roberto got a devilish look on his face. “What recipe of ours have you tried, Camille?”
“Chicken Costa Brava, but it was terrible. I really need some professional help in the kitchen, Roberto. Do you think you might give me some tips?” She turned away from Roberto to Miguel and sent a secretive wink.
Miguel nodded. “Better wave the white flag, hermano.”
“White flag? I get to show her some tips on cooking, which means I get to spend more time with her.” Roberto put his arm around her. “That was a win for me, Miguel.”
Miguel smiled. “You’re not spending more time with her without me.”
“Señores, por favor. I’m getting hungry.”
As they walked out the door to the limo, Miguel continued teasing Roberto. “Besides, between the two of us, I make the best Chicken Costa Brava.”
“There’s only one way to be sure,” Roberto said. “We’ll have a cook-off and Camille will be the judge.”
“Are you two always this competitive?” she asked, grinning.
“Just since we met you, Camille,” he answered. “For you, we want to give you our best.”
