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“Oh, yes, you’re brilliant,” she sighs, and something inside me goes all warm and fire colored. I have to admit, I do like it when she says nice things to me.
The tent flap billows to the side and Dillon steps out, grinning widely. Again all the cameras start snapping and I shake my head, subtly gesturing for him to get back in the tent. He pretends he doesn't understand me and just stands there, beaming at her.
“What do you think you're doing?” I growl at him through clenched teeth when we are within earshot. “You're supposed to stay out of sight.”
“Rob is almost here. I figured you would want to know,” he shrugs, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. He is definitely not being even a little bit discreet.
“Oh, thanks for the heads up,” Bella says sweetly. She brushes her fingertips across my chest, gazing up into my eyes even while she's talking to Dillon. More snapping. “Is this where we’re going to be dining? Away from everybody?”
I hold the tent flap aside for her, allowing us one more moment in profile to gaze at each other for everyone to see before ducking through the opening.
Holding my hands out, I let her look around for a second, take it all in. “It’s nice, isn't it? Wolfgang Puck knows how to do take-out.”
She rolls her eyes at me, throwing a playful glance over her shoulder. “Oh, you're a funny one,” she giggles. “I bet you haven't really had take-out in —”
She stops up short as Wolfgang enters the enclosure, his ruddy cheeks crinkling in mirth.
“Good evening!” he crows in his clipped Germanic accent. He sets the plates down with a flourish on the linen covered tables. “You're expecting one more, ja? Perhaps another lady friend? Or?"
“It’s not what you think,” Dillon huffs as he sits down at the chair at the end. He reaches out to remove the silver cover from the tray and Wolfgang slaps his fingers smartly.
“You must wait!” the chef declares, then plants his feet shoulder width apart and crosses his arms over his barrel chest. He looks like a jolly security guard. Santa on a mission.
Nodding at one of the empty seats, he beckons Bella to sit down. I tug the chair out for her politely and she slides into it, tucking her silk skirt underneath those beautiful round thighs.
“Thank you,” she murmurs politely. She is still gazing up at Wolfgang, obviously a bit starstruck. Part of me is a little jealous that she never looked quite that starstruck over either of us, even though we’re worth at least a hundred times what he is. But still, you can never underestimate the romantic power of a good chef. I’m sure the awe will transfer to us somehow.
I hear the tent enclosure open again behind me and another round of flashes and shutter sounds.
“Well, hi, Rob,”
Dillon announces sourly. Bella sneaks a look at me.
“Am I late?” the man huffs, clearly out of breath from his short trip across the compressed gravel in front of the fountain. He waddles over to a chair and stuffs himself into it, probably about two inches too close to the table. With a sweaty smile, he sticks his hand out for Bella to shake.
“Bella Cage,” she nods politely.
“Of course!” he beams. “Rob Meagher, USA Today."
He sticks his hand out for me to shake, then swivels around for Dillon who does it with a slightly sour look on his face. Then he turns towards Chef Wolfgang, but just waves instead.
“Well, this is really an honor!” Rob says breathlessly. “I mean, really an honor. I don't know who I am more pleased to meet!”
“It is an honor to me too as well!” Chef Wolfgang smiles, and he almost sounds like he means it. Then, with a flourish, he removes the tray covers, revealing a baby beet and arugula salad with glistening sauteed scallops.
“Oh, wow,” Bella breathes, inhaling deeply. I see her lick her lower lip in anticipation, and wish we could skip right to dessert. That tongue of hers.
“Wow is right!” Rob repeats.
“I feel like we've had this before,” Dillon sighs.
I shoot him a look, careful not to let Rob see. Dillon is sideways in his chair, rolling a glass of iced bourbon dangerously between his fingers. I didn't see him start drinking it, but it's already almost gone. He's studiously not meeting my eyes and pretending he doesn't know that I know that he's intent on marching up to the line.
“So, I didn't realize we were getting USA Today, today,” I start, hoping to get this interview underway and then over with. “Thanks for stopping by. We just threw this little dinner together, just totally spur the moment…”
“Really?” Bella asks, her eyes wide with corny disbelief. I see Rob nodding with satisfaction. He's loving the Cinderella act.
“Oh, come on, Emmet,” Dillon sneers. “You've pulled this Buckingham Fountain act three or four times already. You should be an expert at it by now.”
