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CHAPTER TWO
THEYWALKEDINTOa Michelin-starred Asian fusion restaurant on the waterfront. “Oh, I’ve heard amazing things about this place,” Jenna said with approval.
Those royal pearly whites flashed. “Glad to know I pleased, but I’m surprised you have not been here before.”
Jenna just smiled and shook her head. When lunch would probably cost more than her car payment, this was not someplace that could make it onto her restaurants to try list.
Not to mention the weeks-long wait on reservations, which begged the question: How had he gotten them in for an impromptu lunch?
Or had lunch not been impromptu at all?
Whoever had done the decor was a minimalist with a preference for Japanese artwork, green plants and teak wood. A water feature trickled down the center of one wall over flat natural stones.
Jenna’s stress level went down several notches as they stepped into the peaceful dining area. The noise level was low despite every table being filled. The architect and interior designers had done their job and then some.
“You had to have made reservations,” she remarked.
And still, he’d offered to wait while she finished what she was working on.
“The chef is an old friend,” Dima said dismissively. Like that was no big deal. “He keeps this table for his guests.”
The table they’d been led to was nearer the kitchens, but not even remotely poorly located. Though she had to admit that none of the tables were situated in a spot she would have considered less than ideal.
“You haveoldfriends?” she teased. “You’re barely thirty.”
“Is that like being barely pregnant?” he asked sardonically. “Either you are, or you aren’t. I am in fact thirty. You were there for the ridiculous cake Nataliya insisted on.”
Nataliya had done an Over the Hill party for Dima’s thirtieth as a joke, since thirty was in no way over the hill and the man was the youngest adult in the family.
“The cake was supposed to be shaped like a hill.”
“It looked like a pile of manure with green bits. Not at all appetizing.”
The epic fail had been funnier than the party theme. “It tasted good, though.”
He pulled her chair out for her, subtly maneuvering the maître d’ out of the way. “It didn’t taste like it looked, and for that I should probably be grateful.”
“She was trying to give a new baker a chance.” Jenna smiled up at Dima as she settled into her seat.
The maître d’ placed her napkin over her lap, and Jenna murmured, “Thank you.”
The woman moved away quietly after Dima had taken his seat. The table could seat four but was still intimate for two.
“Well, I don’t see the bakery getting a lot of orders off of that monstrosity of a cake,” Dima opined.
“Then you’re very short-sighted,” Jenna informed him. “Nataliya told me the baker has been inundated with orders for novelty cakes since pictures of your party went viral.”
“To each their own.”
She laughed. “You can be such a snob.”
“Because I don’t want to eat food that looks like it’s already digested?”
“Don’t be gross. I’d like to eat my lunch now without that image in my head, thank you.”
“I beg your pardon. I did not mean to put you off your feed.”
Jenna burst into laughter. “I’m not a horse.”
