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She laughed. “Now I understand why the place is so crowded. It’s just . . .” She stopped, looking past him, and ground her teeth.
He gave her a curious look before his head turned. He saw the reason for her consternation. There was Dal Blake with the florist, attentive and smiling as they headed for a booth right beside Jeff and Meadow’s.
“Well, what a coincidence,” Dal exclaimed, putting down his plate to shake hands with Jeff. “What are you two doing here?”
“Eating,” Meadow said without cracking a smile.
Dal chuckled. “Somebody’s in a sour mood. Maybe that dessert will sweeten you up.”
She just glared at him before she turned her attention to the florist. She forced a smile. “Nice to see you again, Miss Conyers.”
Dana smiled back. “Good to see you, too, Miss Dawson. This is our favorite hangout on the weekends,” she added with an adoring glance at Dal, who frowned and looked briefly irritated.
“It’s one of several we go to,” he amended. He studied Meadow in her pantsuit. “No dress?” he commented.
She pushed back her long blond hair. “It’s casual Saturday,” she said.
Dal looked pointedly at Dana in her brief red and white dress with ruffles at the neckline and long sleeves. She had pretty legs that were on display, discreetly enhanced by tight-fitting black hose.
“I like women in dresses,” he said, and smiled as Dana flushed with pleasure at the remark.
“You just like looking at Dana’s fabulous legs,” Jeff chided, and then seemed to bite his tongue at the remark.
Dana’s eyes brightened and she laughed. “Thanks, Jeff. That was sweet.”
“She does have fabulous legs,” Dal agreed, studying them with male appreciation.
Meadow did her best to ignore him, busily munching mashed potatoes with gravy.
“Obviously, Miss Dawson doesn’t like having hers on display,” Dal said with dripping sarcasm.
“Mine don’t go all the way up, so I have to conceal them in pants,” Meadow said without looking at him.
There was muffled laughter from Jeff.
Dana laughed.
“These potatoes are awesome,” Meadow told Jeff. “I don’t usually like garlic, but they do add a lot to the taste.”
“Hard on amorous men, however,” Dal said deliberately. “Right, Jeff?” he chided.
Jeff looked embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “I like garlic.”
Meadow hated having her boss embarrassed. She glared up at Dal. “I like garlic, too. I’m somewhat less impressed by overbearing male pigs.”
Dal’s eyes twinkled. “Seen any around?”
“I’m staring right at one,” she shot back.
“Uh, Dal, shouldn’t we get to our food? The movie starts in an hour . . .”
“Absolutely,” he told Dana, smiling as he eased her into the booth and slid in across from her.
Meadow looked at Jeff and rolled her eyes comically. He chuckled, relieved at the interruption.
All through the lovely meal, it was impossible not to overhear Dal’s deep, drawling voice complimenting Dana on her appearance and referring to other dates, and places they’d been, and people they’d met.
By the time Meadow finished the last of her dessert and her now-cold coffee, she was more than ready to get out of the restaurant by the quickest possible method.
