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“I didn’t realize your mom was local. What about your dad?”
Ugh. She should’ve seen that question coming. She should’ve headed it off before he’d had a chance to ask. She didn’t like to talk about her dad.
“No, just my mom. And Maia. You know, my friend who owns the salon.” She flipped her hair with her right hand and felt dumb for doing that. “She’s the one who did this.” She raked her hand through her hair and let it fall back into place. “For that hair show last week.”
Those eyes were still on her. She didn’t want to love it, because that’s how she got hurt. But dammit, she did.
“Have you ever been to the restaurant R’evolution?”
“Is that the one over on Bienville Street?”
“That’s the one. I made reservations for us.”
Shut the front door. What?
First, he’d made a reservation for their dinner rather than just showing up somewhere and working his magic in person—or having her make the reservation. All she had to do was call any restaurant in town and say Austin Fortune would like a table. It didn’t matter how far in advance the average person had to reserve a table, they would make room for Austin at a moment’s notice, because he was Austin Fortune.
The fact that he’d made the reservation himself... Okay, she was not going to read anything more into that than...
Than what?
R’evolution was in the French Quarter, across Canal Street and down some ways from the Roosevelt Hotel. While it was in the general area of the hotel where they were having the ball, it was still a surprise. They could have easily just grabbed tapas in the hotel’s Fountain Lounge. Or if Austin wanted to be fancy, they could’ve popped into Domenica, the Roosevelt’s Italian restaurant.
She certainly wasn’t complaining. She was too off-kilter for that.
“Is R’evolution okay?” he asked. “We can go somewhere else if you like.”
“It’s fabulous. I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“It’s a date, then.”
Felicity bit the insides of her cheeks. Clearly, he had no idea what he just said. It wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting...for which he’d made a reservation for two at a fabulous restaurant. But she wasn’t going to point that out and embarrass him.
“I have a meeting,” he was saying, “but I should be ready to go by 6:30. I thought we could leave the office and go to the Roosevelt and check out the space first. We should have plenty of time to make our 7:45 reservation.”
“Oh, you were going to come back to the office?” she asked. “I’m looking after Maia’s dogs while she’s out of town this week. I need to go home and let them out. Should I meet you at the Roosevelt?”
“There’s no sense trying to park two cars downtown,” he said. “I’ll swing by and pick you up at 6:30. Does that give you enough time to take care of the animals?”
She paused, waiting for him to say, Just kidding. But it wasn’t like Austin to joke like that.
“Sure. 6:30, it is. I’ll text you my address.”
As he walked down the hall, Felicity watched him, feeling like she’d just entered the twilight zone.
Fifteen minutes later, she was jotting down questions for the rep at the Roosevelt and pondering the new dilemma—should she change clothes or wear the skirt and blouse she’d worn to work?—when her desk phone buzzed. It was Carla at the front desk.
“Hey, ’Liss, there’s someone here for Austin. Her name is Macks Cole. She says she doesn’t have an appointment, but she’d like to talk to him.”
Felicity could hear her pulse in her ears. Macks was here? Her antenna had probably pricked up, warning her that another female was encroaching on her man.
“Tell her to have a seat. I’ll be right there.”
So, this time Macks had come to Felicity’s door. Or actually, Austin’s door was probably more accurate. Felicity checked her posture and took a deep breath before she turned the corner into the reception area.
“Ms. Cole, hello. How may I help you?”
Macks pinned her with the same bemused expression she’d worn the other day when Felicity had shown up at her door. As if Felicity had greeted her speaking some sort of goo-goo-ga-ga baby-talk gibberish. Today she was wearing an all-black ensemble: skinny jeans, a fitted shell and an oversize, long-sleeve maxi cardigan that fell all the way to her ankles and looked butter-soft. Her feet were clad in patent leather platform sandals. Her makeup was minimal, except for black winged eyeliner and shiny, candy-apple red lip gloss coloring her perfect cupid’s bow mouth.
