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Solene’s face flushes. She looks down and begins to play with the hem of the tablecloth. "Thank you."
"You’re welcome."
"O-k-a-y…" Giorgina fans herself. "You may insist there’s nothing between the two of you, but the sparks between you two say otherwise, alright?" She looks to Rick, who hasn’t moved from his stance beside to her.
He looks taken aback, then slowly nods. "Much as it pains me, I have to side with her."
"I'm always right, if you'd only admit it." Her eyes gleam.
He scowls. A nerve tics at his temple. Interesting. Apparently, my PR manager has the ability to rub him the wrong way.
"Anywho,"—she turns to Solene—"if you can put me in touch with your manager, I’ll talk to them, and we’ll figure out our stories so we don’t contradict each other."
"Oh, I don’t know his—" Solene begins.
"Check your phone," I murmur.
She blinks, then pulls her phone from her bag which she placed on the floor behind her. "Ah, his number is—"
Giorgina snatches the phone from Solene. Her fingers fly over the screen. Then her phone, which is still face-up on the table, buzzes. She hands over Solene’s phone, picks up her own and a few seconds later, it’s Solene’s phone buzzing.
"Now, we’re connected." She taps at her phone, then slides it inside her handbag. "I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone."
"We’re not—" Solene begins, but Giorgina pivots.
"Come on, then. Chop, chop." She beckons to Rick, then flounces off.
Rick's features grow thunderous. The tendons of his throat pop. He curls his fingers into fists at his sides and glares after her.
"Easy, big fella, you don’t want to make things more difficult for yourself," I drawl.
He snorts. "Speak for yourself." Then he half bows in Solene’s direction. "Pardon the intrusion." He turns and stalks after Giorgina.
"Uh, they don’t like each other?" Solene glances in his wake.
I chuckle. "That’s foreplay."
"What?" She turns to me. "You’re kidding, right?"
"Nope. We’ll see how long they hold out against each other."
She moves around in her seat.
I stare at her with interest. "Your butt bothering you?"
She tosses her head. "What do you think?"
I can’t stop the smirk that curls my lips.
She stops fidgeting, glances around the restaurant, then reaches for her wine glass, and curls her fingers around the stem. "Why did you buy this restaurant?"
"I wanted privacy, and this was a good investment."
"And you made sure no one else dined here? That doesn’t seem like sound business sense."
"It was worth it."
She flushes again, takes another sip of her glass. "I really don’t understand you."
