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“All set.” He hands me his business card. “If anything comes up, just give me a call.”
“Sure.” I grab my purse and pull out one of my own cards. “Here’s my information for if anything comes up with you.”
“Frankie.” He meets my gaze. “Trust me. I will be keeping this date.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Frankie
I arrive slightly late to The Glass House on Friday. I don’t want to appear overeager, and oddly, I’m not overeager at all. I kept the date because Phantom and I have nothing going on.
I do have a number for him, but I don’t even know his real name.
So why not date Tom as well?
“Good evening,” the host says. “Do you have a reservation this evening, ma’am?”
I hate when people call me ma’am. But to this woman, who looks all of eighteen, I guess I’m a ma’am. “I’m meeting someone. Mr. Carson?”
“Tom Carson? Yes, he’s already here. Let me show you to your table.”
I follow the hostess to the back, to a very private table.
The restaurant is dimly lit, but already I can see that Tom looks amazing. I expected him to be in a suit and tie, but he wears black pants and a white button-down unbuttoned at the neck.
Then I see his suit coat and his tie over his chair. I can’t blame him for discarding the tie. He said he’d be traveling today, and he’s probably tired.
He rises when he sees me. “Frankie, I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”
“I apologize. I got delayed.”
A glass of amber liquid sits in front of him. “The server already came by and asked for drinks.” He waves to a woman who comes over quickly.
“I see your companion has arrived. What can I get you to drink?”
“A martini,” I say automatically. “But could you put a splash of St-Germain in it?”
“Absolutely.” She makes a quick note and then cocks her head. “You’re actually the second person to order that tonight.”
My eyes widen, and my heart nearly skips a beat. “Is the person who ordered it still here?”
“No, it was a few hours ago. I’m pretty sure he’s gone.”
“But it was a he.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Did he have brown hair and brown eyes?”
She wrinkles her forehead. “I think so. But honestly, I see so many diners each night, I can’t be sure.”
Oh my God. Phantom was here.
“Please tell me he wasn’t wearing a mask.”
She laughs. “No, of course not. Why would he be?”
“Do you remember what time he was in here? Did he have a reservation?”
“He most likely had a reservation. We’re usually fully booked on Fridays and Saturdays. No one can get in without a reservation unless they want to wait for two or three hours.”
I don’t know much about Phantom, but I don’t think he would tolerate a two- or three-hour wait. Besides, he’s gone already. If he didn’t have a reservation, he’d still be here waiting.
“I’ll get your drink ordered.” The server walks away quickly.
“You certainly gave her the third degree,” Tom says.
“Yeah. I only know one other person who drinks martinis that way.”
“The brown-haired and brown-eyed man, I guess.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just ask his name?”
“I… I don’t know his name.”
Tom tightens his lips. “Is this mystery man my competition?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing.” I pick up my menu and pretend to look at it. “I met him at a masquerade ball, and he wouldn’t tell me his name, but he introduced me to this martini with a splash of St-Germain. It’s amazing. You should taste it when it gets here.”
“I’m not much of a martini man. I prefer good bourbon or scotch.”
“You may change your mind when you taste it.”
He laughs. “Okay. For you, I will taste the amazing St-Germain martini.”
I can’t help squirming in my chair. My skin is on fire.
Phantom was here!
Unless there’s someone else who drinks a martini like that, but I don’t think there is, or the waitress wouldn’t have been so surprised that I ordered the same thing.
Brown hair and brown eyes… Of course, she wasn’t sure, but she probably would’ve remembered if he had searing blue eyes or something.
You’re on a date, Frankie. You can’t spend the whole evening fantasizing about another man.
I heed my own advice and look up from my menu. “So where were you? You said you were traveling for business this week?”
“Yes. I was in L.A. Then Boston, and I just flew back this afternoon.”
“Right. Black Inc. is headquartered in Boston.”
He nods and takes a sip of his bourbon. “It is. Though we do a lot of work here.”
“Have you ever met Braden Black?”
“Yeah, a few times. Him and his father and brother. They work mostly from Boston, but they’re here several times a month.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it? They’re good guys, all three of them. But I have to tell you that Braden is most definitely taken.”
