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“And he replies, ‘I know’? Did you know that was improvised?”
“Seriously?”
“He was supposed to say ‘I love you too,’ but he didn’t think it fit with his character.”
I glance across at her. She’s looking away, at the shops and cafés as we pass. “It’s such a great line,” she says, clearly still thinking aboutStar Wars. “So Han.”
I smile and look back at the road, conscious that I haven’t felt as happy as this for a long time.
The Uber takes us through the city to Lambton Quay and drops us outside the Parliament buildings. Bringing my briefcase with me, I take Alice’s hand and head toward the executive wing, which is called the Beehive because its shape resembles a traditional woven form of beehive called a skep. Alice’s eyes widen as we approach the building.
“Wait,” she says, “where are we going?”
“Le Soleil is on the third floor,” I tell her.
“Of the Beehive?”
“Yep. You have to book a day in advance, and give your first and last names so security can check you out.” Grinning at the look on her face, I lead her into the building. “Hey, Ian,” I say to the guy on security.
“Good evening, Mr. Chevalier.” He smiles at Alice. “Good evening, Ms. Liddell.”
“Hello,” she says, blushing.
She places her handbag and I put my briefcase on the tray, and then Ian gestures for her to walk through the security scanner. I follow her. “All good,” he says, passing us our items, “have a great evening.”
“Thanks, Ian.” I pick up my briefcase, take her hand again, lead her across to the elevators, and press the button to call the car.
“You’re trying to wow me, aren’t you?” Her eyes are suspicious, although she’s smiling.
“I like good food,” I reply. “And it’s no fun eating out on your own. So I’m making the most of you being here.”
“Fair enough.” She curls her fingers around mine, and we go into the car as the doors open.
I press the button for the restaurant on floor three, and the doors close. As the elevator rises, I move her so her back is against the wall and slide my free hand to the back of her neck.
“Kip!” She glances around, blushing. “There are probably security cameras in here.”
“Don’t care.” I kiss her, marveling at the softness of her mouth. I sigh, which comes out as a low growl, and Alice moans in response, her tongue darting out to meet mine. Whoa, zero to sixty in, what, two seconds? Even faster than my Merc, which is saying something.
I release her as the doors part, and give her a warning look. “You’re bad for my blood pressure.”
“And you’ve wiped off all my lipstick.”
I take her hand and lead her out toward the restaurant. “We definitely need to keep our strength up.”
It’s not a huge restaurant, but it’s beautifully presented, with smaller round tables by the windows, and longer rectangular ones down the middle of the room for larger parties. The tables are covered with neat white tablecloths topped with small displays of fresh flowers, and the cutlery is all polished silver. The decor is dark, sophisticated, and intimate. A guy sitting at a grand piano is playingThe Nearness of You.
It’s relatively busy as it’s a Friday night, with about two-thirds of the tables occupied, mostly by people wearing suits, with a few of the women in cocktail dresses. Alice stands out in her white summer dress, like a wild daisy in a world of concrete and glass.
“Oh God, I’m wearing totally the wrong thing,” she says, pausing in the doorway.
“You look amazing,” I tell her. “I can’t wait for everyone to see you’re with me.”
She gives me a wry smile, but lets me lead her forward. We’re met by the restaurant manager, who welcomes us in and shows us to our table. As I requested, it’s the best one, in the corner by the window and therefore quiet and secluded, overlooking the flagpoles flying the New Zealand flag, and the neatly tended green. We sit at the round table in the comfortable suede-covered chairs, and the manager informs us that our waiter will be Wiremu, who’ll take our drinks order in a few minutes.
I open the wine menu and run my gaze down it. “Shall we have some champagne, or would you prefer a cocktail?” I look up at her. She’s looking around the room, her eyes like saucers.
“Are any of these MPs?” she whispers, gesturing at the other diners.
