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“Was he rude to you? He can be a little arrogant sometimes, but he usually goes out of his way to be charming to guests at the restaurant.”
Alittlearrogant? Try conceited and overbearing. Remembering the need to keep her identity concealed, she forced herself to shrug.
“Maybe it was just a bad night. That’s why I decided to try again.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. The food is really good.” Alison patted her stomach, then laughed. “Of course right now everything tastes good. A little too good.”
“No morning sickness?”
“Not a bit. Flora says it’s because the troll half of my baby is always hungry. I’m not quite sure if she’s kidding.”
“If the baby is going to grow up to be Will’s size, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
Alison shuddered. “As long as he doesn’t have a major growth spurt until after he’s born.”
“He? You’re having a boy?”
“We decided not to find out so I don’t really know. Today he feels like a boy.”
Wendy laughed, pulled on her hat and gloves, and wished Alison a good night before heading out. Even though the air was cold enough to make her pull her cape tighter around her shoulders, it was a beautiful night for a walk. The newly fallen snow was crisp and powdery, crunching beneath her feet. A full moon hung heavy and bright in the sky, and the stark contrast between the moonlit snow and the inky darkness of the trees made the street look like an antique woodcut. Even the flicker of old-fashioned gas street lights only added to the atmosphere.
The large bungalow housing the restaurant was as attractive as she remembered, with white lights wrapped around the porch columns and a tasteful wreath hung in each window. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the door, immediately aware of warmth and the delicious scent of food and… him.
Damian was standing at the host stand and he too was just as attractive as she remembered. Even more so, if she were honest. Thick shoulder-length dark hair surrounded a pale, far-too-handsome face. The white silk shirt with flowing sleeves would have looked ridiculous on anyone else; on him it appeared perfectly natural. A deep aubergine vest had subtle hints of goldembroidery and tight black pants were tucked into knee-high back boots. Very tight pants that clung to thickly muscled thighs and cupped what had to be an oversized bulge between his legs.
What the hell is wrong with me?She wasn’t the type of woman who ogled a man’s package. She snatched her gaze away, sure that her cheeks were turning pink, and managed to give him a polite smile.
“I’m Wendy Langdon. I have a reservation for tonight.”
“Indeed.”
He came to join her, dark eyes gleaming, then shocked her by taking her hand and bending over it. Cool lips brushed the back of her hand, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine, but she quickly pulled her hand away. He looked oddly surprised before he gestured at her wrap.
“May I take your cape?”
Despite an odd reluctance to remove the protective covering, she nodded and handed it to him. He took it, but his eyes were riveted to the expanse of bare neck and shoulder revealed by the dress, and red sparks burned in that dark gaze. She’d pulled her hair back into a low knot and she suddenly wished she’d left it loose.
Despite the heated gaze, he only added her cape to the closet beneath the stairs before motioning along the hallway.
“This way, please.”
She preceded him down the hallway, and cool fingers touched very lightly against her back to guide her into the second dining room, another shock of awareness radiating out from that brief contact. He seated her at the exact same table where she sat thelast time. Was it a coincidence? He’d yet to show any signs of recognizing her.
He pulled back her chair with a courteous bow and seated her. For a moment those heated eyes rested on her neck again, then he handed her a menu and left. It was still early—the only other occupants of the dining room were a couple seated at the two-top on the other side of the fireplace. The big werewolf only had eyes for his pretty pink-haired date, and she couldn’t help a slight pang of envy.
How long had it been since she’d even been on a date? Her transitory existence made it difficult to connect with anyone long enough to even begin a relationship.Even with a werewolf, she thought with a smile.Or a vampire.
Pushing that thought aside, she took a quick professional survey of the room. The buttery gold of the walls accentuated the richness of the cherry wainscotting and wrapped the room in warmth. The linens were crisply ironed, and the crystal glassware sparkled. The evergreen garlands interspersed with tiny white lights draped across the mantel and above the windows were a tasteful nod to the season.
Unlike before, the floral arrangement on her table was perfect—a single white rose floating in an elegant crystal bowl. Smoke was going up the chimney instead of blowing in her face, and her napkin was a pristine white. Perhaps it really had just been a bad night during her previous visit. She found herself hoping she’d be able to post a much more positive review this time.
Picking up the handwritten menu, she inspected the choices. As before, there were only two choices for each course and hopefully all of them would not only be available, but executed perfectly. A friendly pixie quickly arrived to take her order andbrought her a glass of champagne, followed by a perfect amuse bouche—a mother of pearl spoon containing a tiny cone of smoked salmon filled with creme fraiche and topped with caviar and dill. Excellent.
The appetizer she’d selected—bruschetta topped with white beans and octopus—also looked delicious, but then she took a bite. Instead of a savory vinaigrette, the beans had been mixed with a horrifically sweet dressing. How could anyone have made such a culinary misstep? For an appalled moment she wondered if the owner had deliberately sent out the horrible dish to punish her, but then she noticed that the woman at the other table looked equally disgusted although her date devoured the entire appetizer in two quick bites.
As much as the inconsistency shocked her, she wasn’t going to wait around for another assault on her taste buds. Tucking enough cash to cover the bill and the tip next to her plate, she rose and headed for the door. As she reached the hallway, the swinging door to the kitchen opened enough for her to hear an outraged voice.
“Who the fuck sent it back? My food is perfect.”
