“We’re talking about it. Caryn’s a tough negotiator. I can’t blame her, because Kendal is a great asset for you. I think, though, that she needs to work for a good law firm to reach her full potential. She’ll have better opportunities at our new firm than she ever had with our old one,” Tom explained.
“So, she’s going?” I asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
“I’ll miss her.”
I heard someone bound down the stairs; it had to be Tracy. She appeared with a big smile on her face.
“I wanted to see the look on your face,” she said and then looked up the stairs.
I followed her gaze, and my mouth dropped open when I took in the vision that came down the stairs. If you’d have asked me to guess who it was, I wouldn’t have in a million years. It was Melinda Kesh, the model I’d met in New York. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and raised an eyebrow. Tom nudged me to get my brain working again.
“Oh, hi,” I said.
She got a concerned look on her face.
“You’re not happy to see me?” she asked.
“No. I mean, yes, I am. It’s just that I never expected it to be you. I can’t even guess how Tracy knew who you are. I guess I’m in shock that you’d take time out to go out with me,” I said.
“So, this wasn’t a mistake?” she asked.
I stepped over to her and hugged her. When I let her go, I kissed the top of her head.
“Thank you. I was afraid he’d gone all ‘stupid boy’ on us,” Tracy said, obviously pleased with herself.
I looked at Tom and smiled. He’d been right: Melinda was hot. I’m not sure what all was said, but next thing I knew, Tracy was literally pushing us out the door on our date. Fritz opened the car door for us. As we got settled, he pulled away. I had no clue where we were going.
“How did all this happen?” I asked.
“You’re really okay that I’m here?” she asked.
“Yes … it’s just … the way we left things in New York, I never expected to see you again,” I admitted.
“I went back to my hotel and thought about it. Then when I watched that
“Sounds like you had to work for it, then,” I said with a smile.
“You have no idea. Tracy grilled me before she’d agree to help me get in touch with you. Did you know that none of them would give me your number? I’d lost my phone and your number. I couldn’t believe they’re so protective of you.”
“Everything I have points to Caryn, my business manager. We set that up when recruiting got bad. My parents now have an unlisted number to keep reporters and the like from calling at all hours. I’ll give you my cell number,” I said as I pulled out my phone.
“Send me a text,” she ordered.
I did, and she sent me one back to make sure I got hers.
“I thought about sending you a tweet, but I didn’t want my manager turning this into a media event,” she said.
“No such luck,” Fritz said from the front seat.
Great, I’d forgotten he was listening. Paparazzi were waiting outside the restaurant that I assumed was our destination. It was a new Italian place that was the ‘hot new spot,’ according to Brook, who knew these things. Melinda looked confused, I guess because there were only three of them. This wasn’t New York or LA.
“That’s a huge turnout for a place like this,” I clued her in.
“Should we just go for it?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said because I really wanted to try this place.
When we made it inside, you would have thought I was with Adrienne. The place was packed, with the lobby full of people waiting to be seated. When we stepped inside, the lobby became quiet, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea to the hostess stand. Standing behind it was Lydia, the girl from State who had gotten her revenge on Ken with me.
“Mr. Dawson, good evening. I see you have a reservation for two. Right this way,” she said.
We followed her to the entrance of the dining room. It was like the scene out of
I will give them a ten for the execution of the move because it was well choreographed. The net effect was to cause everyone to turn and stare at us. I was sure I was an afterthought when people got a look at Melinda. This was worse than when I went out with Halle and people figured out that she was Rita’s daughter. It wasn’t every day that a Victoria’s Secret model walked into a restaurant in a small Midwestern town.
I pulled out Melinda’s chair, and she sat with a dazed look on her face. I knew what she was thinking … WTF?! Lydia smiled at us.
“Mr. Dawson, I wanted to personally thank you for coming to our restaurant tonight. My father is the chef and owner. I help out on weekends,” she said.
“Lydia, my name is David.”
