Dishing It Out. Molly O'Keefe
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“I’ll shut it down at one.”
“Ten.”
“Midnight.”
“Ten.”
“Fine, ten. On Wednesday. You can’t have Thursday.”
Which was exactly what she was going for. She grinned at him. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”
“So, that’s it, you’ll do it?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Not so simple, Van.” She shook her head at him and stood up. She found a notebook and a pen by the cash register and brought them back to the table where Van was looking at her warily.
“I learned something important today,” she told him as she flipped through her notebook and found an empty page. “Simon, despite saying he has my best interests at heart, is only looking after himself and ratings. Which—” she shrugged “—I can’t blame him for. So, I’ve got to take care of myself.”
“Should I have my lawyer here?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have my lawyer draw something up,” she said and meant it. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
“Marie?” She looked up, arrested for the moment by the sudden wild, vibrant energy that was pouring out of him. He was lit up and Marie felt her body reacting. Her heartbeat sped up and her skin flushed with blood. “Are you going to do the show?”
“With a few minor stipulations.” She nodded. “Yes. I am.”
“Well then, a toast…” He held up his wineglass.
“Let’s hold off on the celebrating.” Marie pushed his glass back down. “First things first, there will be no secret meetings. You and I will be present every time one or the other meets with Simon.”
Van cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You’re not very trusting, are you?” he asked.
“Oh, on the contrary, I’m probably trusting to a fault.”
He laughed. “Could have fooled…”
“Just not with men and business.” Again Marie felt the strange physical nature of his gaze, like he was touching her, lifting her hair, looking in her pockets to see what she was hiding.
“I’m trustworthy, Marie,” he told her seriously and Marie swallowed hard. It was her nature to believe him. It was her nature to believe everyone. But it simply didn’t pay to trust everyone.
She shrugged. “We’ll see.” She returned to her pad of paper and her lists of demands she believed would truly protect her from Van MacAllister.
THE RESTAURANT WAS CLOSED on Mondays and Marie, after going in to feed her sourdough starter and proof some of the other dough, refused to stay and work on the books. So she had called her sister, Anna, and now they were shopping. Usually Marie loved to shop. But not today.
It was her first day off in what seemed like months and the last thing she wanted to do was spend it looking at crib liners. But she hadn’t spent any quality time with her sister in what seemed like forever, and all Anna wanted to do was shop for the baby and eat. So that’s what they did.
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