God! She had a date with Colin Forsythe. How on earth did that happen? Daisy replayed the scene over in her mind while nodding absently as Gloria gave her typical monologue, assessing the decor of the restaurant—hazards of being an interior designer and stager.
“Are you listening?” Gloria asked.
“Yep.”
“Why are your eyes closed?”
Daisy’s eyes popped open. “Sorry. Go on. You were saying something about paisley.”
Once Gloria started in on the upholstery again, Daisy went back to her daydream. She remembered Colin checking his watch and swearing under his breath because it was later than he’d thought. When she went to shake his hand goodbye, he held hers instead of shaking it.
What are you doing Saturday? Even after replaying that line a bajillion times in her head, Daisy still felt a weird somersault-y thing in her stomach.
When she told him she was going to the Celebrity Hors d’oeuvres Gala, he’d taken her hand, turned it over, kissed the back of her knuckles and asked her if she would do him the honor of accompanying him to the Gala, as he was going, as well.
Seriously.
It was like something out of one of the historical-romance novels she absolutely adored. Sure, he was only playing at being chivalrous, but it had worked. Holy Hannah, had it worked. Even now parts of Daisy’s anatomy came alive, parts that had been dormant for too long.
“Why are you smiling?” Gloria asked.
“I’m happy. That’s all.” Daisy took a sip of her cosmopolitan, hoping to cover up her giddiness and the fact that she hadn’t been listening to her friend.
Thankfully the server appeared with their food, giving Daisy an excuse to focus on something other than Colin Forsythe and her friend’s much too perceptive appraisal of her strange behavior. She’d spill everything to Gloria after the date.
“Your duck looks delicious,” Gloria said, pulling out her cell phone and taking a picture. Then she snapped a few of her own dish.
“What are you doing?”
“Instagram, baby.” Gloria showed her the pictures—pretty amazing quality for a cell phone. “People love pictures of food almost as much as they love the real thing.”
“Not me. It’s the real thing or nothing.” Now that Daisy was off the diet wagon, she cheerfully sliced into her candied breast of duck with a garlic-caramel sauce. Placing the food in her mouth, she sat for a minute, savoring the sweet, tender meat.
“What do you think?”
“Mmm.” Daisy raised her cloth napkin to her lips. “The French know how to cook.”
She took another bite of the duck and then followed it with a forkful of risotto. “Oh, my God!” She covered her mouth in ecstasy. “I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven. I’m sure I taste lavender in this and maybe... Gloria? Are you okay?”
Her best friend seemed more interested in a table across the restaurant than in her.
“What is it?”
Gloria half stood to get a better look at whatever it was that had caught her attention. “Isn’t that him?”
“Who?” Daisy turned to look where her friend was trying to point inconspicuously with her chin.
Across the room, a man sat alone at his table, eyes closed, a pencil poised in his hand, wearing an expression that was so serious it bordered on comical. He’d had his hair cut, but there was no mistaking him.
Colin.
Daisy couldn’t swallow. She took a gulp of water to wash the risotto down and then stared. A moment later, as if he could feel her gaze, he opened his eyes and stared right back. Daisy smiled. Then she blushed. Or, she blushed, then smiled. It was hard to tell which came first.
Colin looked away.
“That’s him, isn’t it? Colin Forsythe?” Gloria whispered.
“Yes.”
“Have you thanked him for the review?”
“No, I...” She’d wanted to. In fact, she’d gone as far as picking up the phone two or three hundred times for just that purpose. But every time she did, she’d put it right back down, not wanting to seem too eager, wanting to wait until Saturday to thank him.
“Go thank him.”
Of course she should thank him. It only made sense. But for some reason, the risotto she’d swallowed felt like jumping beans in her belly, and her hands had gone cold while her cheeks were about to spontaneously combust. She was being silly. He was just a man, and she was just a woman—a woman he’d already seen in her undies. No big deal.
Yeah, right.
With a deep breath, Daisy straightened her shoulders, folded her napkin and strolled up to Colin’s table, trying to ignore the swarm of bees swirling around in her belly. She was anxious to blurt out her thanks the moment she reached his side but stopped herself when she realized he was still eating with his eyes closed. Actually, eating didn’t accurately describe what he was doing. He seemed to be rolling the food around in his mouth, letting every single one of his taste buds have a go at whatever was there. He was making noises, too, although her cinnamon buns had elicited a good deal more enthusiasm. The memory of Colin sitting at her kitchen counter and grunting over her buns made her skin sizzle.
Quietly she slipped into the chair beside him and waited, breathing in the smell of his cologne. Funny, it was different than the scent he’d worn the other day. This one was nice, but she preferred the other. Then she forgot all about his cologne and her nervousness as she observed the expressions he made—from curious to puzzled to...pained? Wow, he took his job seriously, that was for sure. When Colin blurted something out loud, Daisy could barely contain her laughter. It took a rare individual to sit alone in a crowded restaurant with his eyes closed, muttering away to his heart’s content. People had been committed for less.
“It’s saffron.”
Colin’s eyes flew wide open, looking completely startled by her presence. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“You were wondering what was in the cream sauce and I said saffron.” She grinned.
“How exactly did you know what I was thinking?”
Daisy leaned forward and whispered, “Because you were thinking out loud.”
“I see.”
“You know, all you have to do is read the menu and you’d know what was in there. See?” She slid a menu across the table and pointed to the description of the halibut.
Colin snatched the menu from her and closed it firmly before setting it on the corner of the table farthest from her. “Thank you, but I prefer to let the ingredients speak for themselves. Reading the menu creates bias.”
Taken aback by his tone, Daisy blinked and then smiled. “You know, I do exactly the same thing.”
“Is that right?” He gave an impatient sigh. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get back to work.”
Daisy stared. What was wrong with him? Where was the banter? The sexual innuendo? He was all serious and curt and uptight tonight.
“Is there something else I can do for you?” he asked in a tone that could only be described as haughty.
“I just wanted to thank you,” she said slowly.
“Thank me?”
“For