I took the card and studied it.
Preston cleared his throat. “And if I wanted to call you . . .”
He waited for me to give him my number, but I couldn’t. Whatever was happening between us needed to be squashed more than a buzzing fly in a bakery. If I gave him my number I knew he’d use it—and if he called me and asked me out again, I feared I wouldn’t have had the strength to turn him down again.
“Preston,” someone shouted from down the hall. I turned to see a news anchor and camera crew approaching. “I’m so happy I found you. They told me you’d be somewhere else.”
“Hello, Dana.” Preston smiled in greeting, but I could tell it was his public persona now, and not the man who had been looking at me. “I didn’t know the press would be coming today.”
“Well.” Dana attached a mic to her ivory suit jacket. “You’re big news right now, Mr. Fitzgerald. And I don’t want to miss a minute of your rise to the White House.”
Dana’s companions got to work, attaching a mic to Preston’s shirt and setting up a camera on a tripod.
I took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to quietly duck behind the other approaching reporters. I only made it a few steps before Preston turned and quickly grabbed my arm, leaning to whisper in my ear. “It was having you run into me again, Miss Moretti.”
I felt my cheeks heat and I kept walking, not once looking back.
Chapter 6
“Pull over right here.”
“Hmm?” Jimmy asked.
I sat in the back for appearances. I wished that I hadn’t. I wanted to turn the radio off so I could hear myself think.
“Pull over,” I said, louder this time. “I don’t want to be dropped off at the door.”
“As your bodyguard—not your boyfriend”—he looked at me pointedly—“I can’t have you walking alone at night. It isn’t safe.”
I wanted to reach over and punch him in the arm. The only thing stopping me was that I was in the car that he was driving.
“It’s a block, Jimmy. Just do it. I’ll be fine. I’m your boss, and I want you to pull over.”
“Wrong.” He kept driving, the restaurant now in sight. “Bruno is my boss. And I’m way more scared of him than I am of you.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised by Jimmy’s change. I knew it would be hard for him to see me going on a date with someone else. Until the arrangement with Cal, he didn’t have to share me with anyone. But we’d already talked about things and I thought he understood now that this was an arrangement made by my father.
“Stop, damnit! I’m walking myself inside.”
I shoved open the car door and stomped my sleek nude heels on the cement.
“You’re welcome!” Jimmy shouted as I slammed the door. He pulled away from the curb so quickly he missed side-swiping a taxi by a hair and elicited a honk and a rude gesture in the process.
“Tessa?” When I turned around, Cal was standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. I was early, but he was earlier. I should’ve known. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. That was”—I shook my head—“that was nothing.” I smoothed out the black lace overlay on my beige dress and then stepped away from the curb to close the distance between us.
“You look beautiful.” Cal smiled and then brought my hand to his lips. He placed a feather-light kiss on my knuckles.
I fought the need to roll my eyes. That move was almost always cheesy in my opinion, with very few exceptions. That instance wasn’t one of them. But it was a good thing I managed to keep my expression pleasant because a camera flashed as Cal held my hand.
The busy sidewalk wasn’t just crowded with other patrons of the famous establishment. We’d already attracted the attention of some of the paparazzi who made a living out of hanging around outside swanky restaurants in the city.
“Thank you.” I smiled and softened my stance, hoping to convey I was attracted to Cal. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He did look handsome; his hazel eyes twinkling in the streetlights. He was wearing a custom-tailored three-piece suit. I had been hoping for something slightly more casual. More human. I felt like I was underdressed standing next to him.
Cal gave me a warm smile and adjusted the American flag pin on his lapel. “Have you been here before? I wanted to pick a place I thought you’d enjoy.”
I rubbed my exposed arms. There was an unexpected chill in the night that blew between the buildings and pushed into the streets. “I’ve never been here before but I’m excited to try it.”
A few more camera flashes went off as we chatted.
“You’re cold. Let’s get you inside.”
Cal placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me through the door to the restaurant as more pops of light went off all around us.
After the flashes outside, the light inside was soft and it glimmered down from crystal chandeliers suspended low from the high ceiling. Ornate orange and pink floral arrangements decorated each table and sat on top of heavy white linen tablecloths. The Bronze Room was one of those restaurants where each table setting boasted more silverware than the flatware department of Bloomingdale’s.
“I’m sorry I kept you standing on the sidewalk so long, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to be photographed.”
“I understand,” I said. My words were polite, but inside I felt a little offended.
“Mr. James. Miss Moretti.” A small bald man suddenly appeared in front of us. I assumed he was the maître d. “We are delighted to be hosting you tonight. I’ve personally seen to all your requests and if you follow me, I will take you to your table.”
Cal gestured for me to walk in front of him and I nodded my thanks.
We walked across the main dining room and passed through a gossamer curtain that led to a much smaller back room.
“You’ll have plenty of privacy back here.”
The backroom had enough space to accommodate four small tables, but only one was set for dinner. There was a simple, delicate vase on the table with a single rose and beautiful exposed brick walls. It was the complete opposite from the stuffy and upscale main room. This was charming and cozy. Inviting.
I grasped the back of the chair, but before I could pull it out from under the table, Cal stopped me.
“Let me get that for you.”
I paused and allowed him to be the gentleman he so clearly wanted to be. Cal settled in across from me and placed his napkin in his lap. I did the same.
“May I start you off with a drink?” the maître d asked as he looked at me.
“Yes, I’ll haveāø»”
“The lady will have a Grey Goose vodka cranberry, and I’ll have a Blanton’s bourbon, neat.”
I looked at Cal in complete awe. That was what I was going to order anyway, but I had no idea how he would know that.
“Right away, sir.”
“Thank you.” Cal slipped a bill into the man’s palm before he disappeared back out the thin curtain.
“So.” I nudged the handle of my knife with my knuckle. “How’d you know what drink I was going to order?”