“Well, don’t beat yourself up, Professor. The curls are just going to get you an extra dance and a kiss or two. Something sweet like that. Nothing too dirty.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She knew she shouldn’t think of this as a date. She should discourage dancing, and they definitely shouldn’t kiss. This was about finding a woman who he’d done that—and a hell of a lot more—with a few months ago. It seemed totally inappropriate to want this outing to end with Harper naked in his bed. His obvious casual approach to sex and “dating” was why they were in this situation.
“Of course, the legs and breasts are a whole other thing.”
She looked down. The dress had a low neckline, but it didn’t really show cleavage. It did hit midthigh, though. “What?”
He grinned. “It’s always the legs. Especially in those suit things.”
“Oh.” She felt a little warm. “I didn’t know that.”
“And your ass.” He checked out her skirt again.
This one flared slightly and would swirl if they danced. Not that they were going to dance.
“This one doesn’t show off your sweet ass as much as those sexy professor skirts do, but I do like your boobs in this. Your jackets cover those up.”
She swallowed hard.
“But the hair is the thing making me think you’re thinking of this differently.”
“I’m not,” she tried to protest.
“You did your hair for me, Professor.” His voice was low, and his smile was far too knowing.
She pressed her lips together. Yeah, she had. Dammit.
“Sorry.”
He looked puzzled and amused. “Don’t be sorry.”
“It makes this all the more complicated.”
“What does?”
“Us. Our feelings. Anything with… us.” She was very rarely at a loss for words, and this was a bad time to not be able to express herself clearly.
James shook his head. “I disagree. This. Us. Makes everything easier. You always make everything easier.”
“We might be meeting the baby’s mom tonight,” she said softly. She was hopeful that would be the case. She was also scared of it. Because that would introduce another woman into this situation. A woman who had every right to be there. It was selfish and wrong of her, but Harper didn’t really want that.
She wanted James and the baby to herself.
“We might be,” he agreed. Then he frowned. “And we’ll be getting some fucking answers from her.” He lifted a hand and cupped Harper’s face. “But that’s it. I mean, obviously, she’ll get to have as much to do with him as she wants, but she’s not moving in here. I’m not taking her on any dates. Nothing like that.”
Harper nodded. “Okay.”
This was all such a bad idea. She was getting way too involved in something she should be steering way clear of.
Instead, she lifted up on tiptoe and kissed his jaw. Then, with him too surprised to do anything else, she took his hand and started down the steps.
They walked the few blocks to the restaurant. They didn’t really talk. The busy sidewalks of the Quarter made it difficult, and it was also unnecessary. They both knew where they were headed and why. They didn’t have a plan, exactly. How did you plan for something like this? But they did hold hands the whole way.
“This is it,” James said as they stopped in front of the restaurant.
It was like so many others in the French Quarter. It had long, tall windows, many of which were open to the night air. The front doors of the building were also open, and a chalkboard sign sat on the sidewalk in front proclaiming the evening’s specialty was shrimp and spicy orzo. Gas lanterns hung on the outside bricks of the building, and clusters of people wove along the narrow sidewalks, pausing at the corner to let cars and the occasional carriage pass. Music from the streets floated on the air, spiced with cayenne and hickory, and laughter and conversation surrounded them.
The restaurant was busy. People stood around the bar, two deep, and all the tables were full. Harper took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”
James nodded and stepped back to let her go in first.
She stepped through the doorway. A woman at the hostess stand gave her a smile. “Hi. How many?”
“Two.”
“We’re here to talk to someone,” James said over Harper’s shoulder.
“Oh. A customer?” the hostess asked.
“An employee. A waitress,” James told her.
Harper put her elbow in his side. He didn’t need to be so assertive. She reached for James’s hand and pinched the back of it in a warning she hoped he’d understand.
“There’s a waitress that waited on us a few months ago when we were here,” she explained, using the story she’d thought up as they walked from the apartment. They couldn’t just barge in here demanding to see her. They couldn’t just walk in, smile, and say, “Hey, did you have a baby a couple of weeks ago?” either. “We’d love to sit in her section again, if possible.”
The hostess looked out over the bustling restaurant. “Who was it?”
Harper could see she was already dreading the idea of trying to get an open table in a specific portion of the restaurant. That was fine. Harper’s plan meant they didn’t even need to actually talk to the waitress.
“You know, I don’t remember her name.”
“Megan.”
Harper glanced up at James sharply. He was looking at her, not at the hostess.
“Her name was Megan.”
Of course he knew her name. Harper hadn’t asked. She also hadn’t told him they shouldn’t just ask for her right away. She had a plan, but it had just come to her, and she had hoped James would simply follow her lead. Clearly, he wasn’t that good at reading her yet.
“Is she here tonight?” Harper asked the hostess, with a forced smile.
“She is,” James said.
Harper sighed. He’d already seen her.
“Yeah, she is,” the hostess confirmed. “But I can’t tell you how long it might be. I have to take people in order on the list, so even if a table opens up in her section, I can’t seat you until everyone in front of you is seated.”
“We totally understand,” Harper said quickly. “We’re going to wait at the bar. Just do your best with the table. We’re not in a hurry.”
“Okay. If you’re sure,” the hostess said. Clearly, requests for specific waitresses were uncommon.
But this way, Harper’s plan could still work out. Without James actually seeing or speaking to the waitress. To Megan.
Harper grabbed James’s sleeve and pulled him toward the bar. She tucked them around the far end, away from the dining room, with at least fifty people between them and the middle of the room. She turned so that if James faced her, his back would be to the tables.
“What’s with the story about being in here before and having her wait on us?” James asked.
“We can’t just walk up to her and ask about the baby,” Harper said.
“Why not? If it’s her, then her reaction to seeing me will give her away.”
Harper had absolutely thought of that. “Yes, and that’s kind of unfair to do to her at work, in a public place full of people. Let’s not be so confrontational. There’s a reason that she didn’t knock on the door and hand him to you.”