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as if he’d read Taylor’s mind—or noticed her death grip on her red leather clutch. “I made the reservations for you weeks ago when you told me you were going to Atlanta for the summer residency. I’d hoped to join you before I left town, but they didn’t have anything available before tonight. I know how much you enjoy Michael Wolf’s cooking show, so I figured you’d want to check out his restaurant while you’re in town. How was I supposed to know you once had a relationship with his cousin? A relationship that apparently ended badly, judging by the way you’ve been acting ever since you saw him.”
    When Taylor winced, Aidan was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to—”
    “It’s okay,” Taylor interrupted, keeping her voice low in case the cabbie was eavesdropping on their conversation. “It was very thoughtful of you to make reservations at Michael’s restaurant. I’ve always wanted to eat there, so I’m sure we’ll enjoy ourselves.”
    Concerned gray eyes searched her face. “If you’re worried about running into Manning again, I’m sure he has better things to do than hang out at his cousin’s restaurant every night.”
    Taylor forced a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”
    But Aidan’s assurance had done little to quell the anxiety knotting her stomach.
    Several moments later, the cab pulled up to a two-story brick-fronted restaurant perched at the corner of Peachtree and Fifth Street. A man posted at the entrance greeted a steady flow of patrons dressed for a night on the town.
    “Welcome to Wolf’s Soul,” the cabbie announced to Taylor and Aidan. “This is hands down the best restaurant in Atlanta—hell, the state of Georgia.”
    Aidan chuckled dryly. “Does Michael Wolf pay you to say that to tourists?”
    The cabbie grinned. “If he did, I’d never tell a soul.”
    Aidan laughed, handing over the cab fare. “Do you have any recommendations?”
    “Try the stuffed salmon. It’s second to none. But honestly, folks, you can’t go wrong with anything on the menu. Everything’s delicious.” The cabbie winked. “Tell Michael I sent you.”
    “Do you think he’s here?” Taylor asked nervously.
    “It’s Friday night. If he’s in town, he’s definitely here.”
    “Oh,” Taylor said weakly. “Great.”
    She and Aidan thanked the friendly driver, then climbed out of the cab.
    As they started up the flagstone walk toward the entrance to the restaurant, Aidan slipped an arm around Taylor’s waist and ran an admiring gaze over her. She wore a body-hugging white halter dress with red Christian Louboutin pumps. Her hair was brushed back from her face, the soft ends caressing the bare skin between her shoulder blades.
    Aidan smiled at her. “Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?”
    “You have,” Taylor said with a small smile, “but a girl can never receive too many compliments.” Especially a girl whose frumpy appearance had once made her the butt of cruel jokes and pranks.
    When she and Aidan stepped inside the packed restaurant, they were greeted warmly by the maître d’, who confirmed their reservations before escorting them to their table.
    As they followed him, Taylor admired the restaurant’s elegant décor. The dark wood of the interior would have made Sinatra feel right at home, a glass of bourbon in hand. Candles flickered invitingly on the glossy mahogany tables, and soft piano music wafted from a gleaming baby grand. The walls were adorned with framed photographs of Michael Wolf posing with famous actors, musicians, athletes and politicians who’d previously dined at Wolf’s Soul.
    Taylor and Aidan were shown to a cozy table in a private corner. Once they were seated, the maître d’ presented them with leather-bound menus and an extensive wine list, which they quietly reviewed until their waiter arrived to take their order.
    “I think I’ll go with our cabdriver’s recommendation and get the crab and mushroom