The Edge of Recall Read Online Free PDF

words that seemed literally caught in his throat.
    The waitress waited, pencil to her pad, then looked up. “Your usual?”
    He nodded. She jotted it down and left.
    Smith laid his napkin across his lap. “Now that you’ve realized what an exceptional opportunity I’ve landed, I—”
    “How did you land it anyway?” With his focus on commercial development, he didn’t seem the likely choice. Unless that had changed.
    “Through my father initially.”
    “The barrister?”
    “He’s a solicitor.”
    “Oh, that’s right. A gown but no wig.” He had explained the difference at length after she’d succumbed to giggles at the thought of an older Smith in a powdered wig.
    “Just a suit now that he’s practicing out of the New York office.”
    Smith’s dual citizenship by descent from a British dad and an American mother, his American birth and London rearing, had been confusing enough. “Now your dad’s an American too?”
    “No. It’s an international firm. He transferred several years ago when Mum had enough of London living.”
    “I see.”
    “Dad handled some legal affairs for the property owner, and when his client needed an architect he contacted me. The client liked what I did with the preliminary sketches, and here we are.”
    She understood referral. Most of her schedule she filled by word of mouth. And since Smith knew most of the world personally and had charmed at least half, he must have some pretty good word of mouth going for him. “I thought you were all about big professional complexes. Why this residential project?”
    “It’s an extensive residence. And impressing the owner here could lead to commercial opportunities.”
    “Who is the owner?” She lifted the teacup, breathing in the Earl Grey aroma that brought back the days when Smith’s British customs had charmed her.
    “A casino mogul and hotelier, Rumer Gaston.”
    “And Petra,” Bair interjected. “Don’t forget her.”
    His tone piqued her interest. “Petra?” She looked from one to the other.
    Smith nodded. “Petra Sorenson. Gaston’s fiancée.”
    “And a supermodel,” Bair added.
    “She must be beautiful.”
    “Stunning,” Bair said.
    “In an extreme sort of way.” Smith shot him a glance. “Gaston’s signing the checks, but Petra seems to be taking a personal interest.” He frowned. “It could get messy.”
    “Shouldn’t she be personally interested?”
    “As long as they’re in agreement.” Smith sipped his tea. “Gaston envisioned this project before he met Petra, and we’ve already hammered out his concept.”
    “But then he got engaged.”
    “And I’m not sure Petra’s taste runs along the same line.”
    “Better he find out now than build her a house she won’t want to live in.”
    Smith opened his mouth to argue, but the young waitress arrived with their food. Bair looked as though he wanted to jump up and help her with the tray, but thankfully stayed put. Tessa breathed the aroma of tangy vinaigrette dressing and the savory salmon on her salad.
    The girl set the toasted cheese before Smith and a sandwich at Bair’s place that was clearly pastrami with sauerkraut on rye. “Anything else?”
    “Mustard with that?” Smith asked Bair brightly.
    Bair nodded.
    “Here you go.” She produced a small jar of country style from her apron pocket.
    Smith said, “Thank you, Katy,” as she walked away.
    Tessa frowned at Bair’s plate. “I thought you liked the pesto chicken.”
    “I do.” He lifted the top bread. “But she recommended this once, and well, I haven’t the heart to disappoint her.”
    She caught the laugh before it came out. “You can’t think she expects you to have it every time.”
    “No. But she always asks before I can say otherwise.”
    Tessa turned to Smith. “You should say it for him.”
    “Place his order?”
    “No, but you could say something like ‘Was it the pesto chicken you were going to try, Bair?’ ”
    He looked at her with a blend of humor and