Too Darn Hot Read Online Free PDF Page B

smoothly accepted the bottle and glanced at the label. “No problem. I’ll unscrew the cap and let it gasp awhile.”
    Lina buried her face in the menu, coughing delicately. She dared a glance at Bob over the top of it. He appeared to be in the eye-bulging, vein-throbbing, face-flushing stage of speechless indignation.
    She wished the speechless part could last.
    She smiled to herself. Eric had an imposing presence that the younger man could never hope to achieve, in or out of the courtroom. It was in the restaurateur’s carriage, in his voice, and yes, in the decade or so that he had on Bob. He’d earned those laugh lines and the sprinkling of gray hairs at his temple.
    “Lina, I’m glad you decided to give us another chance,” Eric said. “Surprised but glad.”
    While outwardly he was the essence of courteous charm, she detected more than a hint of derision in the cool glance that encompassed both her and Bob. He obviously thought this snotty, supercilious weasel was her date. As did the weasel himself.
    She seemed to be the only one who knew what was going on here. And if that was the case, then why didn’t she know what was going on here? Why did she even care what Eric thought?
    She offered the chef a cool smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
    Bob finally found his voice. “That bottle has a cork, dammit!”
    Eric looked a little too pleased with himself. “Enjoy your meal.” Bottle in hand, he disappeared into the kitchen.
    She sighed heavily and slapped the menu back down on the table.
    “That’s French wine!” Bob sputtered. “`Chteau’ something or other. It has a cork!” He was positively vibrating.
    A basket of fragrant rolls appeared on their table. Lina looked up and smiled at the blond youth. “Hi, Daniel.”
    “I’m Adam.”
    “Oh. Then you were the one washing dishes last week.”
    “Don’t remind me.”
    “I’m Lina. Is Joe back?” Lina tore off a small piece of a whole-grain roll and buttered it.
    “No way. Dad hired a new guy. And a new waitress, too.”
    “Sounds like he’s had a busy week.” She tasted the bread. It was perfect—warm, savory, redolent of sourdough.
    “Yeah, I guess. Had to get new vendors and repair some equipment. You know.”
    Did she ever. “Things are pretty much back to normal then?”
    “Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged and smiled shyly. “`Bye.” He moved on.
    “I hope you roast this place, Lina!” Bob hissed in a stage whisper that had heads turning all around them. “I want you to put this joint out of business!” Veins protruded in his scarlet neck.
    Lina put down her butter knife. She skewered her dining companion with The Look. “Bob, do you read my column?”
    A telling pause, then, “Sure.” He gave a short little laugh. “My aunt’s the executive food editor of that rag. Of course I read your column.”
    “What’s the last restaurant I `roasted’?”
    “Uh...I don’t remember the name.” He ripped a roll in two and thickly buttered one half. A canny look came into his eyes. “But I do remember the place sucked—you gave it only one star.”
    She leaned back and crossed her arms. “One star.”
    He took a huge bite and paused in midchew. “Uh...one little fork or whatever it is you give them. You know.” When this was met with frigid silence, he said, “One and a half forks?”
    “Bob, I don’t use stars, little forks, or any other qualifying symbols in my reviews.”
    “Then how do you rate the place?”
    “I don’t. I’m a reviewer, Bob, not a critic. There’s a difference. Restaurants should be described in detail, not rated on a scale of one to five.”
    “Hey, you could try little chef’s hats or, lemme see, water glasses. How about salt shakers?”
    Lina caught Betsy’s eye and waved the waitress over. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could lose Bob Flanagan, Esquire.

Chapter Four

    Eric blinked. She was back again. The third Saturday night in a row.
    He shook his head in amazement. With another