She piled her bags between them and stayed near the door. “Where are we going?”
Right. This was work and not a date. Clearly last night had left a sour taste of loneliness in his mouth—he had to focus on the fact Natalie was a business associate and nothing more. Images of her removing the wig needed to stop replaying in his mind like a striptease as he drove down the street. “Le Provençal Restaurant. French food feels like home and I’ve had a long day.”
“I see.” She dug out her phone from a giant black purse and sent off a text. Galen drove the short distance to the restaurant, valet parked, and came around to open her passenger door. She slipped her phone in her bag and followed him.
“Sorry, girl squad texted. I just needed to tell my friend I was safe and fine for dinner.”
“Smart.” They entered the dimly lit restaurant and Galen told the hostess he wanted a table for two.
A waitress brought them to a quiet, romantic nook circled completely in pink roses. He held his tongue and reminded himself not to have a crush on Natalie. Just because she was beautiful, he shouldn’t want to touch her. He held her seat for her and she asked, “What happened that you need comfort food?”
Galen sat opposite her and ignored how her blonde hair glistened in the candlelight. Crystal goblets held ice water and he took a drink. “The clinic was part two of my day, to be honest.”
“There was more for you?” She sipped daintily from her glass and leaned closer, curious. “What happened first?”
He didn’t want to confess to her about Jennifer—but she hadn’t asked, specifically. Part of his conscience whispered he should tell her that he was a horrible choice in all capacities. He ordered a bottle of a decent ugni blanc and met Natalie’s gaze. “My brother Damien and his wife got married yesterday.”
She adjusted her cross around her neck, the gold flashing against the black fabric of her collar. “I remember. He wasn’t supposed to be at the office for a few weeks, so we were all surprised to see him this afternoon.”
He brought his chair closer to hers. “Well, this morning his new wife was kidnapped. I helped get her back.”
“Kidnapped.” She repeated in a high tone but settled down as the waitress poured them both a glass of dry white wine. Once the waitress left, Natalie said, “So that’s where you got that cut on your cheek?”
His finger brushed the rough scrape as he nodded. “There was a fight.” He shrugged, happy that it had all worked out in the end.
She picked up her wine glass. “Well, I’m glad you are all okay.”
She sounded to Galen as if she cared. “I probably shouldn’t have ordered wine for you, if you’re pregnant.”
Her fingers circled the wine glass like she needed to protect it from being stolen. She looked at the flickering candle flame. “I don’t want to think about that. And besides, my period ended two days ago. It’s a pretty low percentage as I’m not in the middle of my cycle or anything.”
This wasn’t a conversation he’d ever imagined having with Natalie, whom until this morning, he’d considered frumpy. They’d mostly talked about sharing the printer. Her fresh face and glowing skin now fascinated him—though knowing her fertility schedule was almost too much. Still, if she was pregnant then drinking was bad form. He pressed his lips together as she sipped rather than admonishing her—as she said, there was a very minute chance she was pregnant anyhow.
“So how did you end up at the doctor’s?”
He savored the dry white wine. “I was there with Peter, after I tipped him off about Jennifer’s plans.”
Her gaze narrowed. “How did you know about that?”
His collar felt hot and he looked down into the wine glass. “Jennifer and I had a small encounter at the wedding.”
Natalie pushed her hair behind her ear and nodded without judgment. “Ah well, she’s beautiful—her dress this morning was amazing. Did she wear white to a wedding where she wasn’t the bride?” Galen remembered the way Jennifer had turned getting dressed into a seduction. No, Natalie didn’t understand. Not really. He cleared his throat. “No, she changed her clothes.”
“Oh.” Natalie changed the subject and tapped the menu. “I’ve never really had French food. It’s not a regular option.”
Good. Their conversation about Jennifer was over. Galen shrugged. French cuisine always made him feel better. “I grew up in Paris and then settled in New Orleans for a while.”
Her lips parted as her eyes glazed over. “Paris must have been beautiful.”
From her far-away look, he’d guess she hadn’t traveled much. He reached across the table and gently patted her hand. “It was. Do you want me to make suggestions for what to order?”
“Sure.” She didn’t take her hand back and batted her pretty blue eyes his way in thanks.
His fingers buzzed from touching her, so he slipped his hand back and studied the menu. He glanced up and noticed the sparkling glow of her skin, though he knew he imagined it. He stared at the menu again. “And for the record, this restaurant isokaywith the food. In Paris, the choices are better.”
She nodded and rested her chin on her fingers. “I’ll remember that.”
He imagined showing her Paris but then smashed the idea—he was Natalie’s boss and needed to take charge of this awful situation. No woman had gotten to him in years, and he preferred his heart empty of commitment because it was safe. He read the dinner options and said, “I’d recommend the sautéed mushroom Provençal, salads are obvious and they make a pretty good coq au vin chicken here, and we can pair it with this bottle of wine.”
