He grins. “Tonight’s the Grand Opening. One of my colleagues in the history department scored reservations three months ago, but he and his wife have been out all week with that respiratory thing that’s going around. Lucky us, he gave the reservation to me.”
He holds his arm out, guiding me ahead of him as we step past the other people on our way to the doors. A pair of stylized, interlocking initials—a G and a C—gleam in hammered steel at the center of the polished glass.
My feet slow to a halt as I realize where we are. “This is Gavin Castille’s new restaurant.”
“Yes, it is.” Brandon beams at me, reaching for the door. “Don’t look so worried. I hear his food is outstanding, unlike some of the other celebrity chefs out there.”
It’s not the food that gives me pause. I know firsthand that the Australian chef creates culinary masterpieces. He also happens to be a close friend of Nick’s.
“Are you disappointed?” Brandon’s eager look turns confused, crestfallen. “Because if you’d rather go somewhere else—”
“No, of course not.” After all, there’s no reason I shouldn’t enjoy dinner at what’s clearly one of the hottest new places in the city. I’m not going to let thoughts of Nick dampen my evening with Brandon. Especially when he’s trying so hard to please me.
Some of my resolve fades as we enter the restaurant and I see Gavin personally greeting his Grand Opening patrons. Like the consummate host he is, the handsome Aussie with the easy smile and beachy blond mane of hair takes a moment to speak with each person as they arrive and report in at the host stand. There are two couples ahead of Brandon and me, but I don’t miss the brief flick of Gavin’s eyes in my direction.
He doesn’t seem surprised to see me without Nick, although I’m sure by now he’s well aware that his friend and I are no longer seeing each other. I cringe to think Gavin might also be aware of the reasons why. Had Nick confided in him about how he’d used me? God, had Gavin known all along what he’d done—even that night when he’d shown up and prepared a private gourmet dinner for us at Nick’s request?
My cheeks warm to recall it, particularly the dessert of strawberries and cream and chocolate sauce, all of which Nick served to me later that evening while I was blindfolded and undressed, my hands tied at my back with a long string of pearls.
When it’s our turn to meet Gavin, he gives me no reason to feel uncomfortable. In fact, he introduces himself as though it’s the first time he’s ever seen me. For my benefit or my date’s? I can’t be sure, but I’m grateful nonetheless.
He shakes Brandon’s hand, then clasps mine in a brief, warm grasp. “Good evening. Welcome to GC.”
“Thank you.” I hold his pale green gaze without saying anything more, and he shrewdly picks up on my awkwardness. I wonder if he shares it, because he spends only a moment with us before motioning one of the hostesses over to him.
“Shelly, please seat this young lady and the gentleman in the library room.”
Brandon holds up his hand in question. “Actually, I believe the reservation I have is for the gallery room.”
“You just got an upgrade, mate.” Gavin’s wink and broad, dimpled smile are pure charm. “I promise, you’ll love your table in the library even more.”
Brandon chuckles. “Well, in that case, thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Gavin says, his glance lingering on mine for just a second longer as a party of four excitedly comes up to meet him. He nods to me. “Enjoy your evening, both of you.”
The hostess holds two large, leather-covered menus in her arms. “This way, please.”
We walk behind her as she leads us through the bustling restaurant. The layout is unique, especially for Manhattan. Rather than a sleek or fussy open-concept fishbowl, Gavin’s new restaurant is comprised of cozy dining rooms with exposed brick, ru
g-covered plank-wood floors, white stucco walls and heavy beamed ceilings.
It’s intimate and elegant, yet warmly inviting. But there’s no question that it’s also the place to be and be seen, especially tonight. The restaurant is filled with important looking people, couples on Friday night dates as well as larger groups. In one crowded dining room, tables surround a pianist playing light chamber music on a gleaming baby grand. Front and center, I notice the city’s mayor, Don Holbrook, holding court with his wife at a table for six. I’ve never met the mayor, but nearly a year ago I attended one of his fundraising galas.
With Nick, of course.
I groan inwardly at the memory. Is there anywhere I can go in this city without being reminded of him at every turn?
Brandon gently takes my hand as the hostess escorts us further into the restaurant. “What do you think? Do you like it so far?”
I nod. “It’s wonderful, and the food smells amazing.”
“Only the best for my girl,” he says, giving my fingers a little squeeze.
We are shown to one of half a dozen tables situated in a romantic room lined with floor-to-ceiling polished cherry bookcases. Hundreds upon hundreds of antique books fill the beautiful shelves. Their supple leather spines and gold-leaf lettering twinkle in the low light from the sconces on the walls and the enormous chandelier that hangs down from an ornate ceiling medallion in the center of the room.
“Wow.” I can’t hold back my pleasure as I drink in every detail.
Brandon seems equally impressed. He grins at the hostess as she seats us and presents us with our menus. “Please let the chef know that I definitely approve of the seating change.”