For 100 Reasons (100 3)

Her smile is placid. “He will be happy to hear it, I’m sure. Your server will be with you momentarily. Bon appétit.”

We aren’t left waiting long. Despite the full house, Gavin’s staff are prompt, polite, and effortlessly professional. Our waiter takes our drink order and another server brings fresh bread and seasoned oil. Others carry trays laden with cocktails, food, and sumptuous desserts, everyone moving in a symphony of polished grace and skill.

Brandon’s head swivels with each new culinary creation that passes by. “My word, did you see that rack of lamb? If the food is as good as it looks, we’re in for a real treat tonight.”

“Yes, we are,” I agree, taking a sip of my wine.

“You know, Castille’s got another place on the Upper East Side. Maybe we should go check that one out too.”

“Sure. I’d like that.” I nod as I break off a small piece of bread and dip it into the little plate of oil and herbs.

I’ve been to Gavin’s other restaurant before, although I doubt Brandon would care to hear about that any more than he’d want to know about any of my other experiences with Nick. God, what does it say about me that I can’t think of a single instance when I was able to resist that man? He had a way of turning every moment into something heated and dangerous, something too powerful to be denied.

Seeing him at the university gallery reception a few nights ago only drove that fact home with renewed clarity. As hard as I’ve tried to put our encounter out of my mind all week, there is a part of me that wonders what would have happened if I’d taken Nick up on his suggestion that we go somewhere to talk.

Not that I have to wonder.

Too many heated dreams in the nights since have filled in all of the blanks.

Brandon hails our waiter with a little wave of his hand. “Any chance I could get some butter for the bread?”

A perfunctory nod. “Of course, sir.”

“Thanks, appreciate it,” he says, then lowers his voice when we’re alone again. “You’d think a swanky place like this would know to bring butter to the table too.”

He’s not watching where his hand is, and as he reaches for the bread basket, the cuff of his sport coat catches on his long-stemmed wineglass. It tips before either of us can react, spilling merlot across the white table linens and onto my lap.

“Oh, no!” He pops out of his chair and starts to move toward me with his napkin in hand. “Avery, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I say, feeling more awkward about the stares we’re drawing than the accident itself. “Fortunately, my dress is a dark color. It’ll be fine.”

He frowns, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m such a clod. Let me help you—”

“No, it’s okay, really.” I stand up, the scent of wine clinging to me. “I, ah, I think I’ll go find the ladies’ room and clean up.”

He looks mortified, still fussing and apologizing as I extricate myself from our table to look for the restroom. The trek takes me deeper into the restaurant, the sounds of soft music and mingled conversations filtering out from all directions.

As I walk, I pass an intimate dining room sporting a carved limestone fireplace at one end and walls adorned with a variety of interesting art. Dozens of creative vignettes of framed paintings and striking photography. Cornice shelves showcasing unusual sculpture and rustic carvings that seem to be a celebration of art from all over the world.

The gallery room, obviously.

The art draws my gaze as I stroll by. If my thighs weren’t damp and the front of my dress reeking of spilled wine, I’d be tempted to slow down or even drift inside the room to take a closer look.

I’m not sure what pulls my attention away from the art and into one cozy corner of the room. But once I glance that way, I don’t see anything else.

It’s Nick. And he’s not alone.

The blonde woman seated across from him is beautiful, dazzling, in fact. She’s dressed in a low-backed dress and red-soled stilettos. Long, elegant fingers hold the stem of her wineglass as she leans forward, speaking animatedly to Nick, her adoring eyes riveted on him. He says something and she laughs, placing her hand over the top of his.

My breath seizes in my lungs.

No wonder Gavin made sure to seat Brandon and me in another room. He knew Nick was here too. With someone else. Someone whose regal appearance and easy grace exude old-money wealth and sophistication.

Someone who looks like she belongs in his world, much more than I ever could be, no matter how successful I’ve become in the time since we’ve been apart.

Is he using her too? Another acquisition to add to his long list of conquests? I’m sure I don’t want to know.

I glance away and keep walking, dreading the possibility that he might notice me too. Of course, he doesn’t. He’s too focused on the new woman across from him.