After a wretched afternoon of moving the rest of her stuff out of her old apartment (Riley was right; it did reek of mildew), Emma couldn’t even think about being sociable.
But after a week of having a steady stream of ex-boyfriends coming in and out of Camille’s place, neither could she quite stomach the idea of being cooped up in the apartment.
So Emma did what any self-assured, single woman would do with a free Saturday night in Manhattan. She took herself out to dinner.
“Just one,” she said to the smiling hostess at Cafe Luxembourg, the bustling and ever-popular French bistro on Seventieth and Amsterdam.
“Sure thing,” the hostess said, not missing a beat. “It’ll probably be about thirty minutes for a table without a reservation, but there are a couple of spots open at the bar.”
“Bar is perfect,” Emma said, hanging her coat on the rack by the door.
A minute later, Emma was settling down with the menu and the wine list when her perfect evening skidded to a halt.
On the other end of the bar was Alex Cassidy.
Who was with a woman.
Emma glanced down and seriously considered leaving, although she immediately scolded herself for the thought. Since when had she let Alex Cassidy’s presence interfere with her life?
And since when had she cared that he was seeing someone?
Her eyes flicked back to them again. She could see only Cassidy’s profile, and he was mostly turned away from her, but the woman he was with was mostly facing Emma.
She was pretty, in a wide-eyed, earnest kind of way. Her brown hair was shoulder length and wavy, her eyes round and friendly. She wore an oversized boatneck navy sweater that was both stylish and comfortable looking. There was nothing bimbo about her. Nothing that Emma could possibly criticize. Heck, she looked like someone that Emma herself would be friends with.
“Good evening,” the bartender said, capturing Emma’s attention. “Sorry for the wait; it’s always crazy on weekends. I’ll get you some water—did you need some more time with the wine list?”
“Actually, I’m looking for a recommendation,” Emma said, trying to ignore Alex and his new woman altogether. “I’m in the mood for a white, something sort of crisp but not too tart, and I’m not familiar with any of your by-the-glass pours.”
The bartender leaned forward, glancing down at the list as she thought. “Let me get you a sample of the Albariño,” she said. “It’s Spanish, and one of my favorites.”
She poured Emma a small taste, which she sipped and loved. “Perfect.”
“Anything to eat?” the bartender asked as she poured Emma a full glass.
“Eventually, yes. Haven’t gotten to the food menu yet.”
“Take your time,” the bartender said, putting the cork back in the bottle. “I’m Jana if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Emma said, returning the smile.
As Jana went to help another customer, Emma let her gaze dart back toward Cassidy and his date. They were gone, and Emma told herself she was relieved. Relieved he hadn’t noticed her. Relieved she wouldn’t have to watch him put the moves on another woman.
But then she started thinking about where they might be headed now, and was anything but relieved. Would he take the woman back to his place?
Would he go to hers for a “nightcap”?
Would they . . .
“The hamburger is amazing here.”
Emma jumped and spun around to see Cassidy standing behind her. He was wearing a dark suit, minus the tie, and his white shirt was unbuttoned just enough so she could see the hollow of his throat. Her gaze lingered at that spot for way too long, remembering what it had tasted like.
“The hamburger?” she repeated dumbly. Where was his date?
“With cheese. And fries, of course. Trust me, it’s worth every fat gram.”
Emma nodded, her eyes scanning behind him for Miss Big Green Eyes.