Third Time's a Charm (17 page)

The woman scratched a notation on a seating chart on the illuminated stand, picked up two menus, and smiled at them. “Right this way.”

Tori paid covert attention to the customers as she followed the hostess through the main dining room to a second room beyond a well-stocked bar. Most of the diners were well dressed, the men in business clothes and the ladies in dresses or suits. She passed one table and noticed a woman wearing a ring with a diamond nearly as big as a piece of ice in the glass she lifted. A few were casually dressed, so Ryan shouldn’t feel out of place.

They were given a corner table in the second dining room, which was as elegantly apportioned as the first. Most of the other tables were full of customers who spoke in low voices. At a table in the opposite corner, a lone woman wearing a black blouse and skirt leaned over a thick stack of papers, writing. As Tori watched, she raised her head and picked up a coffee cup, her eyes moving as she swept the room above the rim. The manager, maybe?

Tori lowered herself into the chair Ryan held for her and took the menu from the hostess.

“Your server will be with you in a moment.”

The woman disappeared, and Tori leaned across the table to whisper at Ryan. “I thought this place would be deserted by now.”

“Me too.” He matched her tone. “I think I saw Stuart Saeland back there.”

“The U.K. basketball player?” Tori twisted toward the doorway. “Where?”

“In the other room. He was the small giant sitting against the left wall.” Ryan grinned. “Want me to get his autograph for you?”

She giggled and settled back in her chair. “No, that’s okay. But Eric would probably pay good money for it.”

“My brother would too.” He opened the menu, and his eyes moved as he glanced down the list of items.

She saw his throat convulse with a quick, nervous-looking gulp. Apparently Ryan didn’t go for fine dining often.

The waiter arrived at that moment to fill their water glasses. When they both declined anything else to drink, he left, promising to return for their order in a moment.

Tori opened her menu and noted the variety of the dishes with an analytical eye. What could she find here to help her craft a unique brand for Maguire’s? The menu listed a few chicken entrees, a couple of fish selections, but as she remembered, the specialty of the house seemed to be steak with signature sauces. The only other time she’d been here, she’d had sirloin with mushroom merlot reduction that was almost fork tender. Even the memory made her mouth water.

She glanced at the prices and experienced a flash of guilt. This was definitely not the cheapest place in town. Could Ryan afford it? She’d basically forced him to bring her here, and she hadn’t even considered the impact of a high-priced restaurant on the budget of a hardware store clerk who was paying for college tuition. Maybe she ought to offer to pay for her own, since it counted as research and she could put it on her expense report. But how to suggest that without implying she didn’t think he could afford this place? She didn’t want to offend him. Better just to order something inexpensive.

He looked at her over the top of the menu. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t usually like to eat much this late.”

A grin curved his lips. “Except for the occasional super-size order of fries?”

She returned his smile. “Except for those.”

The waiter returned, and set a basket of bread on the table between them. “Would you like an appetizer before you begin?”

“Not for me,” Tori said.

Ryan shook his head. “Me either.”

The waiter clasped his hands behind his back. “Have you decided on your order, or shall I give you a few more minutes?”

Tori glanced at her menu. The least expensive entree listed was chicken breast in Madeira wine sauce for twenty-two dollars. “I’m not really very hungry.” She hoped the rumble in her stomach wouldn’t make a liar out of her. “I think I’ll have a garden salad with Italian dressing, and a bowl of French onion soup.” The two added up to sixteen dollars, surely not much more than an entrée at deSha’s, where Ryan had been planning to take her.

Ryan’s grip on his menu relaxed. “I’ll have the same, but with Ranch on the salad.”

To his credit, the waiter’s pleasant expression didn’t change, though surely he was doing a quick mental calculation of his tip potential based on the total ticket price. “I’ll bring that right out.”

When he retreated toward the kitchen, Tori peeled back the white napkin covering the bread basket. The yeasty aroma that wisped into the air made her mouth water. She placed a thick slice on her bread plate and then tilted the basket toward Ryan.

“So,” he said as he selected a piece, “tell me about your project. You’re developing a plan to address the four P’s, right?”

Tori paused in the act of tearing off a bite-sized piece of bread. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” He spread butter on his bread. “The marketing process. Product, Price, Place, and Promotion.”

“I know what the four P’s are,” she told him. “I’m just surprised you do.”

He set his knife on the edge of his plate. “I took Principles of Marketing last year. But all I have is textbook knowledge. No practical experience.”

Wow. The plumber, as Mitch called him, was full of surprises tonight. First he showed up with her favorite flowers. Then she found out he was attending college and paying for it as he went along. And now this. Impressed, Tori almost forgot to enjoy the soft, flavorful bread as she chewed.

She took a sip from her water glass. “Well, the Product, Price, and Place are already set, so my plan will focus on Promotion. I’ve got to come up with some ideas for a killer ad campaign, including branding and everything.”

“So you need to study the customer demographics.” He glanced around the room. “Not really a family-friendly place. Looks like a fairly well-off crowd. I wonder what the lunch crowd is like.”

Tori followed his glance. He was right about the restaurant not being popular with families, at least at this time of night. There wasn’t a single child in the place. “I’d be willing to bet they do a lot of business lunches. It’s right off New Circle Road and only a few miles from downtown, so easy access from any business location.”

Their salads arrived, with the promise of soup to come. When the waiter left, Ryan said, “Where’s the new location?”

Tori picked up a gleaming silver fork and speared a crisp lettuce leaf. “Winston Street off South Limestone.”

Ryan paused with his fork in front of his mouth, his brows arched. “On U.K.’s campus?” He sounded skeptical.

“Not right on campus, but nearby.” Tori looked around the room. Ryan was right to look skeptical. The college crowd would feel totally out of place here. Not to mention the fact that most of them couldn’t afford to walk through the front door. “I’m planning to go down there and check it out later this week, as soon as I get some breathing room.”

The salad was excellent, with a blend of lettuces and just the right amount of vegetables. Tori sliced into a cherry tomato. Enough about her job, which she’d rather forget for a while. “Tell me about growing up on a farm.”

“I still can’t believe you have never been on one.” He shook his head, laughter coloring his words. “You really are a city girl.”

She gave him a wry look. “Danville can hardly be considered a major metropolitan center of culture.”

He cocked his head, a grin lighting his eyes. “It is to someone from Junction City.”

“I suppose that’s true.” She chuckled, then assumed a superior tone. “But I have actually been on a farm, I’ll have you know.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “I was in third grade, and my class took a field trip to the Double Stink Pig Farm.”

He tossed his fork on his plate and sat back in the chair, laughing. “That is not a farm.”

“It is too,” she said, indignant. “We each got to pick a pumpkin in this huge field, and they had a petting zoo with camels and sheep and even some kangaroos.”

“Well, we don’t raise camels or kangaroos on our farm. But we do have hogs.” His lips twitched behind the rim of his glass. “Chickens and cows too. And lots of corn and tobacco.” After he’d gulped a long drink of water, he set the glass down. “I’ll show it to you sometime, if you want to see what a real farm is like.”

Tori smiled and gave a noncommittal nod, focusing on her salad plate while trying to study him without looking at him. Was there something more behind that invitation than a chance to see a bunch of pigs? Like, maybe, an introduction to his family? Well, he was a nice guy and all, but she wasn’t at all ready for that. Besides, she’d already met part of his family and been baptized with coffee in the process.

She was relieved when the waiter appeared with their soup. After he’d placed a bubbly, cheese-covered crock in front of each of them and left, Ryan changed the subject.

“So, how’s the clean-up project at your grandmother’s house going?”

“We’ve barely begun.” Tori wrinkled her nose. “But it’s a dirty job.” An apt description for the process of trudging through an ugly past. Hopefully he would think she referred to the dust in Gram’s attic.

“Your grandmother has lived in that house a long time, hasn’t she?”

Tori nodded. “She and my grandpa built it, the first house on that street. It’s really the only home I’ve ever known.”

His voice grew soft. “It must be tough going through all those things from your past and deciding which to keep and which to give away.”

A lump formed in her throat and threatened to choke her. “Not only that, but you know what I found Sunday afternoon?” She snapped her mouth shut. Why did she say that? She didn’t intend to lay out her family’s sordid history for Ryan’s inspection.

“What did you find?”

His spoon poised over his own crock as he waited for her to take a spoonful of steaming soup and then wash it down with water.

“Oh, just a bunch of my father’s things.” She tried to make it sound casual, like it was no big deal. But her voice sounded tight, like air squeezed out through a balloon’s narrow opening.

Understanding dawned on his face. “The box in your trunk?” He paused, then explained his guess. “I thought you looked troubled when you saw it.”

Mom always said she wore her heart on her face. With halting words, Tori told Ryan about the shoebox full of photographs that she hadn’t been able to even take out of her trunk yet, much less open and look at. He listened without interrupting, his face such a mask of sympathy that she didn’t stop there, but went on to detail what she’d discovered about her father from Mom.

“Wow. It’s hard to believe a man could just walk away from his family like that.” She must have looked startled, because he immediately covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

“No, that’s okay.” She smiled to reassure him, trying to ignore the warmth from his palm as it rested on the back of her hand. “I’ve thought the same thing for fifteen years.”

The waiter approached, and Ryan withdrew his hand. Tori placed hers in her lap where it lay, tingling faintly. When they’d both declined dessert, the man set a leather folder on the table and withdrew to a discreet distance. Tori folded her napkin as Ryan placed enough cash in the folder to cover the check and tip, and then they left the restaurant. She gave the place a final scrutinizing examination as she headed for the door, trying to soak in the ambiance. As soon as she got home she’d record her thoughts while they were still fresh. Her notes would come in handy when she started working on the branding ideas.

They chatted about nothing in particular on the drive downtown, and in a few minutes Ryan pulled into the parking garage beneath her building. He parked next to her car and climbed out. Tori waited for him to circle around to open her door. They’d come to the time of the date that caused her hands to sweat and her stomach to knot with nerves. Would he kiss her? What would she do if he did? All the reasons she’d listed to Allie for avoiding a romantic relationship with Ryan Adams still existed. And yet, she’d had a nice time with him this evening. No use denying he was an attractive man. So maybe if he tried to kiss her . . .

He opened her door and extended a hand to assist her out of the car. The firmness in his arm as he steadied her reminded her again of a lumberjack. There was something wholesome and outdoorsy about his strength. Tori’s fingers felt small and dainty in his.

He released her the moment she stood steady on her sandals. Biting back a sigh, Tori pushed the Unlock button on her car’s remote and waited for him to open it for her. The traffic noise from outside filtered into the empty parking garage.

“Thank you for the flowers, and for dinner.” She smiled up at him. “And for changing your plans so I could see Maguire’s. It really helped me to be there and soak up the atmosphere.”

“It was my pleasure.” He sounded as though he really meant it.

A thought occurred to her. Research on Maguire’s new restaurant site would be much more fun with someone else along. She spoke before she could reconsider. “You mentioned that you don’t have class on Wednesday nights. Do you want to go with me to check out the new location? There’s a restaurant nearby that has awesome pizza.”

He shifted his gaze downward, and Tori experienced a stab of discomfort. Had she offended him? She thought he’d enjoyed the evening tonight, as she had. Maybe he was an old-fashioned kind of guy who didn’t like girls taking the initiative.

He gave a little nod and held her gaze. “And maybe while we’re there, you could show me those pictures.”

The suggestion dropped into Tori’s stomach like a lump of ice. She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on in a gentle tone.

“It might help to have someone else there when you look at them, you know? Just so you’re not alone.”

She closed her mouth again. Ryan was right. Going through those pictures in the solitude of her apartment would be nothing but gruesome. And looking at them with Allie and Joan, listening to her sisters’ commentaries on each one, would be even worse.

Her voice croaked when she asked, “What time?”

The smile that crept onto Ryan’s face went a long way toward warming her cold insides. “Since I don’t have class tomorrow, I’m free anytime after six, when I get off work.”