Page 20 of Bride By Committee

“Yes.” He sympathized. “I am. We’re a lot alike in that regard, aren’t we?”

That cheered her right up. She immediately relaxed and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “Yes, we are. We’re both difficult and both intimidating.”

“Not to mention practical and logical.”

“That’s why we’re so good at our jobs.” She glanced around. “I thought we agreed to meet at House Milano. Isn’t that at the top of King Tower? What are you doing down here?”

“I thought I’d ride up with you.”

It only took her a moment’s reflection to see through his explanation. “You weren’t by any chance worried about me, Mr. Jones?” He couldn’t tell if the idea pleased or offended her. “Were you concerned that I might have another fit of claustrophobia?”

“Not a chance,” he lied with calm assurance, pushing the call button for the elevator. “This afternoon’s incident was a fluke, an unfortunate combination of factors unlikely ever to happen again.”

“But if they do, you want to be there?”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

The elevator arrived just then and he followed her into the car. He couldn’t help but notice that her breathing altered and the color ebbed from her cheeks. He’d have liked to snatch her close and kiss her from the first floor straight through until they’d reached thetop.

His mouth twisted. But that wouldn’t be practical, or so he suspected she’d claim. Without a word he closed his hand around hers and began to talk—light, inconsequential conversation that didn’t require too much thought or response. The minute they arrived at the restaurant, he released his hold. She flashed him a sweet smile of gratitude before stepping from the car and traversing the pathway of diamond-shaped, pink-and-ivory marble leading toward an imposing glass reservationdesk.

“I meant to ask earlier.” She was swift to regain her self-possession. “Have Sunny and Bartholomew arrived yet?”

“Not yet.”

Madison nodded as though she’d expected as much. “They’re giving us time alone in the hopes that something more might develop between us. Idon’t suppose that’s another of your father’s love principles?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Mr. Jones, Ms. Adams?” An elderly gentleman dressed in a black tux with a white rose pinned to his lapel approached from behind the reservations desk. “Welcome to House Milano. My name is Georgio.” He gave a courtly bow. “Mr. Milano has requested that you be given our very best table. If you’ll follow me, please?”

They passed through the main dining area where the restaurant blended Old World charm with a contemporary flair. Walls of glass offered an incomparable view of downtown Seattle and tables had been set at discreet distances from each other, angled toward the dance floor where a combo played a delightful jazz number. Harry was impressed.

“I understand this is your first visit to our establishment.” Georgio smiled in a friendly manner, afar cry from the more typical patronizing maître d’. “You’ll find it’s the perfect place to spend a leisurely evening.”

One end of the room was divided off from the main area and Georgio led the way through a gated archway. Low dividing walls and barrels of plants separated the scattered tables, offering the diners both privacy and a stunning view of the city and Puget Sound. There was no question in Harry’s mind that this section of the restaurant had been created with romance inmind.

“We reserve these tables for our special guests,” Georgio explained in an undertone. “Sunny is one of Mr. Milano’s favorites. Amost delightful woman.”

“Most people think so,” Madison agreed.

“No doubt.” He held out her chair. “Please feel free to visit our dance floor if you wish. I’ll return shortly for your drink order. Mr. Milano has requested that I take care of all your needs personally.”

Madison waited until Georgio left before speaking. “Harry?”

He didn’t look up from the wine menu. “Try not to worry, Madison. It will all work out.”

“What’s going on?”

“My father and Sunny are being a bit overzealous. That’s all.”

“Overzealous?” Her eyes narrowed. “I know a setup when I see one and this is definitely a setup. Now what are we going to do about it?”

Harry closed the menu with slow deliberation and returned it to the immaculate white linen tablecloth before fixing Madison with a curious gaze. “What do you suggest we do?”

“We need to come up with a plan to stop them.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “A plan to stop what, precisely? Tonight’s dinner?”

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