Page 61 of Fire

Gwen knew her friend was right. Damn it. She blew out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Yay. I can’t wait to hear what he has to say. I want all the details when you get back.”

“You’re not coming?” Gwen wasn’t sure she had it in her at the moment to spend an hour plus with a perfect stranger.

Allie frowned. “I wasn’t invited.”

“Well, I’m inviting you. I need a buffer to help me with small talk.”

“Okay, I’ll go get ready.”

Gwen raised a brow. “Didn’t you say we were meeting him at one?”

“We’re going to Chintz. I need at least four hours to prepare. That place is always crawling with movie stars. If I run into Chris Hemsworth, I want to look my best.”

“Do I need to remind you, again, that he’s married?”

“Hey, at the rate of Hollywood breakups, the odds are on my side. Don’t crush my dreams.”

Gwen dropped her elbows, plopping back down to her pillow. “Well, I don’t need that long, so wake me up in three hours.”

She tried—she really did—but she couldn’t fall back to sleep. Without Allie there as a distraction, her mind drifted to thoughts of Blake. She wondered what he was doing right then. Was he missing her? Most likely not, or else he would’ve called.

She rolled onto her side and stared at her cellphone sitting on her nightstand. Was it possible she’d missed a text while she dozed? She didn’t think so. She was a light sleeper usually and as fretful as her sleep had been the night before, she would’ve heard a pin drop.

Yet, those thoughts didn’t stop her from picking up her phone. She told herself she wanted to check the time. Never mind, that an alarm clock also sat on the nightstand with a bright digital display announcing it was eight thirty-five.

She woke up her phone, but the daisy-patterned wallpaper was the only thing that greeted her. No missed text bubbles. No missed calls.

She threw her phone on the bed and rolled to her back. Of course, there wasn’t. Blake was done with her. She’d seen it in his eyes as she’d been leaving.

She decided to get up and shower. With the way she probably looked, she’d need four hours to get ready, too.

Chintz was a five-star restaurant smack dab in the middle of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Of course, Gwen had heard of it, but she’d never been there. It was glitzy and glamorous andwayexpensive—hence the reason she’d never eaten there.

They’d taken her Honda, and the poor thing stood out like a sore thumb. Never mind it was the only car in the lot priced under twenty grand, it was also the only one that was bright red in a sea of dark hues. Were all rich people boring as well as extravagant?

Her mind flew to Blake and all his dark clothing. He was rich and extravagant, but far from boring.

Giving herself a mental slap for thinking of Blake, she marched across the heat-softened parking lot tarmac, her heels sticking with each step and making it hard to walk. July had roared in like a dragon, breathing its fiery breath across the valley. Usually, they didn’t get their excessive heat until late August or early September, but the temps so far that day had reached into the low hundreds, and the cool air of the restaurant as they stepped through the door was a welcome relief.

Right away, Gwen felt out of her element—even dressed as she was in her nicest Dior. With muted lighting and elegant décor, the overall ambiance screamed romance.

She felt like an imposter.

The hostess stand was manned by an exquisitely styled woman who had not one strand of hair out of place and a demure smile tipping her red-lipsticked lips. “Welcome to Chintz. Do you have a reservation?” If she thought Gwen and Allie looked out of place, she didn’t show it, her smile never faltering.

Allie was the one to speak up. “We’re meeting Frank Evans.”

Her smile grew broader. “Yes, of course. Right this way.”

They were shown to a table at the center of the room. Frank was already sitting at it but rose as they approached.

“Ladies.” He tipped his head and held a hand out for Gwen to shake. “It’s lovely to see you again, Gwen. Allie, I didn’t know you were coming.”

He didn’t seem bothered by the prospect of another luncheon guest, giving Allie a smile and waving them both into seats.

Gwen thanked the hostess as she was handed a menu then opened it, her eyes nearly bugging when discovering nothing on it was under fifty bucks. Oh, wait, the Caesar salad was forty-eight, but that was without chicken. She flipped to the back, hoping to find something à la carte.

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