Page 26 of Blitzing Emily

BRANDON STROLLED INTODaniel’s Broiler like he owned the place. Daniel’s was an institution on Seattle’s Eastside, located on the twenty-first floor of the Bank of America Tower in Bellevue. The restaurant featured dark wood, plush chairs, soft music, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on a dazzling view of Lake Washington, and amazing food. The service was even better than the food, if that was possible. It wasn’t cheap, but a meal at Daniel’s was something to be savored and remembered.

“We’d like to sit in a booth,” he said to the hostess, who’d just called him “Mr. McKenna” and asked if he’d like “the usual.”

“No, thank you,” he said to the hostess.

“What’s ‘the usual’?” Emily asked him as they followed the hostess.

“A big steak and an ice-cold vodka martini with olives. Please don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian,” he said.

“No. I eat meat. I just don’t eat that much of it.” She passed a glass case with steaks the size of someone’s head.

They were seated, and Brandon opened the menu. “We have to drink a little champagne to celebrate.”

“I’m concussed, and you want to celebrate.”

“Maybe I should rephrase that. We’ll drink a little champagne. Other than that, you should order whatever you’d like.” He lowered his voice. “Are you feeling better?”

“It comes and goes. What’s good here, besides meat?” Emily laid her menu on the table and glanced around. Brandon had slid into the booth next to her, so they could (hopefully) talk without being overheard. It was a cold but gorgeous day, and the view of Lake Washington was breathtaking. The water looked like blue glass.

“I’m going for the penne with lemon-thyme chicken.”

“I’ll have some, too.”

Brandon leaned against the padded back of the booth. “The server will be along any minute now. I knowI’mhungry.” Oddly enough, he appeared somewhat nervous. They’d spent the last twenty-four hours together, they’d slept in the same room, but she still knew almost nothing about him. Speaking of “knowing nothing,” she dug through her purse, extracted a folded piece of paper, and handed it to him.

“This is for you.”

He shook his head. “A list?”

“I wrote this while you were in the shower earlier. It’s biographical information about me. Maybe you could write up a few things before we see each other again,” Emily suggested. He unfolded the piece of paper, glanced at it a moment, and dropped it next to his silverware.

“What are you talking about?” He was obviously unconvinced.

“If we’re going to pull this off, we have to know things about each other.”

It seemed perfectly logical to her. Memorizing a list was easy, and it left no room for error. Obviously, he had other plans. His eyebrows smacked together, and he folded his arms across his chest.

“Isn’t this a bit impersonal? Can’t we get to know each other without a written checklist?”

“We have to have a plan,” Emily insisted, and the server approached.

Brandon seemed to shake himself a bit and said, “Hello.”

“Hi. I’m Jordan. I’m your server today. Would you like a drink to get your lunch order started?”

“Well, Jordan. Nice to meet you.” Brandon flipped to the menu’s wine list. “We’d like to order a good bottle of champagne. I’ll leave that up to you and the sommelier, other than to say I’m not a big Dom Perignon fan, and maybe more dry than sweet. We’d both like the penne pasta with chicken for lunch, but I’d like a double order for myself. We’d like the house salad with vinaigrette dressing, and we’d like some bread and butter for the table, please.”

“May I have some water with no ice?” Emily asked.

“Of course you may,” Jordan said. “I’ll bring the champagne, the water, the salad, and the bread right away.”

“No ice?” Brandon looked quizzical.

“Bad for the vocal cords,” she explained. “They need to stay nice and warm.”

“Ahh. I see. So, Emily Anne Hamilton, maybe I’ll burn this little piece of paper and ask you questions instead.” He made a grab for the small glass oil candle at one end of the table. Emily pushed it out of his reach.

“You won’t remember everything—”

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