Page 50 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
She’d planned her escape before we even got here. In fact, she’d probably planned it before either Scarlett or I woke up today.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Scarlett gave her grandmother a bewildered look and a kiss on the cheek then followed the hostess to our table.
I joined her a few minutes later after helping Victoria into the housekeeper’s car.
“The diabolical matchmaker of Eastport Bay is safely on her way home where she will no doubt spend the evening concoctingnewways to throw us together.”
Scarlett looked down then gave me a reticent smile. “You think that’s what she’s doing?”
“I know that’s what she’s doing. She’s been telling me what a ‘brilliant, beautiful,darlinggirl’ you are almost non-stop since you got here.”
Scarlett giggled. “She’s been singing your praises as well.”
“She’s definitely up to something.”
I couldn’t say I was disappointed in the turn of events. I’d been sorely mistaken last night in my belief that painting Scarlett into the mural had purged my desire for her.
The instant I’d seen her this morning, it came roaring back.
It was strange, I’d been out with many beautiful women—some of them technically more beautiful than Scarlett. But no one made me feel the way she did.
I wasn’t sure if it was because our romantic interlude had occurred before the Iraq incident and its horrible aftermath or if it was simply an effect of her unique chemical makeup and the way it interacted with mine, but this womandid itfor me.
It was kind of a scary feeling to be so powerless before another person.
Completely unaware of the train of my thoughts, she smiled at me over the top of her menu. “Know what you want?”
Yes. You.
“I think I’m going to go with the citrus and beet salad and the grilled flatiron steak. You?”
“I can’t decide between the baked sole and the lobster roll,” she said. “The crispy chicken looks good, too.”
“You really can’t go wrong. The Cliffhouse is one of the best restaurants in Eastport Bay and a personal favorite of mine. The guys from Viridian come here together to celebrate whenever we score a big new contract. You should check out Nooky’s too—another Eastport Bay tradition.”
“Nooky’s?” She wrinkled her nose and giggled. “Is that a strip club?”
I laughed out loud. “I guess it sounds like one. No, I’m not urging you to try the ‘legs and eggs’ special. Nooky’s is a twenty-four-hour diner. The guy who founded it was named William Nookson. I’m guessing Nooky was his nickname.”
“Was he a SEAL, too?” she asked. “Eastport Bay seems to be crawling with them.”
“Not that I know of. Anyway, he made a hell of a chocolate cream pie. I’d eat a whole one without stopping—couldn’t help myself. His daughter Pam took over the business when he retired. Now they serve at least ten kinds of pie every day of the week.”
The waiter came and took our orders then disappeared again, leaving us in relative privacy.
Scarlett took a sip from her water glass. “Do you miss it?”
“The chocolate cream pie?”
“No silly. Being a SEAL.”
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
“Regular life must seem pretty quiet after all the things you’ve seen and done, all the places you’ve been and people you’ve met.”
“It does, but that’s not a bad thing,” I said. “I’ve never seen anywhere more beautiful than this place.” I swept my hand toward the ocean view.
“And most of the people I met during those years were in and out of my life pretty quickly,” I said. “Some of them I prayed never to see again—present company excluded.”
