Page 19 of Breathe
Kane was watching her. When he opened his mouth, she almost flinched. But all he said was, “What do you like to eat here?”
She ordered the lamb chops. He got swordfish. Ellen raised her eyebrows. Don’t say it. But she said it. “You know, this is a steakhouse.” Maybe he wasn’t the only one with the devil in him.
“I know it,” he said. Even when she was being bratty, he smiled at her. “I’ve been on the road a lot these last few days. Ate a lot of junk food.”
“Hence the running.”
“Well, the running is supposed to be a regular thing. I usually go down there later at night during the week, but this week...”
She now remembered, not the press conference, but the Kane she’d seen watching the fire; the Kane coming into the office, tired and worried and being sweet to his receptionist. She thought of the ever-so-quick glance she’d had at his Wiki page; of losing his father so horribly, and taking over the company while still so young. And now someone was setting more fires, possibly endangering more people. It had to be bothering him.
This was a much more dangerous path to go down. If she started feeling sorry for him, she would start thinking of him as human.
He had picked up the fork again and was making it shake back and forth between his fingers. Was he thinking about the fires as well? Or did he just need a cigarette? After a second he focused on her again, saw her watching him, and gave that slow smile. Bloody man, she thought, and ohh.
“So tell me,” he said, sitting up straighter. “What brought you to Boston?”
That was an easy question; she had the edited version finely honed. “The hotel likes to move its employees around; get us used to different cultures. I’d worked at the London site for a few years. It was time.”
“So why Boston?”
Edward’s cool, blond, arrogant face, smirking at her across her parents’ dining table, swam into her mind, making her take another sip of beer. Because it was the first available job, and I had to get out of there. “The history,” she half-lied. “You don’t get much older than Boston in this country.” She looked at him, her mouth twisting. “And the accent.”
“What accent?” He smiled.
Ellen had to laugh at that. “Well, quite. I’m kind of a student of them. One of these days I’m going to take a road trip across the country and just listen.” Well, she’d planned to do that. Somehow four years had slid right by her, and now she was out of time.
“Lucía said you speak five languages.”
Ellen lowered her eyes and began picking at the label on her beer. So he’d asked Lucía about her? What had Lucía said? What do you care, Ellen? This is not high school. And it’s six languages, actually. Aloud, she said, “I’m getting rusty. I started on reception at the Rosette in London before I moved to events and conferences, and there aren’t many languages required in this job.”
“My brother-in-law’s Italian,” he said. “He’s taught me a few phrases.”
“Let me guess, to impress the ladies?”
His smile quirked up. “Not enough to impress you, I’d guess.”
“Obviously.” Their waiter brought their food, and Ellen was completely distracted. The garlic-rosemary sauce on her lamb chops smelled like pure heaven. She was suddenly so hungry it was all she could do not to pick up a chop in her hands and go at it with her teeth. She kept herself in check, however, and got the first piece eaten with minimal ecstatic moaning. Kane, she saw with no surprise, ate the American way, cutting his pieces and then switching his fork to his right hand to eat. Penny called her way the “shovel approach,” and tonight she might live up to the term.
After a few minutes, Kane broke the silence. “Good?” was all he said.
“Really good,” she had to admit, aware that she was at risk of dripping juices.
He laughed a little. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said all night.”
As swept up in the flavors and the pleasure of plain good food as she was, she said, “Maybe if you were covered in this gravy and served up next to this pile of mashed potatoes, I’d say something nice to you too.”
Kane laughed out loud. “Deal!” he shouted, making her blush scarlet and a few faces at the bar turn around. Kane couldn’t stop laughing, and Ellen couldn’t stop blushing. She was going to lock the memory of tonight up in a vault as soon as she got out of here and never refer to it again.
“All I was trying to say was—” But he waved her away and held his sides. With what little dignity she had left, she worked on her food, until Kane finally stopped laughing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, ostentatiously mopping his brow. “You just—surprised yourself—so much!”
“Don’t start again,” she begged. “Eat your fish.” And to give him something else to think about, she said, “And tell me about your useless Italian brother-in-law.”
“Oh, he’s not the useless one.” Kane took a drink. “He’s fine. My sister’s the pain in the ass in that marriage. The useless one isn’t even married to my sister, that’s how useless he is.”
Ellen frowned. “Can you start again?”
