True Bliss (Bliss #2)(12)
Author: B.J. Harvey

I sigh with relief. “Oh, thank god. Yes, that would be awesome. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. First date?”

“Uh, yeah. Am I that obvious?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Not at all. Mr. Carrington explained it was a first date and why he was calling in advance. He won’t stand you up. He’s a regular customer.”

Holy hell, what if he brings all of his dates here? What if I’m just one of a long line of conquests? Dammit. Is he a regular customer to the restaurant or a regular dater at the restaurant? Shit! I think I need to call Mac. A freak-out of epic proportions is imminent.

I pull out my phone and speed dial Mac.

“Kate, you okay?” she answers, sounding worried.

“Um. So yeah. I talk, you listen?”

“Of course, hit me,” she says excitedly. I swear to God Mac lives for this shit, especially given that it’s usually me on the receiving end of her freak-outs, not the other way around.

“I’ve arrived at the restaurant, and they’ve shown me to our table, but there is no Spencer. Apparently, he called the hostess and explained he was running late and asked that I be served. Is that thoughtful? Or is it crappy that he’s late, and I’m being too soft and gullible again falling for this internet dating shit? Because seriously, I can’t decide whether he’s thoughtful and charming, or simply trying to cover his tardy ass. And then, Holly the hostess tells me that he’s a regular customer here, and that is just ringing mega loud, epic, freaking alarm bells in my head for some reason. God! Why is this twisting me in knots so much?”

She giggles. The bitch. My bestest friend in the whole wide world giggles. “That was a good one, hon. Nothing on my Noah bathroom freak-out in June, but still, I’d give that an eight out of ten.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” I say, a smile slowly creeping up my face. “So now that you’ve laughed at me, have you got any advice?”

“Kate, stop psychoanalyzing everything. He’s probably a nice guy who just likes the food and goes there because they make the best Alfredo in Chicago.”

Yes, okay. She’s right. I’ve got to stop over-thinking this shit.

“I suppose. Just seems strange.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. If not, let me know, and Daniel and I can come get you. Say we’re getting take-out or something. I never need an excuse for that Tiramisu.”

“I’ll be fine. You have a good night. And don’t stress about meeting Daniel’s parents. It’s not good for the mini superhero…or heroine.”

“Easy for you to say, missy. You’re not the one who got knocked up by their gorgeous, talented, superhero.” I hear Daniel chuckle in the background.

“Okay, that’s enough. You’ll be fine, and I know they’ll love you. I’m gonna go. I love you, you crazy pregnant woman.”

“Love you too. Bye,” she replies before hanging up.

Shortly after making myself comfortable and pulling out my compact to check my makeup one last time, Holly arrives with my wine.

“Mr. Carrington requested this Chardonnay from the Campania region of Italy be brought to you once you arrived. I hope it is to your satisfaction.”

“Wow, thanks,” I reply, totally out of my element here. How thoughtful is this man? I mean, who thinks to order their date a glass of wine and make sure they’re seated and comfortable when they’re running late?

She places the bottle on the table and leans toward me. “Relax, hon. He’ll be here soon.” I see a strange expression cross over her face before she hides it and gives me her well-practiced smile again.

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome,” she answers cheerfully before bouncing her way back to the entrance.

I pull out my phone, checking for a message from Mr. Carrington, and coming up empty. I look up to see Spencer walking toward me, and he honestly takes my breath away. God, he’s even more stunning in real life. That profile photo did not do him justice. His dark brown hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it, but he pulls it off. His ice-blue eyes are more potent than on his profile. They’re the type of eyes one could get lost in, and ones that I’m already totally addicted to. And his body…let me tell you, if he’s a frequent dater, then I now know why. He’s wearing dark grey slacks with a light blue shirt, both clearly tailored just for his body. Broad shoulders and strong arms that would feel great wrapped around you. They’re the type of arms that would make any woman feel safe and protected. In short, he’s totally dreamy. In fact, with hair and eyes like that, he’s almost like the McDreamy of Chicago.

On the Zander scale of hotness, where Zander is a ten, this guy is a firm nine. Instantly, my night starts to look up.

Standing up to greet him, I’m shocked when he hands me a bouquet of red roses.

“Oh, they’re beautiful, Spencer. Thank you.”

I put my hand out to shake his and gasp when he pulls my hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles. “Please forgive my tardiness. I got stuck on a late conference call. I’m so glad you waited for me.”

“With flowers and an apology like that, you’re forgiven,” I say with a smile.

“I hope so. Otherwise, I’d have to spend the rest of the evening making it up to you. What a shame that would be.” He gives me a gorgeous grin before pulling out my chair so I can take a seat again and rounding the table to sit down opposite me.

“Have they taken your order yet?”

“No, I thought I’d wait for you.”

“Well, I can’t have you going hungry now, can I? You never know what you might need your energy for later,” he replies with a wink just as Brandi appears at our table again.

“Mr. Carrington,” she says deadpan.

“Holly,” he muses, not taking his eyes off me. I have to admit, this man oozes charm. Since he arrived, he hasn’t stopped looking at me, but not raking his eyes over my body like he only has one thing on his mind either. I’m talking about looking in my eyes; it’s unsettling and amazing all at once.

“I’ve just ordered another glass of wine for you from the bar. Would you like to order your meals?” she asks him, not looking at me. Now that Spencer has arrived, she seems to have returned to her professional self. Her tone when she speaks to him is not the warm, friendly voice she greeted me with. It’s cold, deadpan, and full of some unknown emotion I can’t quite pinpoint.

Picking up the menu, he looks over it before nodding at her. “That would be great,” he replies, looking over at me. “Kate, have you had a chance to look at the menu while I so rudely kept you waiting?”