Yasmin picked up one of the glossy documents and flicked through the pictures of beautiful brides and perfect table settings. “Yes, O’Malley Weddings, for example. That place has been Mom and Dad’s direct competition for years, and while things have been getting harder and harder here, they’ve recently expanded, and I’ve heard they’re fully booked for two years. It would be great to find out how they do it.”
“Yes, but you can bet the O’Malleys aren’t going to give up their secrets that easily. I know there’s been a feud between your families for years. By the way, how did it start?”
Yasmin sighed. “Apparently there was a big society wedding they were both hoping to get but the O’Malleys won. Dad said they cheated, but who knows.”
“If we want to find out why the O’Malleys are so successful, we’ll need to try to find people to talk to about their experiences there, or maybe get some video footage inside during a wedding.”
A clear and perfectly formed idea slunk its way into Yasmin’s head. Something that could help in the renovation and guarantee her some time away from the Palace with Lane. “What if we went as guests? I’ve been invited to my friend Paul’s wedding there the weekend after next. The bride’s mother is friends with Mrs. O’Malley. You could come as my date, and we could treat it like an undercover investigation.”
“They’ll recognize you, of course,” he said with the inscrutable gaze that made the skin at the back of her neck heat.
“If Mr. and Mrs. O’Malley are there they might, but I’d imagine they mostly have managers running things. And if any of the other family members see us there it’ll be too late to change or hide anything. What do you say?”
He scrubbed his hand across his chin. “Maybe.”
Lane as her date at a wedding, where she’d have the chance to get dressed up, and possibly even dance with him? She shivered a little with excitement. Maybe the seduction of Lane Griffiths had a chance after all. But that was more than a week away, and she couldn’t wait that long. “Of course they’re not going to have the Greek choices on their menu that we have here, so I also think it’s important for us to visit some contemporary Greek restaurants.”
He nodded. “There’s a good one near me, Costa’s Cuizina.”
“How about we go there tomorrow night?” She felt a little light-headed as all the possible ways she could get closer to him materialized. She might not have him hooked yet, but at least they were heading in the right direction now, and when the time was right she’d reel him in.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t tomorrow night. I have an appointment.”
An appointment, or a date? Suddenly, stage one in her plan to seduce Lane Griffiths began to unravel in front of her.
…
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Yasmin’s face slackened and she twirled a piece of her Day-Glo hair between her fingers. “Here’s me inviting you out for dinner and attempting to commandeer your weekend, and your whole life for the next month, without considering what else you might have going on.” She bit her lip and looked at him with those big brown eyes…as though he’d asked her out and then decided he had something better to do.
“No problem.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and flicked to the calendar so she’d think he could keep his eyes off her. Even though he couldn’t. He was pretty sure tomorrow night’s meeting was the only thing he had all week, but Yasmin didn’t need to know that. “How about tonight?”
The rose tint that he’d seen yesterday crawled up her neck, and Yasmin waved the air with her hand. He’d never considered that a blush could be so sexy until he’d seen one on Yasmin. “No, I was just getting carried away. You’re the restaurant professional. I’m sure you know enough about Greek food already, or else you can talk to your friends about it.” She picked up another of the brochures and flipped through it. “And I’m going to Paul’s wedding anyway, there’s no reason you have to come with me to that.”
Surprised by the hurt tone in her voice, he stopped scrolling through the calendar and looked at her. “Actually, I don’t know a lot about Greek food—apart from your mom’s cooking. Hers was the only home-cooked food I had when I was young. My mother always took me out for dinner after she left my father, and Dad was clueless about cooking, so when I was with him we lived off takeout.”
Yasmin tipped her head to one side and frowned. “Then how on earth did you get into the restaurant business? I just pictured all restaurateurs having grown up with good food and home cooking.”
“When I was sixteen, I’d gotten sick of the to-ing and fro-ing between my parents, and I wanted to avoid it all so I started washing dishes in a local restaurant. I’d known from watching your parents that running a food joint took a lot of time and energy, but I also liked being around lots of people all the time. I never had that at home.”
“Things must have been hard for you.”
Her eyes had softened and he cleared his throat, not wanting to go down that road with her. Or anyone. “I think you’re right,” he said as he went back to looking at his calendar. “We should take a look at some fresh ideas, and tonight works for me. We don’t have a lot of time for this. I only have a month until construction begins on my new restaurant complex, so the sooner we get on it the better.”
“Then you could go with Leo. He’ll need to be involved with the changes to the menu,” she said as if she was having second thoughts about spending time with him.
He rubbed his hand at the back of his neck. A minute ago she was excited and making constructive plans about how they should tackle this, and now she was backing off. Maybe he’d given her the impression that he didn’t take her or this project seriously enough. It was true that his project in Manhattan was his lifelong dream—being the best of the best and being in charge of his own destiny. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of achieving that, but he wanted her to know what this renovation meant to him, too.
“I always loved sitting around your family’s dinner table.” And he didn’t mean Pia’s perfect cheese pies, or the desserts running with honey and nuts; he meant the warmth and the noise, and the good-humored banter that he still looked forward to every time he visited here. “I used to dream about your noisy family dinners and the way every problem could be solved by a good meal.” He had a clearer memory of her as a kid now; she always seemed kind of shy when she was around him and Nick, but with her whole family, she was just as loud and confident as they were. “So, I’m off to dinner with Leo?”
Her face fell and she held her hands out. “Actually, no, I’ve just remembered, Leo can’t go with you tonight. Because of the award for his bread business, Grace is hoping for extra bookings in the restaurant, so she’ll want him to be here.”
Lane nodded. “Then it’ll just be you and me. Eating a whole pile of dolmas and coming up with our plan.”
…
Lane checked his messages while he waited in his car for Yasmin to come downstairs early that evening. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d been roped into being with her around food again—watching her savor a whole three courses could be dangerous to his health. He was gambling his survival on the fact that a Greek restaurant wouldn’t serve whipped cream.
She’d tried to convince him to meet her at Costa’s, but he’d been around the Katsalos family long enough to know what were the right and wrong ways to call on a woman, whether it was a business meeting or not, and she’d agreed to his waiting outside. Treating a woman with respect had been one of Mano’s mantras.
He’d learned way more about those sorts of life lessons from Mano Katsalos than he had from his own father. His dad was more interested in scoring points from his mom as they passed him back and forth from week to week. They split when he was two, so he had no real memory of happy family times until he’d met Nick and been welcomed into his family. Of course his future would be filled with many happy times now, running his own restaurant in the most modern hotel in the world. He’d create his own memories from now on.
Hearing a door shut, he looked up through the windshield. As soon as he saw Yasmin walking toward him, his breathing stopped. She looked like a style icon from a midcentury movie, all color and shine and heart-seizing beauty. He got out of the car and went to open the door for her, still watching her every move.
She was wearing the most shockingly green dress he’d ever seen. It was an Amy Winehouse 1950s sort of thing, with a tight waist and a flared skirt, and it absolutely, 100 percent clashed with the purple of her hair. Enormous hoop earrings swayed against her neck as she walked. The look on her face suggested she didn’t give a damn about anything, a grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Thanks,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat before he moved around to the driver’s side.
“So is this the way you treat all your dates?” She grinned as he got in. “Opening doors like an old movie star?”
While this might look like a date—and the feeling when he’d first seen her might make it feel like one—they both needed to remember that it was anything but. “Only the ones with fathers who would line me up against a wall and shoot me if I didn’t treat their little girls right.” He started the engine and pulled out into the street.
“But Dad is miles across the Atlantic,” Yasmin said. “I’m going to pretend you did it because that’s the way you always like to treat a girl.” She brushed the fabric of the skirt across her knees. “I’m glad we could do this tonight, on account of the date you have tomorrow.”
“Yes, it worked out well.” He wasn’t sure what had given her the idea his meeting tomorrow was a date. “What sort of things were you hoping to look at tonight?”
She frowned, then shifted on her seat. “I’m hoping we’ll get inspiration for new things to put on the menu, but I also want to get new ideas for decor. We don’t want to change the special Greek atmosphere of the Palace’s restaurant, but there must be ways to make it more fresh.”
“I agree. According to my research, there are still plenty of families who hold on to their Greek traditions but who aren’t having their weddings at the Palace. Why do you think that is?”
Yasmin shrugged and the puffy sleeve of her dress slipped a little, baring a shoulder, and he imagined reaching over and touching her smooth skin.
“I don’t know. I suspect it’s because Mom and Dad haven’t moved with the times,” she said, oblivious to his distraction. “The first- and second-generation kids still want to hold on to some of the old traditions, but they want to incorporate American things too. I think if we can get a balance, we’ll be on the right track.”
“What would you want to have for your wedding?”
She turned to him and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Me?” She laughed, a light and sweet sound. “A wedding? That’s one thing I’m not planning on. Ever.”
“Really? Why not?”
“I guess it feels like another expectation for me, like something I’m supposed to do. Even if I did decide to have a ceremony, I couldn’t imagine that he’d be a Greek guy, so a wedding in a flashy place like the Palace wouldn’t suit me. I’m planning on meeting a guy on a beach on the other side of the world and just going where the mood takes us.”
He couldn’t stop himself from frowning, still trying to reconcile the image he’d always had of Yasmin with the colorful creature sitting in his coupe. Her sexiness had shocked him when they’d met in the tea shop, but now he was more intrigued by the fact that he still felt that way about her when they were clearly so different.
“How about you?” Her voice softened. “Are you after the big wedding?”
His fingers curled around the steering wheel. “Absolutely. But I have no illusions. Finding the right person will take time and consideration. I guess it’s like my new restaurant—it’s something I’ve always aspired to, and when the time was right I made it happen. When I do find her, I want a marriage that I can be proud of, a relationship that’s alive and evolving.” Before she could ask him any more he said, “I reckon Nick will want to have a traditional wedding too.”
“Ooooh, yes. Nick will want to have the expensive white wedding and the wife who does what he tells her to. She’ll be from the right sort of family and know that she’s never quite going to be his equal. He and Dad have always thought that women were a little hopeless.”
“That’s a little harsh.”
She looked out her side window and smoothed the fabric of her skirt. “They can be a bit Neanderthal at times.”
“I think they both care a lot about you.” Lane slowed for a red light and turned to her. “There’s a lot worse you could have in your life than people who are looking out for you.”
“Of course.”
“When are you going to tell Nick about what’s happening with your parents?”
She shrugged. “I’ll let them decide that. I think Dad’s hoping he’ll have Mom back here by the end of the week and that Nick and Ari will be none the wiser, but I don’t like secrets. I tried to Skype Mom after you left this morning, but she wasn’t at my aunt’s. I’ll call her tomorrow and see how she is and what’s she’s going to tell my brothers. Hey, look,” she said, pointing out the window. “You and Nick used to do karate in that old building, didn’t you?”
“You remember that?”
“Of course. I used to come watch you sometimes.”
He sensed she didn’t want to talk about her family anymore, so he turned the conversation back to the restaurant. “We’ll need to win a whole new crowd who want something more contemporary and a little bit European in our redesign. Have you been to Costa’s?”
Her shoulders relaxed and she stopped stroking the fabric of her dress. “No, but I’ve heard of him. I haven’t been home much since I moved to California for college.”
“I let Costa know we were coming. I’ve done advisory work for him in the past, so I asked if he could be there tonight for a quick chat after we’ve eaten, and he agreed.”
“Have you been seeing her for a while?”
Lane frowned, unsure whom Yasmin was talking about. “Sorry, who?”
She’d started the fabric-stroking thing again and he sat forward in his seat. Behind that newly confident exterior there were still hints of the reserved girl he’d known, and he couldn’t figure her out. He stopped at a red light. His old high school was on the corner, and he tried to think back to what Yasmin was like when they were younger. Why were his memories of her so vague?
“The girl tomorrow.”
“Oh, Lisa. We meet regularly. I have a charity organization that picks up leftover food from supermarkets and restaurants and delivers it to soup kitchens. She coordinates the work, and we catch up from time to time about it. Chances are we’ll spend most of the evening talking about that. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” She still looked nervous, smoothing her dress and looking out the window. “I was just wondering if she’d be okay with us going to the wedding together. You spending a whole day with another woman.”
“It’s not a date, and most people who know me understand that work’s the most important thing in my life. Besides, you’re my best friend’s little sister. What could anyone be worried about?”
He looked across at her and the tiniest of smiles curved her mouth. Each time she stroked the skirt of her dress, his pulse gave an extra beat and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. What would it be like to be the one stroking that thigh? Kissing the smile on those lips? Abruptly, he turned his attention back to the windshield and focused on the road in front. Those were questions he’d never know the answer to, and must never attempt to find out.
…
How in the name of all good things did you go about seducing your older brother’s best friend? Or any guy that you’d only ever admired from afar, and only imagined talking to in your dreams?
Did you start by removing your shoe and slowly rubbing his leg under a table with your toes? Yasmin had seen that in a movie once, and the guy had thought there was a spider
crawling up his leg, leaped up, and spilled a bowl of minestrone all down his white pants. She couldn’t imagine Lane ever wearing white pants, so maybe she could try that.
Perhaps she could mention she’d been thinking about how hard his pecs might be when she passed him the butter in the restaurant. She suppressed a cough. Truth be told, she couldn’t imagine saying something like that without her face getting so red it burst into flames.
As they drove toward the restaurant, her stomach began to twist in tighter and tighter knots. Talking about when they were younger made her remember that feeling of being invisible, as though Lane could only ever see straight through her. What was she going to do now that would make him start to really notice her?
Chapter Four
Sitting at a corner table in Costa’s Greek restaurant while Lane talked about profit margins on entrées and the finer points of a good dessert, all Yasmin could do was watch the way his strong jaw moved and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his businesses.
That he was the perfect candidate for number five on her list wasn’t an issue; the question was more about whether he’d be into a casual relationship for fun and mutual satisfaction, and whether he even found her attractive. There was no getting Dutch courage from a glass of wine or two; her damaged liver from the dengue fever had made sure of that. She took a sip of her sparkling water.
Of course she could just wait and see if anything developed between them, but that would be living by her old rules. Her life from now on was about taking each day by the scruff of its neck and shaking it until she got what she wanted. And what she wanted was Lane’s strong arms wrapped around her.
The problem was that everything she’d done so far to flirt with him had been an abysmal failure. She’d twirled her hair and he’d wondered if that was a good idea given the trauma it had gone through with the coloring. She’d rested her chin on her hands and looked at him while he’d talked and he’d said her octopus would get cold. He’d commented on the brightness of her dress, mentioned numerous embarrassing incidents from when they were growing up, and given a confused sort of smile when she said that they had a lot in common these days.
The Bouquet List: a Weddings in Westchester novel (Entangled Bliss) Page 4