Cassidy Lane (16 page)

She stole another
glance at him. He looked happy, but he also seemed a bit tired. She didn’t remember him appearing that way in New York. Then again, his sons hadn’t been with him. Her friends who were working parents often told her they slept better on business trips than at home. That was probably the case with him.

She pointed to
the thick locks on his head. “Better too much hair than not enough, right? Some of those guys at the reunion were looking a little thin up top. That’s got to be rough.”

“That’s for sure.”
He clicked his key fob to unlock the car, then opened the door for her. As she climbed inside, she watched him move around to the driver’s side, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair as he walked.

I want to
do that
, she thought.

Brandon pulled to
a stop in front of the restaurant and looked over at Cassidy as he turned off the ignition. “Hey, I forgot to ask, did you get a nap on the plane? I’d hate to think the flight interrupted your schedule.”

She gave him
a mock look of shock before exiting the car. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Of course I
am. So did you get a nap?”

“Actually, if you
must know, I did
not
sleep on the plane.”
If you only knew why
.

“Poor thing, I’m
sorry to hear that. I promise not to keep you out too late tonight then.” He handed the keys to the valet, then held the door to the restaurant open for her. The moment they walked inside they were greeted by the owner, a short, rotund man with thick gray hair, a matching mustache, and an infectious smile.

“Brandon, hello and
welcome. I saw you were coming in tonight. Your favorite table will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Stefan.”
Brandon turned toward Cassidy. “This is Cassidy Lane, a bestselling author. We went to high school together.”

Stefan reached for
Cassidy’s hand and kissed it. “An author? My, what a pleasure. What do you write?”

She smiled politely.
“Contemporary fiction, nothing too serious.”

“She’s being modest.
Her books are really good,” Brandon said.

Stefan winked at
her. “Well then, if Brandon says so, it must be true. He’s one of my best customers, you see.”

“Thank you, Stefan.
Should we get a glass of wine at the bar?” Brandon briefly placed his hand on Cassidy’s lower back, and she felt a jolt of heat shoot through her spine.

“Sure, sounds good.”
She hoped her face hadn’t turned red.

Oh my God,
he touched me.

The bartender waved
as they approached the bar. “Hey, Brandon. Welcome back. Can I get you the usual?”

“Sounds good, Peter.”
Brandon looked at Cassidy. “What would you like to drink?”

“A glass of
sauvignon blanc would be nice,” she said with a shy smile.

“Sauvignon blanc and
a vodka martini, coming right up,” Peter said.

As Peter poured
their drinks, Cassidy glanced over her shoulder to take in the scene around them. The restaurant was bustling, the tables filled with well-heeled couples and groups engaged in lively conversation. The muted color palette of the room was punctuated by oversized vases of fresh flowers, and classical music played softly in the background.

She turned back
to Brandon just as he handed her a glass of wine. “Nice place, isn’t it?”

Cassidy nodded. “It’s
gorgeous. My dad was right.”

Stefan returned and
led them to their table, whose location in the center of the room somehow made Cassidy feel welcome and special. Seconds after he left, a crisply dressed waiter appeared in his place.

“Brandon, it’s nice
to see you again. I’ll be right back with some water,” the waiter said.

“Thanks, Pierre.”

Cassidy tilted her
head toward Brandon as Pierre slipped away. “Are you on a first-name basis with
everyone
here?”

He laughed. “I
told you this is my favorite restaurant. I used to come here three times a week.”

“Three times a
week? That’s more than most people exercise. Why did you come here so often?”

He shrugged. “When
Juliette and I first split up, I moved into an apartment right around the corner from here. Cooking for one after cooking for a family of four was a little depressing, so for a while I just avoided the kitchen altogether.”

She felt her
cheeks flush and regretted having asked the question. “Oh. I’m sorry. I was just…I was just curious.”

He smiled. “Don’t
apologize. The food here is amazing. You’ll love it.”

“So how’s the
book coming?” Brandon asked.

Cassidy stabbed a
brussels sprout with her fork. “It’s coming. I’m struggling a bit to stay focused, but it’s getting there.” She didn’t tell him
he
was the main reason for her lack of concentration. She wanted to be open and honest with him, but that was one piece of information she was determined to keep to herself. At least for now.

“Are you ever
going to tell me what it’s about? I am paying for this dinner, you know.”

She laughed. “OK,
fine. It’s about an ambitious young advertising executive whose professional life is on track, but her personal life is falling off the rails a bit.”

“Advertising, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you use
to work in advertising?”

“I did. First
in San Francisco and then in New York.”

“But you quit
the New York job to become a writer, correct?”

She nodded. “Eventually.”

He scratched his
chin. “So how much of the book is autobiographical?”

She took a
sip of water. “To be honest, not all that much.”

“You sure about
that? I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

She smiled. “I’ve
found that yes, when I write a book it always begins with a small piece of me and my life, but then once I get into the story, it starts to take on a life of its own, and it usually evolves into something I’d never imagined at the outset. Plus things pop up in my own life along the way, and they sometimes have an impact too.”

“Like what?”

“For example, on
the plane today I met a young woman who used to work in advertising but hated it, and I know our conversation will end up leaving a footprint on the book in some way or another. I can just tell.”

“What did she
say?”

“I can’t remember
exactly, but I wrote it down.”

“Ah, yes, the
sticky notes.”

She pointed at
him. “Yes, the sticky notes. Thank God for the sticky notes. Anyhow, when one of my books is finally signed, sealed, and delivered, I’m always amazed that I actually wrote it, because I have no idea where a lot of it came from.”

“That must be
a strange feeling.”

“Yep, it’s very
strange, but it’s happened several times now. Anyhow, I know that was a roundabout way of answering your question of how much my books are autobiographical, I guess you could say they are about my life…if my life were much more exciting.”

He picked up
his glass. “We’ve been over this. Your life is very exciting.”

“Says you. I
disagree.”

“Then we’ll have
to agree to disagree.”

She held up
her glass as if in a toast. “Agreed. And what did you say when you were in New York? That you liked watching good people win? Here’s to that, in books and in real life too.”

He smiled at
her. “I
did
say that I like watching good people win. Your memory is better than you think.”

“My memory has
a mind of its own. I can remember the name of my second-grade teacher, but not where I parked the car.”

He scratched his
chin again. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t kidding. Your life seems very glamorous, at least to me it does.”

She tilted her
head to one side. “Says the man who just asked me if I took a nap today.”

He chuckled. “I
like that you make me laugh. Have I ever told you that?”

She speared another
brussels sprout and pointed it at him. “You may have, but with my memory, I probably forgot.”

“I like that
you make me laugh. Have I ever told you that?”

“Now you’re making
me
laugh. Actually, I’m glad that I can make you laugh in person. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m much better with the written word than in real-life conversations.”

“I wouldn’t say
that at all. I think you’re pretty great in both.”

She smiled and
put a hand to her cheek, which felt a bit warm. “Now you’re making me laugh
and
blush. If you think I’m funny, you should meet my brother. Once, in high school, we went to Denny’s, and he made Patti laugh so hard she passed out.”

“She really passed
out?”

Cassidy nodded and
picked up her water glass. “Right there on the floor. It was amazing. We had to call the paramedics.”

“Laughter is good.
I went a long time there without laughing.” A shadow flickered across his eyes, and she was startled by the sudden shift in his tone.

She didn’t respond
immediately, not sure how to do so. She assumed he was referring to his marriage, but she didn’t know what the appropriate reaction was. Or was he referring to something else?

Should she ask
him?

She took a
long sip of water, looking down, staring at nothing, saying nothing. Though the room was buzzing with lively chatter all around them, at that moment she felt as if the two of them were in a vacuum.

After an extended
and undeniably awkward pause, she lifted her gaze and regained eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, Brandon,”
she said in a near whisper.

As if sensing
the awkwardness between them, Pierre appeared out of nowhere to refill their water glasses. The interruption served its purpose, and Brandon seemed to recover from his momentary dip in mood.

“What’s your middle
name?” he asked.

She was surprised
by the question, which, after his dark comment, seemed more than a bit out of left field. But at least they were on a new subject, and she felt herself begin to relax.

“Leigh. It’s my
mother’s maiden name. What about you?”

“Dean.”

She tensed.

“Are you OK?”

She took a
sip of water. “I’m fine, I swear. It’s just that Dean was the name of my ex-boyfriend, so that caught me a little off guard. It’s not often you hear that name.” She forced a smile.

“Dean’s the guy
you told me about in New York?”

She nodded.

“I have to
wonder what he was thinking, letting you go like that.”

She smiled and
set her water on the table. “Thanks.”

“I’m just being
honest.”

“I could wonder
the same thing about your ex.”

“I have my
flaws, believe me. Divorced men aren’t easy.”

She wondered what
flaws could offset being so nice…and smart…and attractive. But instead of asking him to elaborate, she decided to take the conversation in a less hazardous direction. “I haven’t dated many divorced guys, but at our age I think meeting
anyone
to date is hard. Especially in New York City.”