Big Chicas Don't Cry(46)

“You know, we could just go back to the hotel and order room service,” I said when he pulled away.

He grinned and brought my hands to his chest. “I know you’ve been cooped up in that hotel room, and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t get away earlier. Tuck is a busy man, and we basically met in the back seat of a car as he was driven around town to all of the location sites. As much as I would love nothing more than to take you back to our room and ravage you, you are dressed for a night out, and a night out is what I’m going to give you. Besides, they’re already expecting us.”

“They?” I asked as he pulled me toward the restaurant.

“Yes. We’re having dinner with Tuck, his manager, his personal assistant, and, of course, Chris.”

I stopped walking. “Chris?”

He turned to explain. “Oh, that’s right—I didn’t tell you. I called him this morning and asked him to fly out after all. He arrived a few hours ago and is going to stay through Monday in case we don’t get through everything tomorrow. Now, come on. We already have a table.”

The restaurant was busy, and we had to squeeze through the crowd waiting near the hostess stand. I’d looked it up during the cab ride over and was excited about eating there. Although the Korean steak house had only been open for about a year, its rave reviews and celebrity clientele had made it quite the hot spot.

But when we finally cleared the crowd and arrived at our table, the last thing on my mind was food.

Esteban introduced me to Tuck and to Luca, his manager, and Darcy, his assistant. Chris stood, and I held my breath as he walked over to me. “It’s nice to see you, Marisol,” he said as he kissed my cheek. Then he pulled out the chair next to him and motioned for me to sit down. Esteban took the chair on the other side of me.

Grateful that someone had already poured me a glass of wine, I grabbed it and took a huge gulp.

Why hadn’t I stayed at home?

I did my best to join in the conversation during dinner, mainly answering questions about my thoughts on New York and my work with the homeless coalition.

“Yes, my Marisol is a busy woman. I don’t know how she does it all,” Esteban boasted after I’d told them about the firm’s charity gala in the fall.

My cheeks burned hot. “He exaggerates.”

“And she’s quite the baker too,” Chris chimed in. “I keep telling her she needs to open up her own catering business.”

I jerked my head to look at him. What on earth was he doing?

“Oh really?” Tuck said. “You know movie sets are always in need of good caterers. If you ever do decide to take the plunge, let me know, and I can give you some contacts.”

I’m sure my eyes must have popped out of my head. “Thank you so much, Tuck. That’s very nice of you.”

Esteban wrapped one arm across my shoulders. “Yes, thank you. It’s still a ways down the road, though. Marisol has some other priorities right now, don’t you, my love?”

I didn’t nod, but I didn’t argue either. And soon the conversation drifted to other things.

As I sat there pretending to listen, my stomach churned with unease. Why hadn’t I said anything?

Because it wouldn’t have made a difference. He might have pretended to be on board in front of these people, but you know his tune would change back home, and he’d find some way to convince you to put it off once again.

My heart pounded in my ears, and my throat became dry. If I didn’t get it together soon, I was going to have a full-blown panic attack. I mumbled an “Excuse me” and went in search of the ladies’ room. Fortunately, it was empty, and I began to pace back and forth. This trip had sounded like such a good idea, but it had definitely been a mistake. I couldn’t distract myself with baking here. I’d have to ride out my anxiety with deep breaths and a wet paper towel against my forehead. It took me a few minutes to calm down.

Finally composed, I walked out of the restroom and right into a waiting Chris.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“I’m fine, thank you. I need to get back.” I moved past him, but he held my elbow.

“Why didn’t you say anything else? Why didn’t you tell Esteban that the catering business is a priority?”

“Because it’s not and because this isn’t the place or the time to have that conversation.”

He shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh. “If you were my wife, I’d—”

“But I’m not,” I said and took his hand off my elbow. “Please, don’t start.”

Chris moved even closer, his face only inches away from mine. “I care about you, Marisol.” His voice was rough and deep, and his eyes raked through me like fire.

I couldn’t look away. And for a second, I wondered what would happen if I turned ever so slightly and lifted my lips.

Footsteps broke our trance, and an elderly woman entered the hallway. We broke apart to let her pass. It was the pause I needed to let sanity take hold and cool me down.

“Nothing can ever happen between us, Chris. You know that deep down. It’s better for both of us if you start to accept that.”

I hated the pained look that crossed his face before he reined it in. He didn’t say anything else and disappeared into the men’s restroom. I took a breath and walked back to my table.