All They Need(45)

“The Lexington Hotel?”

“That’s the one. Can you get me a table for two for twenty minutes from now?”

“What about your one o’clock?”

“I’ll move it.”



He sent an email to reschedule his one o’clock, then grabbed his jacket and wallet and headed for the door.

“I’ll see you later, Mary,” he said as he breezed past her desk.

She looked astonished. Probably because he almost never had lunch, unless it was a business meeting. He took the lift to the underground garage and walked up the ramp to where the guest parking was located. He’d been waiting barely a minute when Mel pulled in. She saw him and gave him a confused little wave before driving into a parking spot and turning off the engine.

“What are you doing down here?” she asked as she unfolded her tall body from the car. She was wearing dark jeans and a black turtleneck beneath a short red woolen coat, her hair loose over her shoulders.

She looked great.

“Waiting for you in case you tried to bail on my lunch offer.”

She frowned and he pointed a finger at her.

“Tell me it didn’t cross your mind.”

Her expression became a little sheepish.

“Busted,” he said.

“You don’t have to take me out to lunch just because I’m dropping off your car.”

“I know I don’t. Come on, we’re having Spanish in St. Kilda.”

He plucked the keys from her hand. She hesitated a moment before circling the car to the passenger door.

“Nothing fancy,” she said. “I’m not dressed for fancy.”

“It’s lunch and it’s Spanish. Jeans are fine.”

She slid into the car and reached for her seat belt.

“How did Gertie behave?” he asked as he reversed out of the parking spot.



“Like a dream. It’s a beautiful car. Some people might say too beautiful to have such an ugly nickname.”

“She’s earned that nickname, don’t you worry,” he said as they shot up the ramp and out into the street. “The number of times she’s broken down on me…”

She gave him a curious look. “Maybe you should get something more reliable then.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would mean admitting defeat. Besides, we all have our flaws, right?”

He could feel her watching him and he took his eyes off the road to glance at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shifted her gaze to the front.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said. “This place is supposed to be good.”

“I could eat.”

They talked about her garden for the remainder of the short drive. Flynn found a parking spot close to their destination and ushered Mel into what looked like an old-school pub. Inside, however, the building had been gutted. The traditional wood bar and sticky carpet had been ripped out and replaced with concrete everything. The floor was polished concrete, while huge feature concrete arches marched down one side of the room, and on the other side a vast concrete bar dominated the space. The seating was equally modern—white Saarinen tulip chairs with alternating acid-yellow and hot-pink cushions—and the art on the walls was edgy and abstract, with big slashes of black with dripping red and more acid-yellow.

It was incredibly noisy and filled with a laughing, well-dressed crowd—trust-fund kids who didn’t have to work, minor celebrities and businesspeople who still had time for long lunches. Not exactly the venue he would have chosen for what he hoped would be an intimate lunch with Mel.

A thin, austere-looking woman approached, arching an eyebrow. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone implying she would prefer to do anything but.

Flynn had been eating in places like this since he was in short pants and he ignored her attitude. “Table for two. Under the name of Randall.”

She perked up predictably at the mention of the R word and they were soon being whisked to a small side table. It was only when he was seated opposite her that he saw how tense Mel was. Her gaze bounced around the room uneasily, and when the waitress returned with their menus she ducked her head and murmured her thanks.

He frowned, watching her rather than the waitress as the other woman launched into a lengthy rundown of the day’s specials and the wine list. Mel made a show of listening, but he could tell she’d tuned out.