Indivisible Line (12 page)

“Why?”

“Because we need to eat, and I have to get out of this hole sometime. Anyway, you have no classes today.”

Sarah considered his invitation for a moment.

“We’re not going on a date, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Just when he thought she’d decline, she nodded her head. “Okay. What time should I be ready?”

“I’ll make a reservation for seven o’clock. Be ready at six-thirty. Wear a dress?”

Sarah gawked at him as if he’d lost his mind, but she was quick to rearrange her expression. “O—kay.” She chewed her upper lip before returning to her spot on the sofa.

At the agreed-upon time, Sarah appeared in the living room wearing an awesome number that made Greg stare longer than he’d intended. The white dress with its low-cut cowl neckline showed a modest amount of skin and complemented her brown skin just right. The contrast, in his opinion, made her delicate beauty stand out. Her hair had been swept into a loose, intricate ponytail, which made her long neck look more graceful. Her gold sandals complimented the dress perfectly.

“You clean up well.” Greg meant it as a compliment, but the words came out wrong. God, you’d think he would have more finesse, given his years of experience with the opposite sex. Something about this girl made him say the dumbest things. He wanted to smack himself in the head the next moment.
Who says those things to a beautiful woman?

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Now they were even.

“Shall we?”

Sarah nodded and turned for the door. Just before they cleared the doorway, she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes calculating. “Just because I agreed to dinner doesn’t mean I trust you, Gregory Andrews.”

Greg tilted his head in acknowledgment and invited her to proceed with a sweep of his hand. She continued on her way, and he followed close behind, clutching his cane. He hoped for a stumble-free evening, both literally and figuratively.

Chapter 8

The moment they arrived at Le Bernardin, they were whisked to a reserved table for two. It was obvious the minute they walked in that Greg was a well-liked customer and a regular patron of the restaurant. They were treated like VIPs, and the deference the staff paid to Greg was over-the-top.

Sarah felt a bit out of her element. Well, make that
way
out of her element. She should’ve known Greg would choose an expensive and chic restaurant as opposed to what she’d been accustomed to in the past. Burger joints and fast food restaurants were her sole experience with dining out, being the only affordable option. Fine dining was never a possibility in the Jones household. So yeah, this was another first for her.

“Are you okay?” Greg eyed her, something akin to worry lacing his expression.
 

Sarah had often wondered if this was just an act. He had told her that he wanted to hate her. Now, he offered a tentative smile, and it seemed like he had no idea what to say. That made him more real and down-to-earth, rather than the rich snob she thought him to be. In all honesty, looking at him now in the soft glow of the candlelight, he was handsome in his dark blue blazer and ribbed, white cotton T-shirt, a perfect and very attractive Romeo.
 

It wouldn’t be right to flirt with him, because as attractive as she might find him, they were nothing alike.

“Yes.” Catching herself fidgeting, she clasped her hands together and rested them on her lap.

“Would you like something to drink? A bottle of wine, perhaps?”

Sarah hesitated. She’d been to a few sorority parties during her undergrad years, but they’d always served beer. The most exotic drink she’d had to date was rum and Coke.
How funny is that?

“I . . . haven’t . . . okay, wine is fine,” she stammered and glanced around, feeling self-conscious.

Greg waved to a server and requested the wine list. When the man reappeared with a thick leather-bound book, Sarah’s eyes widened. All she knew were red, white, and E. & J. Gallo, the latter being a brand she often saw on the shelf of their local grocery store.

Before Greg opened the bible of wine drinkers, he looked up. “Any preference? Bordeaux? Burgundy?”

Now he’s talking gibberish.
Sarah shook her head. “Anything you want is fine with me.” That would be the safest answer from an ignoramus like her. She bet Lily would get a kick out of this story when she told her friend.

Greg flipped through the pages, and it appeared that he already knew what he wanted. In the faint light in the room, she caught him smiling while his eyes skimmed the list. “We’ll have the Chateau Lafite Rothschild Cabernet Sauvignon.” He closed the bible and handed it back to their server.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Andrews,” the server commented, but instead of walking away to fill their order, he cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I wonder if I may check your companion’s identification, sir.”

Greg was taking a drink of his water and spluttered at the unexpected question. Sarah busied herself, hiding her embarrassment by rummaging through the little gold clutch she’d decided to use for the evening. Her cheeks were burning by the time she pulled out her identification card.

“Here you go.” She presented her driver’s license with a smile.

The man glanced at her picture and back at her. He checked her birth date before returning her card with a grin. “I’m sorry, Miss Jones, but you look quite young. I had to check.”

After their server left, Sarah replaced her card in her wallet and returned her attention to Greg. He appeared rather uncomfortable. She leaned closer and whispered, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Greg leaned forward. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Did his question bother you?”

He hesitated. “A bit, I guess. I feel like a cradle robber coming here with a beautiful teenager.”

She couldn’t help herself from asking, “How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-five,” he replied in a gruff tone, meeting her inquisition head-on. His blue eyes showed a mixture of anxiety and irritation.

Not too old
, Sarah thought. She wondered which part made him uncomfortable. Was it that he was older or just that she’d asked? Greg must have known how old she was, considering he had taken the liberty of rearranging her life.

“You’re not too old.” She smiled at him.

“What does that mean?” He inclined his head. The blushing radiance of the candle’s glow hit his face, highlighting the angular planes of his features.

“Nothing. You have accomplished quite a lot at a very young age,” she commented, and he flushed. Good thing he wasn’t wearing a tie—she imagined he’d be tugging at it by now.

Greg ignored her comment and picked up the menu. “Let’s order.”

Sarah decided not to press. If he found the statement offensive, he should’ve said so. She had nothing against honesty, but to each his own, right? Picking up the menu, she began to turn the pages.
French? Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

Geoduck, Foie Gras, Skate. Her eyes widened at the prices. Nervous, she kept leafing through the menu until she found a less expensive option she could live with—pasta.

Sarah had never imagined ordering dinner could be a taxing experience until then. She glanced around and noted the crowd with unease.

The sommelier came back with their wine, a big grin on his face. A stout man with a big belly, he presented the bottle to Greg with a flourish. Greg, in turn, scrutinized the label and placed his hand on the bottle like he was caressing it. After the cork had been removed, the wine expert poured a small amount into Greg’s glass through an odd-looking funnel. Greg lifted it to his face, and Sarah watched with open interest while he took his time to first inhale deeply and then take a sip, rolling it along his tongue.

He nodded to the sommelier, appearing pleased with his selection. The wine steward started pouring the thick, red liquid into her glass before adding more to Greg’s. She picked up the wide-mouthed, round glass to take a sip, when Greg coughed a little and lifted his glass to her. Embarrassed, Sarah pretended to sniff the bouquet before tilting her glass in Greg’s direction, just like she’d seen many times on television.

“Here’s to a fabulous year for you at Columbia.” He smiled and gave her glass a gentle tap with his.

The statement confused her, but she said nothing. Instead, she replied with a dazzling smile and brought the glass to her lips. The first swallow came as a shock. The foreign taste made her want to spit out the wine, but she held herself in check. There was no need to embarrass herself and Greg.

After their orders were taken, she began to relax, loving the warming effect of the wine in her system. It made her feel like she could chat all night.

“So, tell me about yourself,” she said. If Greg knew everything concerning her life, then she needed to catch up and get some juicy tidbits about him, too.

“Can we not talk about me? Let’s talk about you.” He took a long and satisfying sip of his wine.

“You know everything about me already. You stalked me, remember?” She raised a brow, challenging him to deny it.

Greg shook his head, as if telling her not to go there. He sighed before offering a small amount of information about himself. “I’m an only child. I have an undergraduate degree from NYU, and I took my master’s at Wharton’s.”

“Impressive.” Wharton was one of the most prestigious business schools in the country. Sarah took another sip of wine. “Any other interesting information you want to share with me?”

“That’s about it. As I said—”

“Gregory, honey!” A sultry, female voice cut him off mid-sentence.

They both looked in the direction of the interruption but not before Sarah caught a glimpse of Greg’s grim expression.
 

The woman approaching them looked like someone who had just walked out of a fashion magazine. She was tall, leggy, glamorous, and gorgeous—the kind of woman who made women like Sarah seem insignificant.

The blonde bounded toward them with her straight, glorious hair bouncing on her shoulders. She stopped in front of Greg and held out her perfectly manicured hand. Sarah watched Greg’s face turn murderous, his jaw clenching and his mouth curled into a vicious smile.

“Cassandra.” He ignored her outstretched hand and leaned back on his chair, clutching his glass of wine.

“Oh, c’mon, honey. Haven’t you got a kiss for me?” She pouted her plump lips at him.

Sarah watched the scene unfolding before her with curiosity. Who was this woman that could make him so uncomfortable and edgy?

Greg ignored the woman’s request. “Cassandra, I have nothing to say to you.” His voice had become chilling and detached.

“Oh, pooh. Why are you always so glum, darling?” She reached her hand out and tipped his chin upward.

“We have nothing to talk about.” Greg angled his face away from Cassandra and sent an apologetic glance in Sarah’s direction.

It was something he shouldn’t have done, in Sarah’s opinion. She’d rather the woman left without paying her any notice. She and Ms. Fashionista had nothing to say to each other.

“Oh . . .” The woman turned in Sarah’s direction and gave her a quick visual check. “Who do we have here? Aren’t you going to introduce your wife to the little girl?”

At that point, Greg stood and pulled the woman by the elbow, but his blue eyes remained on Sarah. “Sarah, I want you to meet my very-soon-to-be ex-wife, Cassandra.” He turned his icy blue eyes to the woman while Sarah tried to mask her shocked reaction. “Leave now before I call security and have you thrown out for being a public nuisance.”

Cassandra laughed, a high-pitched melody filled with unconcealed pleasure. “I’m hardly that, my dear. Until the divorce is signed, sealed, and delivered, you and I are still married. I hope you didn’t forget to tell your little friend about me.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sarah’s bewildered expression and laughed again. “Oh, you forgot, right? Pity.”

“Leave now, Cassandra.” Greg’s tone brooked no contention. He had the look of a man about to explode.

“Okay, fine. It was nice seeing you, Greg and . . . Maria.” Cassandra gave a dramatic wave of her delicate hand and walked away.

“I’m sorry about that.” Greg flopped back into his chair and raked his fingers through his hair. His expression remained dark while he searched Sarah’s face.