company for the evening … she felt as if she’d stepped into a dream. She’d been out to dinner with attractive men at fine restaurants before, but this scene—this surreal heady feeling—was something else.
Retracting an upholstered bergère chair for her, Marco asked, “A wine menu this evening, Mr. Hunter?”
Cole rattled off the name of a vintage that Marco’s widening eyes hinted was exceptional. A moment later, the curtain was drawn and they were once again completely alone.
Enjoying the atmosphere despite herself, Taryn shifted in the chair, which was more comfortable than her sofa. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“You’d prefer an all-you-can-eat salad bar?”
With delicious aromas filling the air, her taste buds had already decided. She opened the menu. “Here will do nicely.”
And every one of those dishes listed without prices sounded divine. Still, she would keep in the forefront of her mind that this was not an occasion to forget herself. In fact, she might as well put this idle time to good use.
Having chosen her meal, she set her menu aside and extracted her laptop from her carryall. With a grunt of disapproval, Cole sat back.
“We won’t do that now.”
“I’d rather get to it before you have a drink or two.”
“I can assure you a couple of glasses of wine won’t affect my judgment.” His lips twitched. “You, of course, may be a different matter.”
“I’m not a giggler, Mr. Hunter.”
His frown returned. “And ditch the Mr. this and manners that. My name’s Cole. You call my father Guthrie, don’t you?”
“That’s different. We’re on friendly terms.”
“Really? Did he take you out to dinner?”
She almost gasped. She knew what he was implying. “Of course not.”
“Maybe you took him.”
She slanted her head. “You won’t put me off—Cole. If you want me gone from Hunters, you’ll have to drag me out, kicking and screaming.”
“Is that what happened at your last job?”
On the tabletop her fists curled. What would she bet he already knew?
At that moment, Marco arrived to serve wine and take orders, giving Taryn time enough to sort out her answer—and her temper. With Marco having left through the curtains again, she admitted, “I was let go from my last position.”
Wineglass midway to his mouth, Cole stopped. “Didn’t get along with your boss?”
“We got along great.”
“Ah.” He sipped, swallowed. “I see.”
She burned to set him straight, and in the bluntest of terms, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Upper management made the decision,” she said. “My direct boss was always good to me. Very much a father figure.”
“Seems you’re partial to them. Don’t you have one of your own?”
“A father?” Taking a long cool sip of water, she swallowed past the pit in her throat. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
Cole’s shoulders seemed to lock before he set down his wineglass and said in a lower tone, “We were talking about your previous employ.”
She explained about ending up the scapegoat for leaked information regarding those series ideas. Her plan had been to keep her story brief but Cole had a question for everything. He was quite the interrogator. Thorough and emotionless, as Roman had warned. Finally satisfied on that particular subject, he nodded.
“But you’ve landed on your feet,” he offered, finger-combing back a dark lock blown over his brow by a harbor breeze.
“Seems that will depend on you.”
“Or, rather, what you’ve got for me.”
At that moment, their meals arrived and Cole took the liberty of refilling her wineglass. She hadn’t realized she’d almost drained it.
“But I’m too damn hungry to focus,” he said, setting the wine back down. “Let’s eat.”
While they enjoyed their meals, small talk was difficult to avoid—general topics at first … the state of the industry, current affairs. When he asked, she let him know that Guthrie’s personal assistant had rung to apologize that regrettably he wouldn’t have time to welcome her into their fold properly that day. Then conversation swerved toward lighter subject matter about schools and interests growing up. Cole had served in the Navy Cadets with a friend who owned his own security firm now. He said that once he’d even wanted to become a high-seas officer. She’d grinned at that. Who would have guessed?
Cole changed the tone and the subject back to family. Almost finished with their meals, he spoke about his mother—just a few words, but they were said with such sincerity and affection, Taryn felt moved. More than instinct said that this was a side of Cole others would rarely see. His next question was obvious, and yet she’d been so caught up in ingesting this small taste of “human Cole” that she hadn’t seen it coming.
“Most daughters are close to their mothers,” he said. “Does yours live nearby? In town?”
Taryn’s stomach jumped but she forced the emotion down. She’d lived with the reality all her life. Woke up to it every morning. And still that empty sick feeling rose in a surge whenever she needed to say the words aloud.
She set down her fork. “My mother’s dead.”
His brows nudged together and he took a moment before responding.
“I’m sorry.”
Yeah. Where her mother was concerned, she was sorry about a lot of things.
But this wasn’t a first date. They weren’t here to analyze the past—how some were born to rule while others were left to build on crumbs. Still, the evening hadn’t been the disaster she’d half expected, although now was the time to gently but firmly reset some boundaries.
“I’d rather not discuss my personal life.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “I understand. I was only making conversation—”
“I know, Cole. That’s fine.” She pushed down those rising levels again and pasted on a reasonable face. “But we’re here because you wanted to eat. Let’s get that out of the way so we can get back to work.”
While Taryn set about consuming the remainder of her salad, Cole warred with himself. He understood this occasion was in no way a catch-up between friends or, God forbid, a night out for lovers. He had indeed been making polite conversation—and he’d ended up sticking his foot in his mouth once again. He knew about the pain of losing a parent, but how was he to know that Taryn
