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“I did,” she beamed, glad she’d remembered her favorite recipe. “I use grape seed oil instead of olive oil. It makes for a less pungent flavor.”
Conversation through the salad course was light, like the dish, as they discussed food preferences. When the salad was finished, Linda placed the dish of spaghetti in the center of the island.
“Help yourself,” she said.
“Mm!” He smacked his lips. “This looks almost as good as you do.”
She grinned. “Thanks, but I can assure you it tastes a lot better.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
Her smile faltered under his intense gaze. Her skin burned as though she were suddenly feverish.
At her feet, Pirata twined around her legs, but she nudged him gently aside. He’d already been fed and she didn’t want any distractions right now.
“It’s delicious, the best I’ve ever eaten,” Gerard said after he tasted the pasta. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“At home when I was a child. We had an excellent cook. Sofia taught me everything I know.”
“I’ve always been a fan of Italian cuisine. It has thatje ne sais quoi,just like Italian women. My mother always urged me to find a nice Italian girl.”
“And you haven’t succeeded?” she joked.
“I have now,” he murmured softly, his tone serious.
Linda hadn’t been sure what to expect from this date, but it was becoming obvious that sooner or later thedessertshe’d pined for might become a reality. Was she ready for it?
In the back of her mind, a voice urged caution that things were moving too fast, but then she got lost in Gerard’s eyes once more and forgot all about being nervous.
“How did your meeting with Jane Orwell go?” He forked more spaghetti into his mouth.
“Better than I expected.”
She described the meeting, unable to hide a little devilish smile when she explained how she’d implied she might withdraw her financial support if Orwell didn’t agree to what Linda had proposed.
He laughed and sipped his wine. “I wish I’d been there.MadameOrwell hoisted on her own petard. She must’ve been livid.”
“She was. But I don’t care. I meant every word of it. If you choose to open your own clinic, Gerard, I’ll be happy and honored to back it financially for you. You shouldn’t have to put up with prissy bitches like Jane Orwell.”
“Thank you for the generous offer, Linda, but no.” His expression was polite but inflexible. “I appreciate your kindness immensely, but I could never take money from you. It would feel as if I were taking advantage of you, of our connection, and what I hope will be a long friendship. That’s out of the question. If push comes to shove, I do have resources of my own—some savings, a few investments. With a business loan, I could pull it off, but right now, let’s wait and see what happens at HOPE. I’m not willing to give up on it yet.”
She smiled. “Neither am I, but the offer stays on the table.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. Now, let’s talk about something else,” he said, then asked her if she’d seen the latest Hollywood movie.
As they talked, they discovered they had a lot in common. Neither of them was a big fan of TV, although Gerard did like watching sports, but they both enjoyed good movies—not the slasher type—and as it turned out, liked to listen to classical music. While Linda needed music when she worked, Gerard could only focus in perfect silence.
“If I’m focused and someone breathes next to me, it sounds like a tempest roaring in my ears.” He chuckled. “It throws me right off, and I have to go back several steps before I can start again.”
“I can’t understand that. I hate the silence, except when I’m sleeping. I need sound around me all the time to remind me I’m alive.” She stood to clear the empty dishes. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have time to make an Italian dessert.”
“There’s no need to apologize. Dinner was amazing. Besides, I’m not sure I could eat anything else anyway.”
She smiled, narrowing her eyes foxily. “Not even a portion of Crème Brûlée? Because although I didn’t make it, I did buy some. It’s imported from France.”
His grin was bright enough to light up the entire city. “You’re too good to be true. Crème Brûlée is my favorite dessert.”
“It won’t take but a minute.”
