Chloe inhaled, closing her eyes as the scents of ocean and haute cuisine mingled deliciously in her nostrils. “Mmm. Nothing more than smelling it is necessary.”
The door opened as they approached. A small, wizened man in a perfectly fitted dark suit said, “Welcome, Ms. Russell and Mr. Trainor. We’re so glad you could join us this evening.” His accent was pure Maine.
He turned and led them through a whitewashed foyer furnished with a round polished wooden table topped with a huge vase of fresh flowers. Arched doors led out to the dining area that held widely spaced tables covered in cream linen under large, gracefully curved pewter chandeliers. Although the effect was meant to be elegant simplicity, something about the sheen of the tablecloths and the brilliant sparkle of the glassware exuded a sense of no expense being spared. Chloe eyed a place setting as they passed a table and was relieved to see all the utensils were recognizable.
The ma?tre d’ led them to a table by one of the arched windows. Chloe suspected it was the most desirable view in the restaurant, since she could see the lights of the charming seaside town, as well as the pink, yellow, and orange of the sunset sky reflected and fractured on the waves of the sea. “It looks like a painting,” she breathed as Nathan waved their guide aside and held the chair for her.
“I timed it so we could arrive at sunset,” he said, his palms briefly caressing her shoulders. His touch sent a ripple of delight dancing across her skin.
He sat down across from her. As she turned from the view to look at him over the low bowl of flowers between them, she could barely catch her breath. His hair shone like burnished bronze; the planes of his lean face caught light and shadow like a sculpture; and the clear, masculine lines of his lips made her want to trace them with her fingertips. But it was his eyes that knocked her sideways. Their gray depths held brilliant intelligence, banked desire, and a focus that was entirely on her.
Nathan frowned as Chloe seemed to freeze when he looked at her. “Is everything all right?”
He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “Fine. It’s all fine.” She still looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“I’m not convinced.”
Chloe grabbed her water goblet and took a gulp. “Just a little overwhelmed.”
Nathan looked around the room, seeing nothing but tables, chairs, and white-painted walls. The pewter chandeliers were shiny but not ornate. “It’s just a restored seaport inn. Nothing fancy.”
Chloe made a small choking sound and held up her water glass, turning it so the crystal glittered with tiny rainbows. “It looks simple, but it’s the kind of simple that costs a lot of money.”
Her reactions were so different from other women’s. His previous dates pretended not to notice where he took them or how they got there, but he could always see the calculations going on behind their masks of indifference. Chloe was frank in her appraisal of what things cost, and faintly disapproving of extravagance.
“This place has the best lobster I’ve ever eaten,” he said. “That’s why I brought you here.”
The rigidity went out of her posture. She reached across the table toward him, her palm turned up. “And I appreciate that.”
He wrapped his fingers around her small hand, and suddenly the table was far too wide. He wished the Weather Vane Inn had banquette seating so he could pull her up against his side, feel the softness of her, breathe in her scent, and twine his fingers into the shining strands of her hair.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, because a blush climbed her cheeks and she tugged her hand free to fumble open her menu, breaking contact with his gaze to scan the inn’s offerings. He saw her eyebrows go up, and somehow knew she was noticing there were no prices on her menu. For once, she made no comment.
“Would you prefer mine?” he asked, offering it across the table.
“Sometimes ignorance is bliss.” She went back to studying the menu before she closed it. “In keeping with the theme of simplicity, I’m just going to have a salad and a lobster.”
“You have a choice of how many pounds. And butter or some other sauce.”
“No butter. I want to taste the lobster itself. How many pounds are you having?”
“I’d recommend two two-pounders. I think the meat is better in the smaller lobsters.” He was surprised she had asked for his recommendation. She generally had her own ideas about things. “May I choose our beverage?”
She nodded.
The moment he closed his menu, their waiter appeared at the table to take the order before he sent the sommelier over with the wine list. Nathan already knew what he was ordering, partly because he liked it with lobster, and partly because he knew it would horrify Chloe’s thrifty soul. He scanned down the wine list and said, “Bin thirty-three.”
“What’s in bin thirty-three?” she asked after the sommelier left.
“Dom Pérignon. It’s excellent with lobster.” He didn’t add that it was a highly valued vintage. She might refuse to drink it.