Marco seemed to enjoy watching her too and, as he whisked out her table napkin and set it on her lap, he sent Logan a silent, wide-eyed, Wow!
Logan had to remind himself that this wasn’t a real date. He was only bringing Sally here because he owed her for the lessons.
It helped to remember that Sally wasn’t his type. She was warm and generous and lovely—distractingly lovely tonight in her little black dress—but she was also an idealist and a hopeless romantic.
Until he’d achieved his long-term business goals, he simply couldn’t afford to become entangled with a girl like her. Tonight, he would be polite and distant, offering courtesy and friendliness, but extra careful to keep everything on a strictly business level.
‘This is a gorgeous restaurant.’ Sally smiled her approval as she took in details of the clean and restrained décor, the crisp white tablecloths, the pale timber floors and modern lighting.
‘The chef here is superb,’ he told her, sending a salute to the busy open-plan kitchen. ‘He’s French, but the menu is very cosmopolitan and there’s always a good selection.’
Sally studied the menu carefully and her brow furrowed more deeply as she progressed.
Logan wondered what was wrong. Carefully, he asked, ‘Does anything there take your fancy?’
‘It all sounds lovely, but everything’s so expensive. The fee for one dancing class might buy me a bowl of soup, but not much more.’
Good grief. Was she serious?
He caught a wicked gleam in the china-blue eyes watching him over the menu and knew she was teasing, was surprised by how much this delighted him.
‘Let me see,’ he said, poker-faced. ‘I’d estimate that this dinner should cover the cost of one, maybe two lessons.’
Lowering her gaze to the menu, Sally replied serenely, ‘But we’d better not have wine. That would push the price way too high.’
‘Unless you escorted me to the ball as well.’
The menu slipped from Sally’s hands as quickly as the colour left her cheeks. ‘You can’t mean that.’
She was right. Logan couldn’t believe he’d made such a reckless suggestion. He was never impulsive!
‘Look,’ he said, exasperated by his inability to remain sensible and composed in this woman’s presence, ‘let’s forget about the ball for now. It’s Friday evening and it’s getting late and we’re hungry. I’d like to enjoy a pleasant meal and I’ve invited you to share it with me. Let’s leave it at that.’
‘Right,’ Sally said with surprising meekness.
He thought he’d dampened her spirits then, so he was relieved that they enjoyed a very pleasant evening. The meal began with an excellent vichyssoise soup, followed by a schnitzel pan fried with parmesan for Sally, who thought it was ‘fabulous’, while Logan had a superb Greek lamb dish. For dessert he chose a chocolate pot and Sally a light lemon tart.
While they ate, they talked sensibly about places they’d visited, books they’d read and movies they’d seen. Logan found himself laughing at some of Sally’s witty observations and there were times when he had to remember to stop smiling. But for the most part they shared a safe and impersonal conversation. He thanked heavens that Sally had got the message that this was payment and not a date.
The only hiccup arrived with their coffee, when the dashing French chef, Michel, brought an extra coffee cup and joined them at their table.
Michel was an old friend of Logan’s and he’d developed a ritual of sharing coffee with him towards the end of the evening, when the pace in the kitchen slowed and could be dealt with by minions. Logan usually enjoyed his friend’s company.
But tonight, Michel, with his Frenchman’s love of romance, took a long look at Sally and Logan knew there’d be trouble.
The chef’s dark eyes flashed a thousand fervent signals as he bent low to kiss Sally’s hand. ‘Enchanted to meet you, mademoiselle,’ he murmured in his sexiest accent.
Sally was incredibly flattered, of course, and Logan struggled with a ridiculous urge to tell his good friend to get lost.
‘You’re a sensational chef,’ Sally told Michel. ‘The food tonight was divine.’
Michel pressed a melodramatic hand to his heart. ‘My constant inspiration is the knowledge that a beautiful woman like you will be eating my food.’
Sally laughed and then she shot Logan a telling glance. ‘I guess you must come here often.’
‘My friend has superb taste,’ Michel said, giving Logan’s shoulder an enthusiastic thump.
‘And I dare say he provides you with lots of inspiration,’ Sally suggested silkily, ‘via his companions.’