Finding Forever(40)

They pulled up in front of Il Buco, which Liam informed her was known as one of the most charming restaurants in New York. “It began as a rustic antique store,” he said, “and the place still attempts to give off that ‘vibe.’ Check out the furnishings.”

They passed American Primitive country tables and other antiques. Candles and kerosene lanterns lit the room with the help of artisanal chandeliers.

But Liam wanted to kick the romance up another notch, it seemed, because they were led to a flight of stairs. They descended into the cellar, where more candles burned, and the room was basically empty except for one table set up in the center and a waiter standing at the ready.

“This is perfect,” she almost gasped.

“I thought you might enjoy it,” Liam replied.

He pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit before moving across the table to his own seat. The waiter immediately showed Liam the wine menu. Liam chose one without delay, and he approved it in the classic fashion before a glass was poured for Whitney.

The night drifted away as they tasted cuisine inspired by Italy and the Iberian Peninsula, including bread and Umbrian olive oil, cast-iron-roasted Spanish octopus, mint crudo, and pan-roasted filet of Florida black bass.

The meal was as delicious as the company.

“Did you know that, according to legend, Edgar Allan Poe was a regular visitor to this area?” Liam told Whitney, “And some say that this very wine cellar was where he was inspired to write The Cask of Amontillado.”

“Are you making that up?” She was a major fan of Poe’s work, and to just be eating in the same place he’d once been in was a serious treat. Knowing that such a story might have been inspired in this very spot had her almost giddy.

“That’s what the legend says. No one knows for sure.”

“Oh, I’m going to think it true, then. I can’t wait to tell … ” But she couldn’t finish her sentence. Who did she really have to tell? That was an incredibly depressing thought, one that she didn’t want to have right now, not when her night had been so magical so far.

As if he knew what her thoughts were, he rose from his seat and moved over to the chair next to her, took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“I’m ecstatic that we both love that great American writer, troubled though he was.”

“Yeah, you either love or hate Poe. I don’t think there’s an in-between,” she said with a laugh. But the laugh turned into a sigh as he caressed her wrist with his thumb. But as she thought about that classic story, her eyes turned into slits.

“What’s the look for?” he asked.

“You do remember the plot of Poe’s story’s, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“Explain it, then,” she said.

He seemed to think about it a moment before deciding it couldn’t get him in any trouble to reply. He took a sip of wine before speaking, though, as if to let her know he was doing it on his own timeline.

“The short version is that it’s about a man taking revenge on a friend he believes insulted him,” he said. “But you know that.”

“Fatal revenge,” she reminded him. “Where the so-called friend is buried alive.”

“And don’t forget the story is being told from the murderer’s perspective,” he added.

“So are you telling me something by bringing me here? Am I your enemy?” She was only partially kidding when she lobbed that question at him.

“You are far from my enemy, Whitney,” he told her. “I would never bury you … though I might bury myself in you.”

“You think you’re amusing now, don’t you?” she said.

“I’m so many things — including amusing,” he told her.

“Fine. So what are your plans for me?”

“Here’s one — let’s leave. The night is still young.” Anticipation was evident in his voice.

“Yes, Liam.”

And she was saying yes to more than a ride. Maybe it was foolish, and maybe her heart would get broken — hell, that was more than just a maybe — but this night had been magical. Soon she would leave this world behind, and she wanted to take some memories with her.

He seemed to realize what she was telling him. He paid the bill, stood up, and escorted her from the restaurant. And she went along willingly. She refused to let doubts creep in on the journey home.

Her mind was made up.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Liam walked her to her bedroom door and then his lips were pressed against hers and he was twisting the knob, pulling away and gazing down into her eyes.

Why did men always do that? But it was working.