Priceless(20)

When they turned toward the front of the building, rather than toward the cafeteria, she regarded him curiously. “I thought we were going to the cafeteria.”

“Not tonight,” he said tightly.

“We only have an hour,” she reminded him.

“Believe me, you have made the timetable abundantly clear. It may take a little finesse, but I will have you back at your desk in an hour.”

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of one of the hottest new restaurants in Washington. The gossip columns were filled with lists of society bigshots and power brokers who’d been turned away each evening. Mack had barely stopped the car, however, when the valet parkers converged, gave him a ticket and ushered Beth to the curb.

“I’ll need the car back here in front in fifty-five minutes,” Mack told the valet.

The man checked his watch, made a note on the ticket, then said, “No problem, Mr. Carlton. It’ll be here when you’re ready to leave.”

Inside the crowded foyer, Mack spoke to the maître d’ in a hushed tone that Beth couldn’t hear. Two minute later they were seated and practically no time after that two steaming meals were placed in front of them, along with a chilled bottle of sparkling water.

“Since you’re going back to the hospital, I took a chance that you wouldn’t want champagne,” Mack said.

Beth nodded slowly. “The water’s perfect.” She looked at the grilled salmon on her plate, the tiny Red Bliss potatoes with parsley, the perfectly steamed green beans, then lifted her gaze to Mack’s. “So is the meal. How did you manage this in…?” She glanced at her watch. “Less than five minutes.”

Mack shrugged. “No big deal. In a place like this, it’s all about who you know.”

“And you know the maître d’?”

“Among others,” he said.

“The owner?”

“Yes.”

Beth shook her head in amazement. “Given that crush of people out there waiting to get in, I know we took someone else’s reserved table. Are there other diners in here who are still waiting for these particular meals to appear?” she asked, glancing around worriedly.

He grinned. “Don’t feel guilty, sweetheart. They’re probably having wine to tide them over.”

“Probably?” She regarded him incredulously as the reality of the extremes to which he’d gone sank in. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it. “You really did steal someone else’s dinners? And you bribed them with a bottle of wine?”

“Not me,” he claimed with suitable indignation. “I never left your side.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Eat up, Doc,” he encouraged, clearly unwilling to be drawn into the discussion. “That clock of yours is ticking and I, for one, intend to have the crème brulée for dessert. I’d recommend the chocolate soufflé, but we’re a little short on time for that.”

“Unless, of course, some unwary couple already happens to have their order in,” Beth teased, not sure how she felt about a man who could snap his fingers and make this happen, apparently without offending anyone. In some ways, that was the most astonishing thing of all.

“Good point,” Mack said, and immediately beckoned for their waiter.

“Mack, don’t you dare,” Beth said.

“You’ll settle for the crème brulée?”

“I think that’s best,” she said, even though she was sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind and opt for the chocolate soufflé. “Otherwise we’re liable to start a riot.”

Mack grinned. “I guess it will be the crème brulée for dessert, John. Give us about twenty minutes, though, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Carlton.” He leaned down to whisper conspiratorially. “Of course, if you’re on a tight timetable, there’s a soufflé that should be ready in a half hour. I could put in another order for those diners and put this one in one of our takeout containers. Would that work?”

Mack glanced at Beth. “What do you say? Dessert at your desk?”

There were a lot of things in life that Beth could resist. Chocolate wasn’t one of them, and a warm chocolate soufflé just out of the oven had the power to smash her resistance to smithereens. There were many things she might not like about Mack, many more things about which she had serious reservations, but if he could get her that dessert, she was willing to forgive a lot.

Giving in to temptation, she said, “The chocolate, definitely.”

Mack regarded her with fascination as the waiter walked away. “Good to know,” he murmured, his gaze on her filled with heat.