I have no idea what that’s about, but once in the car we head back into the heart of the city. Sandra called ahead to Prime & Tender—Croft International is a silent partner in the Michelin-starred restaurant—and so I know that the restaurant will pull out all the stops for us tonight.
I pull up to the curb on Boylston Street and the valet is there to help Emily out and take my keys. I guide her through the restaurant, lightly touching the small of her back, already wishing I could feel more of her.
This might be a long, torturous night.
I’m greeted by staff as we’re ushered back into the private room. When my hand leaves Emily’s back, I instantly feel the void.
We’re seated, napkins gently dropped in our laps. Emily is looking around the small space with a mix of curiosity and confusion, and I know why. She thought she’d agreed to dinner with me in a room full of strangers, but no way did I intend to spend my one evening with her being ogled at by other people. I want to keep this little treasure to myself for the evening.
“They keep this room for me,” I tell her. “It’s small, but I like it because it’s private.”
“You don’t like people seeing you eat or something?”
“It’s not that. I often have dinners or luncheons with high-level international clients, and I don’t need those meetings ending up in the business section of the Boston Herald. Keeping some things private is essential to my company.”
“So you can do your hostage takeovers?” Emily asks, her eyes steady and slightly hard on me.
“Everyone comes willingly,” I reply, enjoying the repartee. She’s already made me forget my troubles and we’ve only just begun.
“I’ll bet,” she says. She shifts in her seat and looks awkwardly around the room, like she doesn’t know what to do with herself.
“Good evening, Mr. Croft,” a voice says, and I turn to see Chef Barton walk through the door. “I’m so happy to have you here this evening.”
I stand up to shake his hand. “Thank you for having us. I’d like you to meet Emily Brown.”
Emily’s eyes dart between us, and she finally offers her hand. “You’re the chef? Oh, wow, um, nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” Chef Barton says. “Welcome to Prime & Tender. Mr. Croft has been a supporter of ours from the very beginning. We wouldn’t be the success we are without him.”
“It’s all in the genius of your food, Andrew,” I say. I sit back down.
“I have some wonderful options for you,” he continues. “Of course, the regular menu is available to you, or anything you desire. But for you both this evening, I recommend either the roasted lamb with fresh mint sauce or my signature five-spice seared yellowfin tuna that pairs perfectly with the Provence rosé.”
Chef Barton tells us about the other courses and I watch as Emily takes it all in. She looks a little lost at not having a menu to look down at, or maybe it’s the abundance of courses that’s got her thrown. Either way, it’s charming.
“I’ll send Rocco in to take care of you for the evening and get you started with some wine and your first course,” Chef Barton says. “Please enjoy your evening. I’ll check back with you later.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I tell him. Having him come in now is enough show for Emily. For the rest of the evening, I’d like to have her alone as much as possible.
Once Chef Barton has gone back to the kitchen, Rocco comes in with wine and our appetizer, which Rocco tells us is a canapé of wild smoked salmon with avocado.
“Did you decide on your entrees?” he asks. “Or would you like to see the menu?” He asks this to Emily—he knows I always order whatever Chef Barton recommends.
“You’ll love the roasted lamb,” I say to Emily. “It’s legendary; people fly in on private planes just to eat it.”
Emily is looking at the canapé as if she’s not quite sure if she should eat it or take a photo. “Oh, um,” she begins, looking between Rocco and me. “What were the choices?”
“Whatever you want,” I tell her. “The chef recommends the lamb. He also has a yellowfin tuna.”
“Or I could bring you our regular menu,” Rocco offers. “It’s seasonal, so only the freshest, most readily available foods are used.”
She looks up at Rocco. “I think I’ll have the yellowfin, please.”
“Very good,” Rocco says before leaving the room.
“Do you always eat like this?” she asks.
“Like what?” But of course I know what she means.