At two AM, they closed the bar down, but he was content to spend the rest of the night. He hadn’t laughed so hard in years.
The irritating buzz of his phone interrupted her suggestion of the local Adolphus hotel and a champagne brunch. He tugged the phone out of his pocket and recognized Damon’s number and offered her an apologetic look. He thumbed the phone to answer it. Damon Sinclair was the finest cook he’d ever had the privilege of serving with, considering the man could make potato soup taste like manna from heaven. He also wasn’t likely to call James at two-thirty in the morning without a damn good reason.
“Westwood.”
“Sorry to cut into your date, Doc. But I’m at the Fillmore with Matt and there was an incident.”
“The Fillmore?” The evening’s pleasure drained out of him, his mouth tightening. Matt wasn’t ready for bars and shouldn’t be off property yet. His gaze cut to the beautiful woman mouthing, ‘pub?’ and echoed the question into the phone. “The Fillmore Pub?”
“Yes, sir. Plano cops are here too, sir. I wouldn’t call, but Captain Dexter took his fiancée away for the weekend and….”
“No. It’s fine that you called. I’m on my way. Can you keep him cool until I get there?”
“Think so, sir.”
“I’ll be there in….” He glanced at her. She mouthed, fifteen. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
He rang off and mentally searched for an appropriate apology, but she shooed him out of the booth. He offered her a hand. She slid out and reclaimed the flat little purse he’d not seen on the opposite bench.
“I know where it is, so I’ll go with you and that way you can get there as soon as possible.”
“I’m sorry about this.” He felt like an ass, but the waitress appeared to take his credit card and a second brought a light wrap that James helped Lauren into. “I can use the GPS in the car.”
“Pfft. GPS. I grew up in Plano. I know exactly where the Fillmore is….” She hesitated, as though taken aback by a thought. “Unless I would be intruding.”
“Not at all. I just don’t know how long it will take and it’s a patient. I need to find out what’s going on.”
“Then I’ll go with you and I’ll wait. We can find breakfast somewhere.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. He definitely didn’t want to say goodnight, but without a better idea of what had gone down with Matt, he didn’t want to leave her hanging either.
“Tell you what, Marine. You owe me the rest of the night, but I am assuming you’re the kind of man who’ll let me choose how we spend it.”
“Absolutely, ma’am.” His eyes crinkled at the crisp notes her voice adopted.
“Then I want to spend it helping this patient of yours, and I expect you to accommodate me.” The combination of glitz, glamour, and gritty reality gave him his first true glimpse of the kind of woman she was, not just the woman she played in one of her movies. Combining the tough, no nonsense demand with the artless, charming dinner companion and he found it easy to nod.
He really didn’t want the night to end.
He signed the credit card slip and added a generous tip to the waitress’ gratuity. Lauren’s hand rested in the crook of his arm as they ascended the red velvet steps and exited into the cool September evening.
At the valet stand, he hesitated. She’d driven herself, but she plucked his valet ticket from his fingers. “You can bring me back or I can get a cab…just remember, you’ll have me at your mercy and I’m relying on you.”
The grin fighting past his concern won out and he nodded slowly. “You are in good hands and I will do everything in my power to live up to your trust.”
Her luminescent blue eyes warmed his soul. “I have every faith in you.”
He barely noticed the valet taking the slip or returning with his car. Taking care to settle her in the SUV, he slipped the young lady a twenty for bringing the vehicle so fast and paused for a heartbeat to fight the urge to fist pump.
Lauren sat in his car.
She wanted to spend time with him.
What an amazing woman.
“Seatbelt on?” He firmed his grip on self-control and slid into the driver’s seat.
The drive to the Fillmore took less than the fifteen minutes she’d advised, but her expert directions didn’t allow for a single wrong turn. Three black and white Plano police chargers were angled in the mostly empty parking lot, red and blue lights flashing. He spotted Damon first, talking to one police officer, and searched the stray pools of light for a sign of Matt. The younger man sat on a curb next to his car.