Amy pressed her palms against the window. 'I don't know if crazy is the right word, but I definitely feel as if I'm missing out on something. I've dreamed about exploring San Francisco for years, and now that I'm here I feel as if it's just outside my reach.' She turned to face him and flattened her back against his picture window. 'I want to ride on the cable cars-I don't want to watch them turn underneath me. I want to do the boat trip to Alcatraz and stand in the cells and feel the atmosphere of the place. I want to go down to Pier 39 and have my picture taken next to the Fisherman's Wharf sign. I want to go and explore Chinatown. I want to eat there, see the colours and smell all the wonderful food. I want to spend the day wandering around Fisherman's Wharf wondering what type of ice cream I want to eat next. I want to sit in some of the quayside restaurants and eat all the fish on the menu.'
Lincoln raised his eyebrow at her, folding his arms across his chest. 'You have been going crazy in here, haven't you? Why didn't you say something sooner?'
She sighed. 'You've been busy, Linc. The last thing you need to do is try and entertain an uninvited house guest.'
He shook his head. 'Why do you keep saying stuff like that?'
'Stuff like what?'
His brow was puckered again. 'Uninvited house guest.' He looked annoyed. 'You're not uninvited. I invited you.' He swung his arms wide, 'This is my home. I wanted you here.'
Amy licked her lips, as if she was preparing to say something. Her eyes were fixed on his again. And he could sense something. Something bubbling just underneath the surface, getting ready to erupt. The hairs stood up at the back of his neck, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. All of sudden he felt as the though the walls of his spacious apartment were starting to close in around him.
'Come on.' He extended his arm towards her, anxious to break the tension between them. 'You can pick wherever you like. Let's eat.'
The street was packed. The early evening tourists were crammed onto the sidewalks, reading menus and deciding what restaurant to eat in. Lincoln weaved seamlessly through the crowd and pushed open a heavy wooden door, holding it open until Amy was safely inside.
She blinked furiously, her eyes struggling to adjust to the gloomy interior, but Lincoln took her hand again and eased her through the dimly lit restaurant, pulling her into a wooden seated booth.
'I thought I was getting to pick?'
He rolled his eyes. 'If we'd waited for you to pick, we'd still be standing on the sidewalk at midnight, peering at menus.'
He handed her a plastic-coated menu. 'What do you want to eat?'
Amy looked around her. The gaudily decorated interior of fake wooden barrels and ship's wheels draped with Hawaiian garlands left her speechless. To say nothing of the life-size pirate standing the corner of the room.
'This looks like a bit of a tourist trap,' she mumbled, her eyes running over the menu in the hope it could redeem itself to her.
Lincoln leaned back in the booth, 'That's the beauty of this place,' he said, a smile plastered across his face. 'It looks dark and seedy. But it hides San Francisco's best-kept secret. My mate Johnny is the chef and he makes the best food in the world.' He leaned across the booth towards her. 'So what do you fancy?'
The English terminology made her blink, as did the double meaning. What she 'fancied' wasn't on the menu in front of her. But right now she couldn't even contemplate what she 'fancied'. Not while she currently felt like a beached whale.
Her tongue ran nervously along her lips, her eyes fixed on the plastic menu-because looking upwards would mean staring into those deep blue eyes and she couldn't face that right now. Junior gave another kick and she winced.
Lincoln's hand shot across the table and caught hers. 'Are you okay? Is something wrong?'
Yes, yes, something was wrong. Her brain couldn't focus. Her rational thoughts had left the building. She wanted to blurt out everything that was currently spinning around in her head. She wanted to tell him that she wished she'd called him six years ago when she'd got the cancer diagnosis. She wanted to tell him that she wished the baby she was currently carrying in her belly was his, instead of donor 867's. She wanted to tell him that she wished she'd had her surgery and her body looked normal again so she could finally stand and look at her naked reflection in the mirror again. She wanted to tell him that her back ached, her feet were sore and her headache was really starting to annoy her-but he'd just taken her out and the last thing she wanted to do right now was head back to the apartment. Because there it would just be the two of them. Alone.
Suddenly the grubby-looking restaurant didn't seem so bad. At least there were other people around.
A man appeared and slapped Lincoln on the shoulder. 'Who's the lovely lady, Linc? And why haven't you introduced me?'
Lincoln smiled. He seemed relaxed and easy in here and the tension that had been between them seemed to have left his tightened shoulders. He held his hand out towards Amy. 'This, Johnny, is my good friend Amy Carson. She's never sampled the delights of your cooking, so I hope you're going to impress her-otherwise she'll bend my ear all night for bringing her to such a dive.' He gave her a little wink across the table.
Johnny laughed. A deep, hearty laugh that seemed to come from all the way down at his toes. 'Impress? Me? Once I've fed this lady, she'll never look at you again, Linc.' He bent his head and picked up Amy's hand, kissing it with a flourish. 'So, beautiful, what can I get you?'
Amy looked back at Linc in panic. She hadn't even read the menu properly yet.
Lincoln pointed towards her. 'Why don't you decide for us, Johnny? Only be careful what you give my pregnant friend, we're hoping to avoid an early labour.'
Johnny's eyes turned to where Amy's extended abdomen was tucked neatly under the table in the darkened booth. He beamed. 'Congratulations, beautiful lady. I'm sure I can rustle something up that will delight your little bambino.'
He wandered back off to the kitchen and left the two of them sitting in the booth. Amy held her breath. Johnny was obviously a friend; would he assume the baby was Lincoln's? Or was her imagination just making wild leaps?
She could be a colleague from work, a neighbour, an old friend from school. There was no reason for Johnny to think anything else. So why was half of her hoping that he was?
Her stomach growled loudly. 'So what am I going to get to eat, Linc? With my current busy lifestyle, food is becoming a very important part of my day.'
Lincoln smiled at the lilt in her voice. This was the Amy he remembered. A bit cheeky, with a definite sarcastic edge. Not the nervous and uptight woman he'd spent the last few days with.
'I think I can safely say you'll get a feast fit for a king.'
'Or a queen?' The teasing tone was apparent.
'Ouch. Yes, or a queen.' He rested his head on his hands. 'What did Cassidy say today?'
Amy could feel the smile drop from her face. Why was it the mere mention of that woman's name automatically put her hackles up? Cassidy had only ever been pleasant and professional to Amy, but Amy could see the way Cassidy looked at Lincoln-even if he couldn't. His easy flirtatious manner was coming back to bite him on the …
'Nothing's changed. I've to go back tomorrow for more of the same.'
Lincoln leaned back and looked at her face. She looked vaguely irritated, as if she was annoyed. Surely, at this stage, no news was good news?
'So what's with the long face?'
Amy took a deep breath. This was where she should play the nice house guest. Happy, amenable and anxious to please.
Except these pregnancy hormones were driving her nuts. Her aching back was driving her nuts. Living under the same roof as Lincoln was driving her nuts. And seeing some gorgeous, statuesque blonde looking at Lincoln, her Lincoln, the way that woman did was driving her nuts.
She opened her mouth to speak just as Johnny reappeared and slid the biggest platter known to man onto their table. Grilled shrimp, Dungeness crab, scallops and crab cakes with rice and salad on the side. Then another plateful with grilled chicken, peppers, onion, a bowl of ratatouille and some garlic bread. Johnny folded his arms across his chest. 'Before you start, I know all of this is high in Omega 3 and can assure you it's all completely fresh and fully cooked. No tuna, no tilefish, no mackerel. All safe for a pregnant lady.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'But I also made you some chicken and garlic bread in case you were a little wary.'
Amy's face relaxed as the wonderful smell of freshly cooked fish wafted towards her. Her smile lit up her face. 'Johnny, how can a girl come to Fisherman's Wharf and not sample the Dungeness crab?'
She lifted her napkin from the table and spread it across her bump. 'Not the most glamorous, I know, but I'd hate to ruin these gorgeous clothes that you stole for me from the First Lady.'
Lincoln laughed as he pulled a plate towards him and started lifting some food from the platter. The maternity clothes had been a godsend. Today Amy was wearing a deep purple smock, which complemented her red hair and pale skin perfectly. In fact, every time he saw her she had a different outfit on. He had the distinct impression that the First Lady had known exactly the impact her 'cast-off' clothes would have. Brownie points. Big time. 'I didn't steal them. She wanted you to have them. And it's obvious you're making good use of them-that's what she wanted.'