I watched amused as Trisha rushed around getting ready, primping as if she were getting ready for dinner with the Queen of England. By the time seven-thirty rolled around, we were both ready for a fun night out.
"I told you that dress looked gorgeous on you," I commented, giving Trisha the once-over. She was wearing a deep blue dress that made her eyes seem even brighter and clung to her body in all the right places. She had been an avid exerciser ever since college and it showed in her lean lines.
I was more sedately dressed in a black sheath that reached mid-thigh, cinched at the waist with a thin grey leather belt. Trisha looked at me admiringly.
"I'd kill for your curves."
"What is it with women?" I asked, shaking my head. "We're never satisfied with what we have. Here I was wishing that I was as fit as you." I grinned at Trisha. "Let's just pronounce us both ravishing beauties and leave it at that."
"Deal," she said, linking her arm with mine. The trip downstairs in the elevator was quick since I was only on the fifth floor. I greeted the doorman, who had earlier insisted that I call him Harry, and hailed a cab outside. Even though the restaurant was on the other side of town, traffic was relatively sparse and we got there quickly.
"We have a reservation for two at eight o'clock for Emma Mills," I told the maitre d' once we arrived.
"Of course," he said graciously. "Right this way, Ms. Mills."
Trisha and I trailed behind him as I surveyed the dining room, marveling at how impeccably decorated it was. I enjoyed expensive restaurants, but I tended not to indulge too often. The responsible side of me protested against spending hundreds of dollars for one meal.
"Have a wonderful evening, ladies," the maitre d' said after he had pulled out our chairs and we had settled in. Trisha leaned over towards me immediately after we had opened our menus.
"What the heck is this? It just says random stuff like beef, veal and celery. How am I supposed to order something that just says celery? A celery what? A celery puree? A celery soup? Am I going to get a stalk of celery on a fancy plate?"
I couldn't help laughing at Trisha's affronted expression. "I told you about the menu before. They just list the main ingredient of each dish without telling you how it's prepared. That way, it's a surprise when you get it. Just pick one out of each category, sit back and enjoy."
Trisha didn't look too happy about the menu setup, but she didn't utter another word of complaint although I knew she wanted to interrogate the waiter about how the dishes were prepared when he took our order.
"This is the life," Trisha said with a sigh, leaning back into her chair as she took a sip of the wine we had ordered. Apparently, the transgression of the sparsely descriptive menu had been forgotten. "I wish I could spend every day shopping and eating in swanky restaurants."
"I think it would get boring pretty fast. There's only so many things you can buy and so many plates of foie gras you can eat."
"Speak for yourself. Didn't you know that you can never be too thin or too rich?"
I didn't answer as I turned towards a commotion at a table across the restaurant. There were a couple of people hovering over the table and the maitre d' seemed to be trying to shoo them away.
"What's going on over there?" Trisha asked, craning her neck.
"I don't know, but the maitre d' looks like he's about to blow his top."
Trisha sucked in her breath sharply as I froze when the maitre d' succeeded in pulling the people away from the table. I was able to get a good look at the occupants of the table and my heart stopped as I saw Jackson sitting there, as plain as day. I blinked my eyes comically, as if I were seeing a mirage and expecting it to disappear.
"Crap," Trisha said softly, obviously having seen Jackson as well. I whipped my head towards her, but all I saw was Jackson's profile in my mind. His dark brown hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking the straight line of his nose or the soft kissable mouth. I didn't need him to turn towards me to know that his eyes would be piercing green.
I breathed in deeply, trying to slow my erratically beating heart. I had always imagined what it would be like to see Jackson again. I would greet him with nothing but scorn and he would drop to his knees, telling me he had make the biggest mistake of his life. I would then laugh in his face and leave him with a bleeding heart. Just like he had left mine.
But I knew I was kidding myself. Jackson was no longer the man I had fallen in love with five years ago, the man who had made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. He was now Jackson Reynard, heartthrob and movie star who dated leggy starlets like Candace Stile.
"Sometimes it seems like I can never catch a break," I said with a wry smile, not wanting Trisha to know how much seeing Jackson had affected me. "My first day back in New York and I have to see Jackson."
"Do you want to leave?" Trisha asked in a low voice. "We can try to get out of here before he sees us."
I shook my head. I wasn't running away from Jackson. I had as much right to be in this restaurant as he did. "No. We're going to enjoy our dinner and forget that we saw him. He didn't see me and I doubt he'd notice anyone outside his rarefied circle of celebrities."
Despite my brave words, I made a point of not turning in Jackson's direction again because I was fearful that it would draw his attention. It was most likely an irrational fear because he was probably used to ignoring stares, but I didn't want to tempt fate. Trisha made a concerted effort to talk about anything besides Jackson. She chattered endlessly about the food, dissecting each dish and trying to guess the ingredients. I went along with it, pretending to rave about the food. In reality, I didn't taste anything I put in my mouth, the shock of seeing Jackson overtaking everything, even my taste buds.
We paid our bill with relief and I was grateful that we had gone unnoticed. We made our way quickly out of the dining room and into the lobby of the restaurant.
"Have a good evening, ladies," the maitre d' said with a smile. We were about to open the door when I felt a hand on my elbow, firmly pulling me back. I turned around slowly, my heartbeat ratcheting so quickly and loudly that I was sure everyone could hear it. Even though I had a good idea of who it was, I was unprepared to see Jackson's face up close. I stared up at him, his piercing green eyes pinning me in place. He was every bit as beautiful as I remembered, and every bit as handsome as his movie posters portrayed him. But he no longer looked like the man who had swept me off my feet. His lips were set in a thin line and his eyes were cold as they gazed at me. The boyish charm had been replaced with a glacial intensity.