Devil's Food by Janice Weber Page A

there: Interruptions would almost be welcome.
    “Excuse me,” he said, “but are you Philippa Banks, the movie star?” She smiled affirmatively. “May I please pretty please
     have your autograph? You’re my favorite actress of all time. I’ve seen all your movies at least twice, then I always buy the
     videos.”
    Smiling apologetically at Dana, Philippa reached for Jimmy’s pen. “Which is your favorite?”
    ”Rough Sands
, definitely. That incest scene at the luau is just sublime. I broke my Replay button on it.”
    Philippa signed Jimmy’s menu. “That’s very kind.”
    Lola arrived bearing a bottle of chianti, compliments of a fan. Dana waited a moment, then asked, “You had an incest scene?”
    “It was with a sister.” Philippa toyed with a roll, thinking about the man who had recently called her Plum. His blue eyes
     haunted her. She glanced toward the kitchen. “I wonder if Emily’s having fun back there.”
    “Are you kidding? This place is out of control tonight.” Yet again, Dana glanced at the front door. The crowd, the noise,
     were beginning to make him nervous: too many witnesses. “I think we may have been better off staying on my boat. Quiet. Private.”
     His medicine chest was there as well. He could take something for his writhing stomach. Meanwhile, maybe some wine would help.
     “Must we really stay?” Philippa didn’t respond so he added, “On our last night together?”
    Was he hallucinating, or did she seem to brighten as he said that? After all he had risked by appearing in public with her?
     After all those afternoon appointments he had canceled? Dana cringed, wondering how he was going to explain all of this to
     Ross tomorrow. And Marjorie! A fortune in roses would barely mollify her. Once again, he glanced apprehensively over the dining
     room. Bad vibrations here. Very bad. He wanted to escape to his ship and peel that dress off Philippa. Tie her down in the
     life boat, savage her a little. “I have an idea,” he began.
    Their waiter reappeared. “Filets mignons with horseradish sauce,” Eddy announced, placing the dishes in front of them. “Compliments
     of the chef,” he added for the fifth time.
    Across the dining room, a wine bucket crashed to the floor. Conversations again paused, resuming on a buzzier note as waiters
     rushed to mop up the mess. “I wonder if it’s like this every night,” Philippa said, taking her steak knife.
    Lola appeared again. “Pepper, anyone?”
    “Just a touch,” Philippa said irritably, anxious to rid the vicinity of a dazzling woman twenty years her junior. “Whoa! Enough!
     Fine!”
    Lola made a brief pass over Dana’s steak before pulling a felt-tip pen from her apron. “Would you mind autographing the pepper
     mill, Miss Banks? It would mean so much to me.”
    Philippa hastily scribbled on the pepper mill. “That should do. Run along now.”
    “Thank you so much!” Lola bowed and left.
    Philippa took a bite of her steak. “Oh dear.”
    “What’ s the matter?” Dana asked.
    “I might have to send this back. It’s almost raw.” Hell on her hemorrhoids.
    “Take mine. It’s medium.” They changed plates. Dana poured more wine. He was beginning to feel melancholy. “Must you really
     catch that plane?”
    “I’ve got to be in New York at ten tomorrow morning. Why don’t you come with me? I don’t want to go to the opening of
Choke Hold
with my agent. He smells like a moldy orange.”
    “You know I can’t get away, Philippa.” The mere thought of returning to his office gave Dana a spasm of indigestion. “Let’s
     get out of here. We could spend one last hour on the boat.”
    To his chagrin, she didn’t even hesitate. “No way. I still haven’t seen Emily. How’s your steak?”
    Dana gamely shoved another slab into his mouth. Too much damn pepper. Burned his insides. The chianti ate into his esophagus
     like Drano. He now realized that somewhere between the champagne and the filet mignon, he had