secret meeting place...
Her face became scarlet at the erotic fantasies filling her mind. Why had Kirk taken over her dreams? She felt a stab of guilt that she had been unfaithful to Jimmy even in her fantasy. But Kirk had such an overpowering personality that he could not easily be dismissed.
She was taken from her reverie by a knock at her door. She stood there a moment longer, reluctant to release the dream. She withdrew from it slowly, then turned with a sigh back to the world of reality, a reality dominated tonight by Kirk Remington.
She closed and locked the balcony door. “Just a minute,” she called. She gave her makeup a quick inspection, removing traces of her tears. Then she unlocked the hotel door.
Kirk Remington stood in the hallway, tall, broad-shouldered, looking elegant in a dark overcoat and white scarf. She felt the impact of his presence with the force of an electric jolt. The man was a walking charge of magnetism. His dark eyes raked over her with a force that electrified the air. His gaze blinded and disconcerted her.
“I’ve made dinner reservations,” he murmured. He named one of the famous and most expensive Vieux Carré restaurants. “Will that be all right?”
“Of course,” she murmured, feeling a flicker of amusement. Surely she wouldn’t object to being taken to a place where a meal would cost as much as her father used to earn in a month’s salary!
The feeling of unreality came over her again. It was as if she were standing aside, a slightly amused spectator, watching Lilly Parker being escorted from the building by the oil and shipping tycoon. The situation was too incongruous to be real. The Lilly Parkers of this world did not go out on dinner dates to famous restaurants with men like Kirk Remington. The Lilly Parkers ate in fast-food joints with guys who drove old Chevrolets.
Kirk had little to say to her on the way to the restaurant, which added to the strained feeling between them. He asked if she minded walking since the restaurant was but a few short blocks from her hotel. She said she didn’t mind at all, and that ended any exchange between them until they entered the restaurant.
The maître d’ instantly recognized Kirk Remington and they were seated with a flourish, at a choice table.
As was the case with many of the famous, old restaurants in New Orleans’ French Quarter, this room was right out of the nineteenth century. The paneled walls were mellowed with age. The gas lights had been replaced by chandeliers with electric bulbs, but otherwise nothing had changed in a hundred years. There were indentations in the tile floor worn by the shoes of several generations of waiters bearing trays of exquisitely prepared food from the kitchen.
Kirk ordered cocktails for them, then conferred with the waiter in French over the menu.
Lilly thought it was a shame that such sumptuous food would be wasted on her tonight. She was too nervous to do much more than pick at her meal. Questions were racing through her mind, turning her stomach into knots. Why had Kirk chosen such an elaborate way to discuss her future with Jimmy’s band? Did he think firing her would be made easy by treating her to an expensive meal? Perhaps it was his way of soothing his conscience.
He broke the awkward silence at last, talking about his interest in music, the research he had done into the history of American jazz, discussing books he had on the subject, famous musicians he had known personally here and abroad, his record library. Despite her feeling of resentment toward the man, Lilly was impressed by his extensive knowledge of jazz and of music in general. Granted, he might be a dilettante, but at least he had a genuine sensitivity and appreciation for music. Her judgment of him softened slightly.
He talked about his plans and ambitions for Jimmy’s band, and that further melted her chilled response to him. Then he abruptly switched the conversation to her. By then they had finished the
Her face became scarlet at the erotic fantasies filling her mind. Why had Kirk taken over her dreams? She felt a stab of guilt that she had been unfaithful to Jimmy even in her fantasy. But Kirk had such an overpowering personality that he could not easily be dismissed.
She was taken from her reverie by a knock at her door. She stood there a moment longer, reluctant to release the dream. She withdrew from it slowly, then turned with a sigh back to the world of reality, a reality dominated tonight by Kirk Remington.
She closed and locked the balcony door. “Just a minute,” she called. She gave her makeup a quick inspection, removing traces of her tears. Then she unlocked the hotel door.
Kirk Remington stood in the hallway, tall, broad-shouldered, looking elegant in a dark overcoat and white scarf. She felt the impact of his presence with the force of an electric jolt. The man was a walking charge of magnetism. His dark eyes raked over her with a force that electrified the air. His gaze blinded and disconcerted her.
“I’ve made dinner reservations,” he murmured. He named one of the famous and most expensive Vieux Carré restaurants. “Will that be all right?”
“Of course,” she murmured, feeling a flicker of amusement. Surely she wouldn’t object to being taken to a place where a meal would cost as much as her father used to earn in a month’s salary!
The feeling of unreality came over her again. It was as if she were standing aside, a slightly amused spectator, watching Lilly Parker being escorted from the building by the oil and shipping tycoon. The situation was too incongruous to be real. The Lilly Parkers of this world did not go out on dinner dates to famous restaurants with men like Kirk Remington. The Lilly Parkers ate in fast-food joints with guys who drove old Chevrolets.
Kirk had little to say to her on the way to the restaurant, which added to the strained feeling between them. He asked if she minded walking since the restaurant was but a few short blocks from her hotel. She said she didn’t mind at all, and that ended any exchange between them until they entered the restaurant.
The maître d’ instantly recognized Kirk Remington and they were seated with a flourish, at a choice table.
As was the case with many of the famous, old restaurants in New Orleans’ French Quarter, this room was right out of the nineteenth century. The paneled walls were mellowed with age. The gas lights had been replaced by chandeliers with electric bulbs, but otherwise nothing had changed in a hundred years. There were indentations in the tile floor worn by the shoes of several generations of waiters bearing trays of exquisitely prepared food from the kitchen.
Kirk ordered cocktails for them, then conferred with the waiter in French over the menu.
Lilly thought it was a shame that such sumptuous food would be wasted on her tonight. She was too nervous to do much more than pick at her meal. Questions were racing through her mind, turning her stomach into knots. Why had Kirk chosen such an elaborate way to discuss her future with Jimmy’s band? Did he think firing her would be made easy by treating her to an expensive meal? Perhaps it was his way of soothing his conscience.
He broke the awkward silence at last, talking about his interest in music, the research he had done into the history of American jazz, discussing books he had on the subject, famous musicians he had known personally here and abroad, his record library. Despite her feeling of resentment toward the man, Lilly was impressed by his extensive knowledge of jazz and of music in general. Granted, he might be a dilettante, but at least he had a genuine sensitivity and appreciation for music. Her judgment of him softened slightly.
He talked about his plans and ambitions for Jimmy’s band, and that further melted her chilled response to him. Then he abruptly switched the conversation to her. By then they had finished the
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